Heading down the steps to the basement, I gathered the empty cardboard boxes I’d amassed all month, hauled them upstairs, and stacked them outside Rob’s room. In his usual “Not now, I’m busy” fashion, he’d done nothing to prepare for his departure. The night before, I’d finally cornered him in the kitchen, not letting him escape for his date with Andrea Walker until he agreed to spend the morning packing.
An hour later, Rob rattled open his door and clumped into the bathroom.
“Good morning,” I called, hurrying to the bottom of the stairs to ask him what he wanted for breakfast. But before I could open my mouth again, the doorbell jingled.
Charlie scrambled out of his basket; his nails clicked across the kitchen floor. Standing sentry in the front hall, he yapped, his stubby tail wagging frantically. I opened the door to find Rob’s girlfriend, Andrea, holding a McDonald’s bag.
“Hello.” I tried not to stare at the swatch of bare skin peeking out between her hip-hugging jeans and her clingy knit top.
“Hi.” She rarely said more than two words to me and, to be honest, she wasn’t my favorite of the girls Rob had dated.
I noticed purplish circles rimming the girl’s eyes, and her normally squared shoulders were stooped. “Are you okay?” I asked, wondering whether she was coming down with something or if she’d been crying.
“I didn’t sleep very well,” she said.
“That’s too bad.” I remembered hearing Rob come in late the previous evening. He and Andrea were probably lamenting their impending separation. I gave her arm a gentle rub as she entered. I did feel sorry for the girl, but it was for the best. In my opinion she and Rob were too young to be this serious.
Rob appeared at the top of the stairs. With his wavy hair mussed and unshaven whiskers darkening his chin, he looked like a college-aged Phil, only taller.
“Come on up,” he said in a manly voice that still surprised me. “Hey, McDonald’s. All right!”
I watched Andrea’s beige ponytail sway as she jogged up the stairs. Trying to ignore a twinge of jealousy, I followed in her wake.
Rob’s room looked as though a troop of monkeys had cavorted through it—sheets and bedcovers hanging halfway onto the floor and clothing flung everywhere. I stood in the doorway with my arms folded across my chest. It required a good dose of self-control not to start straightening as I watched Rob jam his CD collection into a box that threatened to explode under the pressure, then stuff a tangle of stereo wires into a plastic bag.
Andrea, her hands capping her knees, perched on the edge of his bed.
Rob glanced up at her and said, “We’ll be fine.”
Her lower lip quivered as she blinked back a tear.
“I’ll e-mail you every day.” He stood, gathered an armload of clothes, and shoved them into a duffel bag.
“Oh, honey, you’re not going to throw your dirty laundry in with your clean, are you?” I asked, imagining the locker room smell that would erupt from his bag when he opened it. “I’ll run down and do a load.” I grabbed several T-shirts, a pile of questionable underwear, and a pair of jeans with a grease spot on the knee.
By the time I returned to his room, it had lost its personality. His prized posters, which used to spring to life under a black light, lay rolled and secured with rubber bands. Most of his belongings were boxed, the tops folded down. The room resembled a tenement with patches of missing paint on the faded walls and a stain on the carpet that I never could get out. Only his bed, its covers yanked up halfheartedly, his desk and chair, and his bureau, supporting his collection of dragon figurines and lacrosse trophies, still remained. It was eerie how quickly he’d taken away so much of himself.
During the next few hours, I wandered by Rob’s open doorway several times to see him and Andrea sitting on the floor, leaning against the bed, and locked in conversation.
I finally planted myself at the kitchen table. I pushed aside the piles of work-related papers, to-do lists, and coupons that littered the table’s oval surface, and kept busy sorting through a stack of bills. Hadn’t I just paid my electricity, gas, and water bills? I wondered. It seemed the moment I sent them off, another round appeared.
As I ripped open my mortgage statement, I heard footsteps on the stairs. A moment later Rob and Andrea walked into the kitchen.
“We’re going,” Rob announced.
“Wait a minute.” I jumped to my feet, barring their exit. “How about having dinner together?” I asked. “We could go out somewhere nice.”
“Sorry, Mom.” Rob stared at a speck on the floor. “We already have plans. Dad’s new opening is tonight. He wants me to be there.” His gaze rose to meet mine, and he flashed me a crooked smile. “You could come with us.”
I couldn’t contain a scowl. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Come on, why not? Aren’t you curious about what Dad’s up to?” He swayed back and forth as he spoke. “I know you think his paintings are bad news, but he told me he’s doing something different.”
Like the sand candles at the University District Street Fair every year, Phil’s paintings had yet to evolve out of the psychedelic sixties. Different probably meant he was remembering to sign them.
“I said they weren’t my style, that’s all.” I was satisfied with my tactful reply. “I wanted to take you out somewhere special tonight.” I decided not to add, “just the two of us,” knowing it would be futile to try to shake Andrea. “Tell you what, I’ll go with you if you’ll come out to dinner with me first.”
That evening, the kids decided on Italian food. I took them to the newly opened restaurant Il Gattopardo with its checkered
