Chapters (68)
- Dedication
- Title Page
- Contents
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Forty-Three
- Forty-Four
- Forty-Five
- Forty-Six
- Forty-Seven
- Forty-Eight
- Forty-Nine
- Fifty
- Fifty-One
- Fifty-Two
- Fifty-Three
- Fifty-Four
- Fifty-Five
- Fifty-Six
- Fifty-Seven
- Fifty-Eight
- Fifty-Nine
- Sixty
- Sixty-One
- Sixty-Two
- Sixty-Three
- Sixty-Four
- Sixty-Five
- Copyright
“No.”
“You think it’s weird that my dad’s gay?”
“No.”
“That he’s living with Malcolm?”
“No.”
“I’ve never liked him.”
“Malcolm?” I said.
“Yeah. Not because he’s gay. Well, sort of. Because my dad fell in love with him, because they’re both gay, so that meant my mom and dad split up. But mostly I don’t like him because he’s a dick.”
“Okay,” I said.
“I mean, if your dad’s gonna leave, you’d like to think he had a really good reason, right? That the person he was leaving you for was going to make his life better.”
“You don’t think he and Malcolm are happy?’
Jeremy shrugged. “I don’t even care.” He propped up some pillows at his back so he could sit up on the bed. “What are we going to do?”
“Did you bring a book to read or anything?”
He shook his head.
“I brought three,” I told him. I unzipped my bag, intending to toss them out for his perusal, when my cell phone rang.
“Hello?”
“Mr. Weaver?”
“Hello, Gloria.”
“Is Jeremy there?”
“Of course.” I looked at him and mouthed, “It’s your mom.”
His head went down like a bag of sand. Blindly, he held out his hand and let me drop the phone into it.
“Hi, Mom . . . Yeah, we had some sandwiches . . . I don’t know.” He looked at me. “Are you going to get me a hot meal?”
“That’ll be breakfast,” I said.
“He says I’ll get a hot meal at breakfast.” He gave me a look that suggested his mother did not think that was a good enough answer. “It’s okay, I’m fine. No, we drove straight here. No stops along the way. We’re in Kingston now. I think we’re going to New York City.”
I shook my head.
“I guess I wasn’t supposed to tell you that . . . Yes, I know you’re my mom and you deserve to know where I am . . . Are you going to call Ms. Harding in the morning and tell her what’s going on?”
I gave him a puzzled look. He whispered to me, “My probation officer.”
Then, back to his mother, “Okay . . . Yes, I’ll check in. Okay . . . Yes, I love you too. Goodbye.”
He handed back the phone. I put it to my ear, wondering if Gloria was still on there, wanting to give me a piece of her mind, but she’d hung up.
“She really does treat me like I’m five sometimes,” he said.
“And she probably always will. Kids are kids to their parents no matter how old they are.”
“She had kind of a rough time when she was little,” he said.
I nodded. “I read about that.”