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“It’s for a friend,” I blurt. Then wince, because it’s an unnecessary explanation. An answer to a question she didn’t ask.
I don’t owe her anything.
It sounds like a lie. Like an excuse.
And also…a betrayal of Sydney and the assurances I told her earlier.
I’m not perfect. I know I’m not. But I’ve never been able to shake the urge to strive for it. To be responsible and successful and reliable.
“None of my business.” Mrs. Golden grabs an orange bottle of laundry detergent and adds it to her cart. “But if you ever need anything, please reach out. Okay? I know it’s hard to believe, but I was your age once.”
“Thanks, Mrs. Golden.”
She smiles, and I can’t tell if she believes me or not. “Nice to see you, Cassia.”
“You too,” I say as she continues walking.
Then I rush toward the front of the store, relieved to find the self-checkout is open. I quickly pay for the test and then shove it into my bag before leaving.
I was planning to pick up a few toiletries for school while I was here, but my mind is a muddled mess right now. The list of items I thought of earlier seem irrelevant. I haven’t fully recovered from the shock of Sydney’s revelations earlier.
When I get home, my dad’s car is still missing from the driveway. No one is downstairs, so I head up to my room.
My mom’s crouching down in the hallway, cleaning up the Lego mess. “Did you have fun with Sydney?” she asks, glancing up.
I nod. “Where is everyone?”
She rocks back on her heels. “Maggie is out with friends. Regan is at a sleepover. Charlie and Chris are at soccer practice. Sally is showering and then we’re going to watch a princess movie before I have to pick the twins up. You’re welcome to watch with us.”
“Dad isn’t home?”
“No.”
“Is…everything okay?”
My mom exhales, then stands. She glances down the hall at the closed bathroom door. If I strain to hear, I can catch the rush of running water.
“I wanted to tell you this a while ago, Cassia. And…I alsoneverwanted to tell you this.”
Panic expands in my chest, heavy and suffocating as I stare at her. “What?”
“Honey, your dad and I are getting a divorce.”
I stare at her, uncomprehending.
“What?” I repeat.
“It’s just…not working any longer. Sometimes couples grow apart and there’s no solution.”
It sounds like a prepared line, and I realize that’s exactly what it is.
She’s beenpreparingfor this. Planning. Deciding.
And I’ve been living at home all summer with no clue that it was coming. Oblivious and not looking past the busyness to realize what was crumbling. What my mom just described is a typical schedule for my siblings.
Chaos can mask misery, I guess. It worked to hide my own heartbreak.
I’m listening as she continues talking in a quiet tone so Sally doesn’t overhear, tossing out phrases likedifficult decisionandwe both love you kids so much.
