“Think less?”
“Big decision. Powerful pull that he’s struggling with,” Cricket says. “Come to think of it, maybe you make him think more. We’ll see.”
I don’t know what that means, but it makes me think too much too. I lean over and kiss Cricket’s cheek.
“Don’t make the boy jealous now,” he says. “Come back around. Seeing you is like having Nate back. This new guy is ok, but he snores.”
13
When I get home , I find Cassie packing her suitcase. I notice that she’s still using the purple-and-daisy-patterned one she got when we went to Grand Canyon years ago. She was nine.
“What are you doing?” I ask, as if I don’t know the terrifying answer already. “I thought you were at Mom’s.”
“I’m moving in with Dad,” she says, not looking up at me. “Uncle Ray drove me here.”
“I don’t think so.” I say it like I’m about to ground her for something. “I don’t remember giving you permission to come and go as you please.”
I had to work really hard not to finish that sentence with “young lady.”
“Well, it’s not up to you, now is it?” she says, tossing my own frequent jab back at me.
I don’t mean to turn into Monster Mom, but she’s brought out by fear and I’m getting really scared.
“It most certainly is,” I say, feeling Monster Mom’s skin turning green, sensing her getting too big for her britches. “You don’t get to just move out.”
Cassie tosses a pair of jeans into the case and looks up at me sharply. “Why not? Dad got sick of it here and moved out.”
She gestures around her room to indicate “here.” I notice new posters on the walls and a picture of the boy from the pool on her mirror. I see that she has turned her bed comforter over so that the blank blue side faces up instead of the hearts and smiley faces that I know are on the other side.
“That’s not what happened,” I say.
“Isn’t it?” she asks, obligatory hand on her hip.
I begin to wonder.
“Don’t you need to ask Dad about this first?” I ask, changing the subject.
“I already did,” she huffs at me. She rolls her eyes and grabs another pair of jeans from the now half-empty closet.
“Dad said yes?” I ask, hoping for a loophole.
“Of course he did,” Cassie says. “Call him if you want to. You know you do.”
Now I’m torn between doing the predictable and garnering another eye roll and doing what needs to be done—which unfortunately are the same thing.
“I am going to call your father,” I say, seeing Cassie’s eyes already starting their circular trip around their sockets. “But not because you baited me to, young lady.”
Crap.
“Whatever,” she says and folds a shirt into her quickly filling suitcase.
Monster Mom clenches her oversized green fists and stomps out of the room. I call Jack’s cell, and he answers already talking.
“Nina,” he says. “Just let it happen. She’s got a dog in this fight too, you know.”
“What fight?” I ask, furious. “I’m not fighting.”
“Maybe that’s the problem,” Jack says. “Look. I tried to get her to stay with you. I’m not the bad guy here. But she needs to throw a couple of punches, and I understand that.”
“At me? I’m not the bad guy here either.”
“At the world,” Jack says, his voice aggravatingly calm. “You’re her world. Sorry, but you’re going be the one that gets clocked in the face.”
“How long?” I ask, stepping out onto the balcony for some air.
“I haven’t gotten that far with her,” Jack says. “Let her come with me and we’ll work this out.”
“You want her,” I say, trying to breathe, but hyperventilating instead. “Why would I think you’re going to work it out for me?”
“Yeah, I do want her,” Jack says, his voice getting pointy and jagged. “She’s my daughter, and she can stay with me as long as she likes. I’m trying to be accommodating here. I don’t know what else to say.”
We haven’t talked about the details of the divorce much, but we have agreed on joint custody, fifty-fifty, it’s up to us how to work it out. That was never a point of contention. It’s not about who’s getting more time. It’s about Cassie not being five years old and us respecting that she has a voice. A voice I’m reluctantly trying to respect at the moment.
“Where are you now?” I look down onto the street as if he might be there.
“Circling town. She’s going to text me when she’s ready.”
Monster Mom’s forehead vein is about to pop. I go back inside. “Is this some sort of covert mission that I interrupted? Was I supposed to come home and just find her gone?”
“Of course not,” he says. “I told her she had to talk to you, but that I would be available when she was ready. I’m not trying to pull a fast one, Nina.”
If you say my name one more time, I’m going to strangle you.
“Fine, Jack,” I say and end the call, wishing for old times and a phone receiver to slam into its base.
I pace around the living room, trying, but mostly failing, to get my wits about me. I don’t want to make this any worse. I go back into Cassie’s room and pretend that I wasn’t just acting like a spoiled brat.
“You think I’m just being a petulant teenager, don’t you?” she asks, using her annoyingly good vocabulary for a fifteen-year-old. “Do you want to know why I’m really leaving?”
No.
“Yes,” I say.
“I’m leaving because you won’t know the difference,” she says, looking me straight in the eyes.
“What you do mean I won’t know the difference?”
“You don’t even see me. I’m right here in front of you, and all you can see is the baby you didn’t have or the one you still want.”
“That’s not true. I see you.”
“No, you don’t,”
