“When you learn to act like a grown-up, you can come back.”

If only he had made her breakfast instead. She would have forgiven the big screen Dad gave her for their anniversary earlier that morning — heck, she loves watching movies. We would still be together. Even Diesel, ’cause I wouldn’t have had to babysit Luanne. Mom wouldn’t have found that job at Donut Time, and she’d have been minding Luanne instead of me.

That’s me imagining everything that month going a different way. I regret it all.

• • •

Today the sky looks as if one of those egg yolks is poaching right behind the cast-iron clouds. You can see the yellow through the cracks. Feels like a thunderstorm is coming, same as yesterday and the day before. The clouds grumble but they don’t cry.

And I sure want to keep Luanne from crying, too.

“Shh, shh, Mommy’s on her way.” I stroke her damp forehead. Mostly she’s a happy toddler, cooing and laughing, but with the heat she hasn’t been able to nap all day. She’s growing crabbier by the minute. Her skin feels feverish to the touch. The bottle’s my last resort. She should be drinking from a sippy cup, but because she was born with a hole in her heart, we baby her a lot to keep her from getting too excited. Her mom’s shift ended at two, and the watch Dad bought me now shows THU July 01 3:30.

“Everyone else uses a cellphone to tell time,” I complained when Dad gave it to me on my last birthday. A red digital antique.

“This watch is water-resistant to two hundred metres,” he answered. “You show me a phone like that.”

“Yeah, well, you show me a watch I can use to text a friend. Besides, I’m not ever gonna go diving. I can’t even swim.” I acted as crabby as Mom. I regret that, too.

Today I smile at the watch. It makes me feel like a piece of Dad’s dorkiness comes with me everywhere. I sure miss him living with us. Things are way too grown-up without him. The seconds spin by: 51, 52, 53 … Aunt Cathie should have been here half an hour ago.

Luanne’s thick black hair lies flat and wet across her forehead. Her skin clams against my arms as her lips pucker out and in with a loud pft, pft sound. The milk is going down fast, and when it disappears, I’ll be in for it. C’mon, Aunt Cathie. Where are you?

The road in front of Aunt Cathie’s house steams. Maybe we can’t fry eggs on the sidewalk like Dad says, but we can cook wieners on the street. Dog days of summer, Dad calls them. That’s when Sirius, the Dog Star, rises in the sky with the sun. Can’t see the star, just like I can’t see my dog anymore.

Diesel was another birthday present from Dad. A surprise present for my tenth. Another thing that hadn’t impressed Mom. “One more thing to look after,” she complained. But who could resist a big-eyed, wobbly-pawed puppy? Not even Mom. Until he chewed socks, underwear, shoes, and even the door of the kitchen cupboard where we kept his treats. He upchucked on the couch and dug up the yard. Diesel grew big and strong and never stopped jumping on people. Mom blamed all that on Dad.