Shocking Pink

Andie stared at her parents. This couldn’t be happening. Not to her happy family.

“No,” she said, hearing her own panic. “No, it isn’t true.”

“Honey—” Her dad stood and held out a hand to her. “This happens sometimes. Adults fall out of love with each other. This has nothing to do with you or your brothers.”

She heard his words, but hollowly, as if they had come from a great distance. They echoed in her head, mingling with the thunder of her own heart.

Fall out of love? Nothing to do with her?

He was leaving them. Leaving her.

She sucked in a quick, shallow breath, pain a living thing inside her. How could he say that? How could it have nothing to do with her if she felt like she was dying inside?

“This has nothing to do with any of you kids,” he continued. “I love you all as much as I always have.”

Andie darted a glance at her brothers. They were huddled together, clinging to one another. Pete was crying quietly; Daniel was not. Daniel stared stonily at their father, eyes bright with fury. With her brothers, the lines had already been drawn.

How typical of them, she thought. Though twins, they were as different as night and day. Pete was sensitive, emotional, exuberant; everybody’s favorite. Daniel on the other hand, was intense, serious, introverted. Unlike Pete, Daniel would hold his anger in—for days, weeks, months—seething. Daniel was not going to forgive their father easily; Pete already had.

What about her? What was she going to do?

“I’m not moving far away,” her father was saying. “I’ll be right here in Thistledown. We’ll see each other all the time. I’ve already discussed visitation with my attorn—”

“Your attorney?” her mother cut in, her expression stunned. “You’ve already seen an attorney?”

“Yes, Marge,” he said, swinging his gaze to his wife, “I have.”

Andie took another step backward. What had happened? she wondered. How could he look at her mother so coldly? Just this morning they had kissed, they had laughed together.

“I thought it would be best,” he continued, “to discuss my rights before I—”

“Best? Rights?” Her mother’s voice rose. “Your right to see your children only on weekends and half the holidays? You thought that would be best? Better than coming home to them every night?”

“That’s enough, Marge! I don’t think it’s appropriate to be having this conversation in front of the children.”

“Don’t you talk to me about appropriate behavior! Don’t you dare!” Her mother jumped to her feet. “We’re supposed to be a family.”

“The marriage just isn’t working for me.” He made a sound of frustration. “I’m not happy. I haven’t been in a long time. Surely you knew.”

Andie wrapped her arms around her middle, apple still clutched in one hand. Not happy? Her mom and dad almost never fought, had almost never disagreed. He’d kissed her mother when he left for work this morning. He did every morning. And every morning her mom kissed him back, then smiled.

A squeak of pain slipped past her lips. Now he wasn’t happy. Now he wanted to leave them.

Why? Had she done something to cause this? Had her brothers?

Tears choked her. She didn’t want her family to break up. She didn’t want her daddy to leave. She loved him more than anything.

“Don’t go, Dad,” Andie begged. “I want us to stay a family.”

He looked at Andie, then the twins. “We’ll still be a family, kids. We’ll always be a family. Where I live won’t change that.”

But it would. It would change everything. “I’ll help out more,” she said quickly, scrambling for a way to make everything all right. “I promise. Us kids, we won’t fight.” She looked pleadingly at her brothers. “Will we?”

“We won’t,” they said in unison, shaking their heads. “We promise to be good.”

“Honey, it’s not—”

“And I’ll baby-sit,” she went on, not wanting to give him the opportunity to speak, afraid of what he might say. “Whenever you ask, so you guys can go out. And I won’t complain about it, I promise. Just give me another chance. I’ll show you how good I can be.”

“You see, Dan?” her mother whispered, sinking back to the chair, the fight seeming to go out of her. “You see what you’re doing to your children?”

He ignored her and crossed to Andie. “Oh, pumpkin.” He wrapped his arms around her, bringing her to his chest. “It’s not you. It’s not your brothers. You guys are perfect.”

He drew back and looked into her eyes. “It’s me and your mom.”

Andie fought tears. She glanced at her brothers again, at the way they huddled together. They always did that, they had each other, they were a team. She had Raven and Julie. She shifted her gaze to her mother, sitting alone, her expression devastated. Her parents used to be a team. They used to have each other.

How could her daddy do this? How could he leave them this way? He was supposed to love them, no matter what.

Andie struggled free of her father’s arms and went to her mother. She knelt by the chair and wrapped her arms around her. For a moment her mother held herself stiffly, then she sagged against Andie, clinging to her.

“Andie, honey,” her father said softly, patiently, “I know you’re upset, but in time you’ll understand.”

“No, I won’t.” She shook her head, her tears spilling over. “You said family was everything. The most important thing. You lied.”

“I didn’t lie. I didn’t know. Things happen. They—” He looked at his wife. “Marge, help me out here.”

She stiffened. “You did this, Dan. You. Don’t ask me to help you make it better now.”

“Fine.” He moved his gaze from Andie to her brothers, then back. “This is the way it’s going to be. I’m sorry, kids, but it just … is. When you’re older, you’ll—”

“Understand?” Andie lifted her gaze to his, heart breaking. She shook her head. “I won’t understand, Dad. And I won’t forgive you. Not ever.”

For a long moment he simply stared at her, then without another word, he turned and walked away.

3

Andie lay on her bed, dry-eyed, completely spent. Moments after her father left, she’d heard his car and had run to the window and watched him go, watching until long after his taillights had been swallowed by the night.

Gone. Just like that.

She rolled onto her side. The house was unnaturally quiet. Still. Her brothers had gone to bed some time ago; her mother was now locked in her bedroom. Usually at this time of night, Andie could hear the muted sound of a late-night talk show coming from the TV in her parents’ room or her mom and dad’s hushed conversation. Once in a while the phone would ring, or the cat would meow outside her bedroom window.

Not tonight. Tonight it was as if the world had come to an end. Nothing was left for her but her own, agonizing thoughts.

Her dad was leaving them.

He didn’t love them anymore, not enough to stay a family, anyway.