first.
Touch Base
I WAS sitting on the couch by myself, hoping I might magically think of a perfect article to write for the newspaperâsomething so good they couldnât turn it down. I looked through my most recent baseball-games notebook, but nothing triggered a great idea.
Dad and Pop banged in through the back door. I heard Pop go straight upstairs. Dad came in the living room and sat right next to me.
He looked at me and said, âCasey, youâve got to call your mom. Itâs not right. Sheâs your mother.â
I started to stand up, but he said, âStop. Now. This is a conversation we need to have.â
I wanted to leave. I wanted to be left alone to think of what I was going to write my article about. I wanted to never have this conversation. âWhat difference does it make to her if she talks to me or not?â
âA big difference.â
I blew out some air, a nonverbal way of saying,
Yeah, right
.
âYouâve broken her heart. She misses you. She wants to talk to you.â
If you thought about that, about who broke whose heart, youâd have to say heâd gotten it all wrong.
âCasey, this is hard. I have issues with your mother too, believe me. But youâve been acting like she committed a crime. She didnât. This happens to families all the time, doesnât it? Some marriages donât last. But you still have to do whatâs right. Iâm dialing the phone now. And youâre staying here. And youâre talking to her.â
There were times when you could no longer run. Dad dialed and then handed me the phone. Mrs. Bob the Baker answered right away, like she was sitting next to the phone, waiting for it to ring.
âHello?â
âItâs Casey,â I said.
She was quiet for a second longer than the normal amount of time and then said, âIâm glad you called.â
Dad was still right next to me. I said, âIâve been busy.â
âWell, itâs nice to hear your voice,â she said. âIâve really missed you.â
Sorry. I had no response to that.
âIâd like us to get back into some kind of routine where you come and stay with me.â
Oh, no, she did not. She did not just say that.
âI know we never got into a routine at first when I was traveling, and then we werenât that good at making it happen the way it was supposed to once I got back. I didnât want to push. But itâs gone on too long like this, Casey, and I want us to spend time together.â
âIâve been really busy,â I said again.
âIâm sure,â she said. âMiddle school must be a big change for you.â
âI guess,â I said.
âWell, Iâm looking forward to talking with you in person. Iâll work it out with your father. Do you want to put him on now?â
No. I did not. So instead of giving her what she was asking for, I gave her something else I knew she wanted: information. âSo middle schoolâs kind of different, you know,â I said.
âI do! I know! I want to hear all about it. Why donât you plan to come overââ
âI can tell you about it now,â I said. My father smiled at me and walked away. I rambled about my classes, and when we were done and she asked me to figure out with Dad what days each week would be good for me to stay with her, I said I would, but I knew I wouldnât.
When we hung up, I was surprised that I felt more relieved than mad. I wasnât dumb enough to believe sheâd stop calling. But I had a feeling Iâd be free for at least the next weekâno screening calls, no threatened visits. I had paid my duesâIâd talked to her.
Iâd earned my freedom.
Out of Left Field
O N Sunday morning, the one day I got to sleep late, Zeke didnât start with
hello
or
whazzup;
he just burst into my room with, âSo did you ask your dad yet?â
I was sleeping!
Alexandra Amor
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Unknown