“Thanks,” I said. “Later.”
Yeah, but who knows when, later.
3
After school I brought the boys to the library so I wouldn’t have to deal with them complaining about Mom hiding their video games for a second day in a row. We stayed until the sky turned the color of cement. When we walked into the living room, Mom was going nuts. She was hunting through a bunch of papers and envelopes, looking wildly at each handful, then flinging them to the floor.
“Mom!” I grabbed her by the shoulders, but she pushed me away, so hard that I fell backward onto the couch. What the—
“I can’t take this anymore!” she yelled, and began pacing the living room.
“Mom?” I said hesitantly, not wanting to get her even angrier. “Why don’t you just sit down? Maybe I can help you find—whatever it is?”
Benjamin and Christopher had immediately booked it down the hall and were now poking their heads around the sheet that divided the living room from their bedroom (which was really the dining room).
Mom’s eyes were totally swollen. It looked like she’d been bawling for a month straight. I remembered her crying last night. What was up?
“Mom?”
“I need to find a paper that belongs to your father. A pay stub. It’s important.”
I jumped up. “I can help.” I went to the chair by the door and picked up a pile of mail that I assumed she hadn’t looked through yet.
“Don’t touch anything, Liliana!” She yanked the letters from my hands, and they flew everywhere.
“Mom. Chill.” I squatted to pick it all up.
“What?” She glared at me.
“Calm… down…?”
Why did people hate it when they were told to calm down? Still, I was about to take it back, when Mom said, “You want me to calm— Do you even know how much— Do you think—” She was so uncalm that she couldn’t even finish her sentences.
I reached for the remote control and shut off the television. Then I kind of wanted to turn it right back on. The silence sucked. So did arguing with my mom.
“Look, Mom, it’s been a minute since Dad left, and yeah, he’s unpredictable—he’s done it before. But you’re… you’re kinda scaring me… and the boys. You’re acting… kinda craz—”
Her hand flew up, ready to slap me. And my hand flew protectively to my cheek as if it already stung.
“What the hell—” came out of my mouth before I could stop it. I cringed, waiting for her to slap me. Truth: she’d only ever hit the boys and me on the arms or legs before, and that was only when we did something really bad, like steal money from her purse. I’d never seen her this riled up.
“Malcriada,” she said, raising her arm in the air once more.
“Well,” I said, narrowing my eyes, “you’re the one who raised me, so then that’s on you.”
This time I knew she would actually slap me, so I ducked out of the way, snatched my backpack, and headed out the door.
“Where do you think you’re going?” she bellowed after me.
I was charging down the hall, pushing open the door to the stairs.
“Liliana! Get back here!”
I took the stairs two at a time, holding the rail so I wouldn’t fall on my face. Fury surged through me. Why was she like this? No wonder my father kept taking off!
Outside I glanced up at the apartment, and there she was, head stuck out the window, hair all crazy like a witch’s or something.
“Liliana! Get back in here right now!”
No way. But where to go? Not Jade’s. Mom would just march over and drag me back. The library was closed already. I could go to the corner store. And then it dawned on me. Damn. My phone and wallet were on the counter. It was dark. Suddenly I could barely breathe. I hated this. Being cornered. Out of control. Not knowing what was next. I hadn’t even grabbed my jacket. Stupid! I checked my pockets for money. Nada. I avoided eye contact as I roamed up the street, especially with that sketchy dude with the mustache in front of Lorenzo’s Liquor who always catcalled at me and Jade. I walked around until my skin prickled with cold. September could be like that—unpredictable. Like my life, apparently.
Finally I had no choice. I had to head home, and face… more unpredictability. But when I cracked the door open, Mom was asleep in front of the television. I turned down the volume. Had the boys even had dinner? I peeked behind the curtain. They were sleeping hard, sprawled out like they owned the world. I felt a pang in my chest. They were okay. At least there was that.
I filled a coffee mug with Froot Loops and milk, grabbed a spoon, and tiptoed to my room. Out the window, Jade’s lights were off. The moon was bright. Bright like a diamond. No, that was from a song. Bright like a Home Depot bulb? I thought, I should write that down, but I didn’t feel like writing. Or reading. Or painting my nails. Or working on my cardboard buildings. Ugh. My head began to throb. I wolfed down the cereal and tried to fall asleep.
But I couldn’t.
Because all I really wanted to do was talk to my dad. Look, I wasn’t stupid. I knew Dad wasn’t a saint. Yeah, he had a day job, delivering soda crates, but I knew he had side stuff going on too—gambling, selling car parts, and whatnot. A couple of his friends had even been arrested, mostly for stupid stuff—theft and drugs here and there, but nothing really bad like murder or whatever. Dad was a hustler. A businessman of the streets, I liked to think. And he was smart. Really smart.
And now he’d been gone for twenty-six days. Yep, I’d been counting. I legit counted every time. And when he did come back, he was like recharged or whatever. Last July when he came back from a five-day stint to who knows where, he was in the best mood for, like, the rest of the summer. Every morning he’d bring my brothers and me someplace fun, like swimming at Revere Beach or to get pastries at Au Bon Pain or to some program at the Children’s Museum. Dad had friends who worked everywhere, it seemed—the Prudential mall food court, the big library downtown in Copley Square, the welcome center at one of the Harbor Islands. So we’d visit his friends and get something free, even if it was only a soda from a concession stand. On really hot days he’d take us to the movies and we’d sneak from room to room, show to show, until my skin prickled with goose bumps from the air-conditioning. But this time felt different.… This time I got to thinking, What if he wasn’t just skipping town? What if he was gone for good?
My mind kept racing. Was this insomnia? And now I was crying—I had to get a grip. Sometimes I wished I could just… just… unzip myself from my own life and start over, somewhere where no one knew me, or my shady father, or my depressed mother, or my “best” friend. Escape it all.
It’s a scary thing, though, to get what you ask for. Right?
* * *
The next morning the couch was empty and Mom’s bedroom door was closed. Didn’t even open when Christopher spilled cereal all over the place and Benjamin screamed, “I’m going to tell Dad!” We all froze, stared at the frosted squares on the floor, waiting for Mom to come charging out, but nada. The deep dark state must be near sea bottom. To be honest, after last night, I was glad I didn’t have to see her before I left for school. Gave me the day to think. Then she wasn’t there when we got home. I let the twins play as many video games as they wanted.