Shocking Pink

Her thoughts, the truth of them, cut like a knife. She sat up, hugging her middle. She glanced at her closed door again, thinking of her brothers, picturing their devastated faces. With a sigh, she climbed off her bed and headed out of her room and down the hall to theirs. She opened their door and peeked inside.

“Are you guys okay?”

“Fine,” Daniel answered angrily, glaring at her. “We’re not babies, you know.”

“I know. But, I … I thought you might want to talk.”

“Andie?” Pete rolled onto his side, facing her. “I don’t get it. Mom and Dad, they were always so … I mean, I thought they were …”

His voice trailed off miserably, and Andie’s heart went out to him. “I thought the same thing.” She sighed. “I guess we were wrong.”

His face pinched up with an effort not to cry. “Are we going to see Dad at all anymore?”

“I don’t know.” She looked away, then back. “He said so.”

“But he’s a liar,” Daniel said, sitting up. “He’s a stinkin’ liar. I don’t care if I ever see him again. And neither does Pete.”

But Pete did care, Andie could tell. His eyes filled with tears, and he turned quickly away. She scowled at her other brother. “Shut up, okay. You don’t know everything.”

“I know more than you.”

“You wish. You’re just a kid.”

He jerked up his chin. “Well, I know something about Dad that you don’t. It’s a secret.”

“Sure you do,” she said sarcastically. “And of course it’s a secret. That way you can’t tell me.”

“I’ll tell you. Close the door. I don’t want Mom to hear.”

Andie made a sound of annoyance but did as he asked. That done, she folded her arms across her chest. “Okay, it’s closed. What’s the big secret?”

“Dad’s got a girlfriend.”

For a moment Andie simply stared at her brother, too stunned to speak. Then she curved her hands into fists and took a step farther into the room. “You’re lying. Take it back, Daniel. Take it back now.”

“I heard him talking to her on the phone. Tonight. He told her that … he told her he loved her. Before he hung up.”

“It’s not true.” Andie struggled to breathe past the lump in her throat. “You’re making it up.”

“I heard him, too,” Pete whispered brokenly. “He said … he said that after tonight—”

“They could be together,” Daniel finished, his anger and defiance fading. “He had to take care of us first.”

“No. It’s not true.” Andie backed out of her brothers’ bedroom, shaking her head, refusing to believe them. There was an explanation for what her brothers had overheard. Her dad wouldn’t do that. He wasn’t one of those kind of men.

She snapped their door shut, wishing she had left bad enough alone. Wishing she hadn’t goaded Daniel into telling what he supposedly knew about their father. Her dad wouldn’t do that, she told herself again. He wouldn’t.

As if her thoughts had conjured him, she heard her father’s voice. She swung toward her parents’ closed bedroom door, hope surging through her. He’d changed his mind. He’d come back. He wasn’t going to leave them after all.

She raced down the hall. Pete and Daniel were wrong about what they’d heard; it was a lie. She grabbed the doorknob, ready to burst in without knocking. She stopped short at the sound of her mother’s voice.

“—take everything you want now, because I swear to God you’re not setting foot back inside this house without a court order.”

“Fine, I’ll do that.”

Andie heard the click of latches being opened. She brought a hand to her mouth. He wasn’t staying, she realized. He was packing.

“I’m really sorry, Marge. I never meant for this to happen.”

“Spare me the big apology,” her mother answered, her voice thick with tears. “I’ve given you the last twenty years of my life, and you give me ‘I’m really sorry’? No thanks.”

“What’s with the wounded surprise? This has been coming for months. Years, really. It’s been over for a long time.”

“You have children,” she said. “How can it be over? You made a vow to me, Dan.” Andie pressed her ear to the door and heard rustling noises, like clothes being dug out of drawers. “A vow,” she repeated. “Don’t you remember?”

“I know,” he said heavily, sounding tired, more tired than Andie had ever heard him. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” she repeated angrily. “Sorry? If you were sorry you wouldn’t do this! There’s someone else, isn’t there?”

“Marge, don’t—”

“Someone you love more than me. More than us.”

“Stop it, Marge. For God’s sake, the children will—”

“That’s right, the children. Your children. What do you care about them? If you cared, you wouldn’t do this.”

“I care plenty, and you know it.”

“Right. You care. Who’s always here for them, chauffeuring them to this class and that field trip? Who gave up a career to raise our kids? Our kids, Dan. Not just mine.”

Andie squeezed her eyes shut, feeling as though she might vomit, not wanting to hear her mother’s words but unable to tear herself away.

“Always playing the martyr, aren’t you? You’ve been throwing your ridiculous little career up in my face for twenty years. You worked at the newspaper as a cut-and-paste girl.”

“I was a commercial artist!” her mom cried. “I loved it, and I was good, too!”

“Well, here’s your chance to get back to it,” he said, slamming what sounded like a bureau drawer.

“I know there’s someone else. I’ve known for months.”

“For God’s sake—”

“Tell me it’s not true, then. Tell me you haven’t been having an affair. Tell me you haven’t been screwing around behind my back.”

Andie pressed a fist to her mouth, holding back a cry, praying for him to deny it was true.

He didn’t deny it. His silence spoke volumes.