alone and unhappy. Just like you.”
Be nice to me, I was tempted to say. I am all you have.
Sure, she had grandparents—my parents—who spoiled her rotten. But they wouldn’t be around forever. And I was an only child, so there were no aunts or uncles. Or cousins.
Maybe I should’ve adopted a child so Coco would have someone to lean on or collapse against when life turned cruel. But I didn’t. So she was stuck with me. Me! Didn’t she get that? I’m all you have. Me and my wonderful friends like Solange. But mostly me. And you treat me like this?
I attempted to remain civil. “What does my being single have to do with anything?”
“It’s all related, Mom,” she said, slamming her fork on the table. “The universe is all one. You know I’m trying to be a Buddhist!”
Oh, God. I finished Coco’s beer in one gulp.
CHAPTER 21
Webb
I could tell Dad was thoroughly fed up with me.
“This is our second day in Madrid,” he said. “And this is the first you’ve been out of the hotel?”
We were at El Corte Inglés, which is Madrid’s equivalent of Macy’s. Dad was watching me dig through a pile of jeans on a table in the men’s department. I was trying to find something that didn’t have decorative stitching on the back pockets. What was with these Spanish guys and their disco jeans?
“Look, Webb,” he said. “Maybe you didn’t want to come on this trip. Maybe you would’ve rather stayed home with your friends. But you’re here now, and I wish you’d make the most of it.”
“Okay,” I said, resigning myself to the fact that I wasn’t going to be able to find a pair of plain Levi’s. Would it be better to meet Coco wearing the same jeans I’d been in since we left St. Louis or these stupid rhinestone cowboy jeans?
“I can’t do the job I was brought here to do and worry about you,” Dad continued. “All I ask for is just a little courtesy.”
“Sorry,” I said.
Maybe I could wash the jeans I was wearing in the hotel sink and dry them with a hair dryer. That’d be better than these blingy jeans. I turned my attention to shirts. At least they were normal. I grabbed two plain blue T-shirts that looked my size.
“If you weren’t going to come to the exhibit space this morning,” Dad was saying, “you could’ve called and let me know.”
“Sorry,” I repeated.
This would be so much easier if I could just tell him the reason I was at the hotel: that I was planning to meet a girl I really liked. But I couldn’t tell him. He’d make way too big a deal of it.
“I know you’re sorry,” Dad said. “But . . .” He was staring at the clothes I held in my hands. “You’re going to need something nicer than that for the opening.”
The museum exhibit opening. Damn. I forgot. How was I going to get out of that?
“Look, Webb,” he continued. “Tomorrow night’s going to be crazy. There are going to be a lot of people at the opening: artists, patrons, museum board members, and so forth. I have to talk to them and be available for questions or problems. I can’t be worrying about where you are and what you’re doing.”
“Right,” I said. Then it occurred to me. “Want me to just text you every couple hours? So you know I’m okay?”
His face looked like a big question mark. “I thought you forgot your cell phone at school.”
“I did. But I can send you an e-mail from anywhere. There are Internet connections all over the place. At the hotel, in cafés, probably even at the exhibit.”
“Of course,” Dad said, smiling for the first time in hours. “It’s a digital show. I’m sure there’ll be places for you to get online. Good thinking, Webb.”
I felt like high-fiving Dad for agreeing to this plan, which completely freed me up to blow off the thing at the museum.
He wandered over to a rack of suits. Minutes later he returned, holding a navy blue Polo blazer in my size.
“Sorry,” I said, shaking my head. “Ain’t gonna happen.”
“Webb, you
Be nice to me, I was tempted to say. I am all you have.
Sure, she had grandparents—my parents—who spoiled her rotten. But they wouldn’t be around forever. And I was an only child, so there were no aunts or uncles. Or cousins.
Maybe I should’ve adopted a child so Coco would have someone to lean on or collapse against when life turned cruel. But I didn’t. So she was stuck with me. Me! Didn’t she get that? I’m all you have. Me and my wonderful friends like Solange. But mostly me. And you treat me like this?
I attempted to remain civil. “What does my being single have to do with anything?”
“It’s all related, Mom,” she said, slamming her fork on the table. “The universe is all one. You know I’m trying to be a Buddhist!”
Oh, God. I finished Coco’s beer in one gulp.
CHAPTER 21
Webb
I could tell Dad was thoroughly fed up with me.
“This is our second day in Madrid,” he said. “And this is the first you’ve been out of the hotel?”
We were at El Corte Inglés, which is Madrid’s equivalent of Macy’s. Dad was watching me dig through a pile of jeans on a table in the men’s department. I was trying to find something that didn’t have decorative stitching on the back pockets. What was with these Spanish guys and their disco jeans?
“Look, Webb,” he said. “Maybe you didn’t want to come on this trip. Maybe you would’ve rather stayed home with your friends. But you’re here now, and I wish you’d make the most of it.”
“Okay,” I said, resigning myself to the fact that I wasn’t going to be able to find a pair of plain Levi’s. Would it be better to meet Coco wearing the same jeans I’d been in since we left St. Louis or these stupid rhinestone cowboy jeans?
“I can’t do the job I was brought here to do and worry about you,” Dad continued. “All I ask for is just a little courtesy.”
“Sorry,” I said.
Maybe I could wash the jeans I was wearing in the hotel sink and dry them with a hair dryer. That’d be better than these blingy jeans. I turned my attention to shirts. At least they were normal. I grabbed two plain blue T-shirts that looked my size.
“If you weren’t going to come to the exhibit space this morning,” Dad was saying, “you could’ve called and let me know.”
“Sorry,” I repeated.
This would be so much easier if I could just tell him the reason I was at the hotel: that I was planning to meet a girl I really liked. But I couldn’t tell him. He’d make way too big a deal of it.
“I know you’re sorry,” Dad said. “But . . .” He was staring at the clothes I held in my hands. “You’re going to need something nicer than that for the opening.”
The museum exhibit opening. Damn. I forgot. How was I going to get out of that?
“Look, Webb,” he continued. “Tomorrow night’s going to be crazy. There are going to be a lot of people at the opening: artists, patrons, museum board members, and so forth. I have to talk to them and be available for questions or problems. I can’t be worrying about where you are and what you’re doing.”
“Right,” I said. Then it occurred to me. “Want me to just text you every couple hours? So you know I’m okay?”
His face looked like a big question mark. “I thought you forgot your cell phone at school.”
“I did. But I can send you an e-mail from anywhere. There are Internet connections all over the place. At the hotel, in cafés, probably even at the exhibit.”
“Of course,” Dad said, smiling for the first time in hours. “It’s a digital show. I’m sure there’ll be places for you to get online. Good thinking, Webb.”
I felt like high-fiving Dad for agreeing to this plan, which completely freed me up to blow off the thing at the museum.
He wandered over to a rack of suits. Minutes later he returned, holding a navy blue Polo blazer in my size.
“Sorry,” I said, shaking my head. “Ain’t gonna happen.”
“Webb, you
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