Guiltily I headed straight for the kitchen and picked up her bowl. The sound of her kibble hitting the bottom of the dish made her happy. She purred and bonked her head against my calves as I set the bowl down for her. All was forgiven. I watched her dig in. She was so happy, and food did the trick—she didn’t have to count Weight Watchers points, or count the days since she last got laid. She didn’t worry about women named Amy in Georgia.

Heading to my bedroom, I dragged the laundry hamper out of the closet and started sorting through my dirty clothes, making neat piles of the whites and the darks. My stuff from the trip was still in my suitcase, so I emptied that too. Working the long hours on the show made me slack off when it came to taking care of my usual stuff.

I was shuffling down the hallway toward the washing machine when the phone rang. I knew it was Dave and I let everything tumble to the floor so I could make a clear shot at grabbing the phone off its base.

“Hi,” I answered breathlessly.

“Dani, is that you? You don’t sound like yourself.”

I could practically hear my heart drop as quick and heavy as a bowling ball on my foot.

“Hi . . . Mom.” Shit, I thought, why didn’t I check the caller ID? My mother’s calls to the office were easy to cut short; I just used the “running late for a meeting” excuse. But Mom calling at home on the weekend was death. “Sorry, Mom, I was running from outside.” Already I was in the hole and apologizing.

“Why would you be running? You hate exercise.”

“It’s a long story,” I replied.

“Well, anyway, I just want you to know that I really loved the show last week.”

“Oh, really?” This was surprising. “Well, thanks so much, I’m glad.”

“Honestly, Dani, I don’t know where you come up with these things. You’ve always had such an imagination.” She always talked about my imagination—it didn’t seem like a compliment. She pressed on. “Joe, who I take computer classes with down at the center, was asking me why you never have your name up there on the screen alone. Why do you always write shows with someone else? Can’t you write a show on your own?”

I closed my eyes and tried to silence my heavy exhale so she wouldn’t hear it through the phone. Patience, I told myself, patience and love. “Mom, there’s a staff of writers. Usually it’s a group effort, and screen credit gets figured out accordingly.”

“When did you have your name on the screen by yourself? I’ve never seen that.”

I had just answered her question; she obviously thought I couldn’t work alone, so it was not as though I would be able to change her mind.