And upon hearing his name, Cheese jumps out of my arms and weaves in and out of Dad’s legs, purring and letting out the occasional meow. Dad squats down to scratch his chin, and Cheese immediately plops down and rolls over, inviting belly rubs.
“Me too,” says Dad. “You don’t want to come hang out for a few nights, buddy? Not a fan of split custody, huh?”
Cheese nips lovingly at Dad’s knuckle.
It’s one small thing, like Kiera said. But I can’t stop it. The tears just flow out of me like someone turned on a faucet.
Dad stands up and rushes over to me. “Oh, Sweet Pea. What is it, baby?” He reaches down and pulls me up off my feet and into a hug. And I don’t even care that he’s still covered in paint from work.
“Nothing,” I tell him, my voice cracking. “Everything. Mom has a boyfriend. Oscar’s mad at me.” And so much more I can’t say.
We stand there for a moment in the house that will always belong to all of us as Cheese settles in on top of our feet and Dad lets me cry every tear in my body.
“Let it all out. This isn’t easy,” Dad says. “This isn’t easy for any of us, but especially you. And I’m so, so sorry for that.”
I nod, taking a step back as I dry my eyes with the sleeve of my shirt. I’m guessing Mom’s boyfriend wasn’t news to him.
“You ready to head over to my place?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh, hey,” says Dad, reaching past me. “My mail! What the heck? How could they send me absolutely nothing and then this?”
He takes the envelope with a redFINAL NOTICEstamp across the front and stuffs it into his pocket. I’m tempted to slap it out of his hand—anything I can do to just make time freeze.
As we walk out the door, Cheese surprises us both by following us out to the sidewalk and to Dad’s house as we walk hand in hand.
Dad laughs. “This cat calls all the shots, doesn’t he?”
Chapter Twenty-Six
My Calling
On Saturday morning, I wake up before Dad and head on over to Miss Flora Mae’s to check the mail for a bundle from Mr. Joe Salazar and to water the plants and play them some Aretha Franklin.
I gasp the moment her voice crackles out of Miss Flora Mae’s speakers. I can’t believe I hadn’t thought of this before! I spent all of last night searching for inspiration for my research project, and the inspiration has been here all along. Aretha Franklin! She is the perfect subject for my research project. Once that decision is squared away, I feel a burden lift from my shoulders, and I’m all ready to skim through the latest stack of letters.
There are all kinds of dilemmas today. There are sibling rivalries, questions about home-brewed cleaning supplies, a woman who’s gay and trying to figure out how best to tell her family, parents having trouble communicating with their kids, a scandal involving a recipe thief at the county fair, someone who borrowed money from a friend and can’t pay it back, and many, many more. But the letter that strikes me most is all about friendship. And I definitely have an answer.
Dear Miss Flora Mae,
Do you ever feel like you can see the end coming? Not the end of the world. I mean, the end of a relationship. I’ve been through a ton with my best friend, but I’ve felt like they were pushing me further and further away. At first, I made excuses for them. I thought maybe they were going through a bad time, but these days I can barely remember why our friendship is worth saving. What do I do? Confront them? Break it off? Let fate decide?
Sincerely,
High & Dry
I take the letter home with me and send the rest off to Miss Flora Mae.
Monday is basically the best Monday to ever Monday, because it’s the last Monday of the school year. No more home-work. And no forced conversation between Kiera and Oscar or awkward stuttering in front of Greg to ruin my day.
When I get home, Mom is rushing around the house and there are hangers everywhere. Not only that, but the ironing board is unfolded in the middle of the kitchen with Cheese sitting on top like we’re his royal subjects and all this chaos is his kingdom. And I didn’t even know we owned an iron!
“Mom?”
“In here!” she shouts back.
I follow her voice to her bedroom, which is only like half a bedroom, really, because she’s left Dad’s side totally untouched. Even in all this mess, none of her wardrobe is crossing the invisible boundary dividing his side of the room from hers.
