It's Not the End of the World Read online

  When we were almost through, Mom said, “I have something to tell you.” She wasn’t looking at Aunt Ruth or Uncle Dan. She was looking at me and Jeff and Amy. “I wanted to tell you before, but I just couldn’t. It isn’t easy for me to say this and it won’t be easy for you to understand …”

  I dropped my fork then. It made a clinking sound when it hit the floor. I bent down to get it.

  Uncle Dan said, “Let it go, Karen. The waitress can bring you another one.”

  “Go ahead … tell us what you were going to say, Mother,” Jeff said.

  Mom took a deep breath and said, “Daddy and I are separating.”

  “I knew it!” Jeff said, looking at me.

  I felt tears come to my eyes. I told myself, don’t start crying now Karen, you jerk. Not now. I sniffled and took a long swallow of Coke. I guess I knew it all the time. I was just fooling myself—playing games like Amy.

  “What’s separating?” Amy asked.

  “It means your father isn’t going to live at home any more,” Aunt Ruth explained.

  “But he has to!” Amy said. “He’s our father.”

  “Shush …” Aunt Ruth told her. “Everyone can hear.”

  “I don’t care,” Amy shouted, looking around the restaurant. But there were only a few other customers.

  Uncle Dan reached for Amy’s hand. “Sometimes, when a mother and father have problems, they live apart for a while to think things over.”

  “Is he coming back?” Jeff asked. “Or are you getting a divorce?”

  “We don’t know yet,” Mom told him.

  “A divorce!” I said, when I hadn’t planned to say anything. “You wouldn’t! You wouldn’t get a divorce!” Then I started crying for real and I jumped up from the table and ran through the restaurant. I heard Aunt Ruth call, “Karen … Karen … come back here.” But I kept going. I didn’t want to hear any more. I went out the front door and stood against the sign that said Red Bull Inn, letting the tears roll down my face.

  Soon Aunt Ruth came with my coat. “Karen,” she said, “put this on. You’ll freeze to death.”

  “Go away,” I told her.

  Aunt Ruth wrapped the coat around my shoulders. “Karen … don’t be like that. This is even harder on your mother than it is on you. She’s very upset … if she sees you like this it’s going to make her feel even worse.”

  You don’t argue with Aunt Ruth. She has a habit of not listening to anything she doesn’t want to hear. So I put on my coat and Aunt Ruth said, “Now, that’s better.”

  We walked through the parking lot to the car. Aunt Ruth kept her arm around me. “Nothing is settled yet,” she said. “Your father is home packing his things now. That’s why we all went out to lunch. To give him a chance to move.”

  “But doesn’t he want to see us? Doesn’t he care? How can he move out of his own house?”

  “Karen … there are some things that are very hard for children to understand.”

  That’s what people say when they can’t explain something to you. I don’t believe it. I can understand anything they can understand. I got into the car but I didn’t say anything else. I looked out the side window.

  “You have to be the one to help your mother,” Aunt Ruth said. “She needs you … more than ever.”

  I shook my head and pressed my forehead against the window. Why did Jeff have to be right? Why couldn’t it have been something else? If only we could go back a few days and start again maybe things would work out differently.

  My mother came out of the restaurant with Amy and Jeff. Mom was carrying an ice-cream cone. “Here, Karen,” she said. “I know you like dessert best.”

  I tried to smile at Mom because I couldn’t say thank you. I knew if I said anything I’d start crying. I didn’t want the cone, even though it was coffee, my favorite flavor. But I took it from Mom and licked it anyway.

  “Dan will be right out,” Mom told Aunt Ruth. “He’s paying the check.”

  “Shove over, Karen,” Jeff said.

  “No, I like it here,” I told him. “Get in on the other side.”

  “I said shove over!” Jeff repeated.

  When I didn’t, he climbed across me and stepped on my foot. I kicked him as hard as I could. He gave me an elbow in the ribs and my ice cream landed in my lap.

  Six

  What will happen to me if they get divorced? Who will I live with? Where will I go to school? Will my friends laugh? I want a mother and a father and I want them to live together—right here—in this house! I don’t care if they fight. I would rather have them fight than be divorced. I’m scared … I’m so scared. I wish somebody would talk to me and tell me it’s going to be all right. I miss Daddy already. I hate them both! I wish I was dead.

  On Monday morning I didn’t get up. My mother came into my room to see what was wrong. “I’m sick,” I told her. “I can’t go to school.”

  Mom sat down on my bed. “I know how you feel about me and Daddy …”

  “It’s not that,” I said. “I wasn’t even thinking about you. It’s my head and my stomach. I might throw up.”

  Mom put her hand on my forehead. “You don’t feel warm.”

  “A person can be very sick without a fever,” I said.

  “You’re right,” she told me. “I better call Dr. Winters.”

  “Don’t bother,” I said. “I just want to sleep.”

  “Well … okay. But if you get any worse I’ll have to call him.”

  “If I can just sleep I’ll feel better.”

  “All right.”

  I heard Jeff and Amy getting ready for school. How can they go? How can they face their friends? I heard my mother calling, “Amy … Amy … hurry up or you’ll miss the bus.” Some things never change, I thought.

  I stayed in bed all day. My mother made me tea and toast but I wouldn’t eat it. Later she tried soup but I wouldn’t eat that either. She said if I didn’t take something she’d have to call the doctor. So I drank some juice.

  Debbie stopped by after school, on the way to her piano lesson. She came upstairs and stood in the doorway of my room.

  “Hi,” she said. “What’s wrong?”

  “Everything,” I told her. She looked pretty. Her cheeks were all pink from the cold. I wanted to tell her about my mother and father. I wanted to tell her so bad it made my head hurt for real. But I couldn’t. Saying it would make it come true.

  Debbie sat down on my other bed. “Your mother said it’s not catching so it’s all right for me to be in your room.”

  “My mother told you it’s not catching?” I asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Well, I’d like to know how she can say that.”

  “I don’t know,” Debbie said, “but she did. You look like you’ve been crying.”

  “So? Maybe I have been. Don’t you ever cry when you’re sick?”

  “No,” Debbie said.

  “Well, this is an unusual sickness. It makes you cry!”

  “Why are you mad at me?” Debbie asked.

  “I’m not,” I said. “I just don’t feel like talking. Can’t you see … I’m sick!”

  “Want me to make monkey faces for you?”

  “No—not today.” Debbie can make very good monkey faces. She can look like a chimpanzee or a gorilla. Usually I crack up when she does them. But I didn’t feel like laughing today.

  “Will you be back in school tomorrow?” Debbie asked.

  “No. I’ll be out a long, long time. I may never get better.”

  “Oh, come on, Karen! You want me to bring you your books?”

  “I’ve got my English book home.”

  “How about math?”

  “No … I don’t want it.”

  “Should I tell Mrs. Singer what’s wrong with you?”

  “No. Don’t tell her anything!”

  Debbie looked at the floor. I turned away from her and faced the wall. After a minute she said, “Is Jeff home yet?”

  “How should I know
? I’m in bed. Can’t you see that?”

  “I was just wondering … that’s all.”

  “He doesn’t like you anyway, so why don’t you just leave him alone.”

  “Did he say that?” Debbie asked.

  “He doesn’t have to. Anyone with eyes can see it. And who did you come here to see anyway … me or him?” I was making Debbie feel bad and I was glad. Sometimes I am a mean and rotten person.

  Debbie jumped up. “I came to see you and you know it! Whatever’s wrong with you I hope it goes away soon because it’s making you impossible!” Debbie walked to the door. “I’m going.”

  “So go!” I told her.

  “I am.”

  Lying to Debbie did not make me feel any better. It made me feel worse.

  Later Mom came into my room and told me to put on my robe and come downstairs for dinner.

  “I don’t want anything to eat,” I said.

  “Karen, if you don’t get up and come down you can’t go to school tomorrow.”

  “So?”

  “If you don’t go to school tomorrow, you won’t be able to have dinner with Daddy.”

  I sat up. “He’s coming back?”

  “No. He’s taking you and Jeff and Amy out to eat. He wants to talk to you.”

  “Who says I want to talk to him?” I asked.

  “Karen … don’t be like that! Daddy is a wonderful person. He loves you.”

  “If he’s so wonderful why are you separated?”

  “Because we can’t get along,” Mom said.

  “You could try!” I told her, feeling a lump in my throat.

  “We have tried. Now I don’t want to talk about it any more.”

  I put on my robe and went down for dinner. I wonder if anyone will ever talk about it!

  Seven

  Debbie was really surprised to see me at the bus stop the next morning. “I thought you were very sick,” she said.

  “I was. But I got better.”

  “So fast?” she asked.

  “Yes. It was one of those twenty-four-hour bugs.”

  “Oh.”

  “Hey, look, Debbie … I’m really sorry I acted that way yesterday. It was just that my head was killing me and all.…”

  “Forget it,” Debbie said.

  “Did I miss much in school?” I asked.

  “No. Same old thing. Mrs. Singer changed our desks around. I’m next to Gary Owens and Eileen.”

  “Where am I?”

  “I’m not sure. But I think you’re next to the wall on one side.”

  “That figures,” I said. “One more way for Mrs. Singer to get me.”

  “I really don’t think she’s out to get you,” Debbie said.

  “Ha-ha.”

  “I mean it, Karen. You know I can’t stand her either, but I don’t think she treats you any worse than the rest of us.”

  “Well, I do.”

  When we got to school I handed Mrs. Singer my note from home. It said: Please excuse Karen’s absence on Monday. She wasn’t feeling well.

  Mrs. Singer said, “I’m glad you’re feeling better, Karen.”

  I looked at her. Did she know something? Did my mother call the school and tell them about Daddy moving out? Why else would Mrs. Singer act nice all of a sudden? She never says anything when you’ve been absent. One time Debbie was sick for a couple of weeks and when she came back to school Mrs. Singer didn’t even smile. So why should she be glad I’m feeling better? If she knows the truth about my parents I will absolutely die.

  My father called for us at five that night. He didn’t come inside. He just tooted his horn. Amy ran out of the house first. “Daddy … Daddy … Daddy …” she yelled. Jeff and I followed. We got into the car and said, “Hi.”

  We went to Howard Johnson’s on the highway. We sat in a booth in the back room and my father ordered a Martini. You have to sit in that section if you’re going to have a drink. It was pretty quiet in the dining room. Maybe because it was so early or maybe because it was Tuesday night. Monday and Wednesday are the Big Fish Fry and Big Chicken Fry nights, where you can eat all you want for $1.98.

  I can’t remember ever eating out with just Daddy and not Mom too. I think we all felt funny. I know I did. There I was with my own father and it was like I hadn’t seen him for ages instead of just a few days. He looked the same. I didn’t expect him not to. But I thought there’d be something different about him now. I don’t know what. But something that would let people know he didn’t live at home any more.

  After we ordered, Daddy said, “I miss you all very much.”

  Me and Jeff mumbled that we missed him too.

  Then Amy asked, “Do you miss Mommy?”

  My father looked sad and said, “No, I don’t.”

  “Are you getting a divorce?” Jeff asked.

  “Yes,” my father answered.

  “I thought you were just thinking about it,” I said. “I thought it wasn’t definite yet.”

  “We’re definitely getting a divorce,” he said. “It’s the only way.”

  “Do you love somebody else?” Jeff asked. “Or does Mom?”

  I never even thought about that! I couldn’t picture my father with another woman or my mother with another man. That was disgusting! How could Jeff even think of such a thing? I took a sip of water and waited for my father to answer.

  “No … no …” he said. “It’s nothing like that. There’s nobody else involved. Your mother and I just don’t get along. We can’t go on living together. It’s making a mess of our lives.”

  “Suppose we don’t want you to get a divorce?” I said.

  “I’m sorry, Karen, but this is between your mother and me.”

  “I want to live with you, Daddy!” Amy said.

  “Don’t be a jerk,” Jeff told Amy. “The kids always live with the mother.”

  “Is that true?” I asked.

  “Yes, usually,” Daddy said. “Unless there’s some reason why the mother shouldn’t have the children.”

  “What about us?” I asked. “Where will we live?”

  “With your mother.”

  “But where?”

  “Right now you’ll stay in the house.”

  “But for how long?” I asked.

  “Karen … you’re asking me questions I can’t answer,” Daddy said. “We haven’t worked out any of the details yet. I’m seeing my lawyer tomorrow. You don’t get divorced overnight.”

  “How long does it take?” Jeff asked.

  “That depends. I guess about six months. Maybe more.”

  “Daddy …” Amy said, “please come home.”

  My father held Amy to him. Then he took off his glasses and started to clean them with his napkin. I think he had tears in his eyes. I didn’t feel like eating anything.

  After dinner Daddy took us into the motel to see his room. It has two beds and a TV. The bathroom is very small. “Are you going to live here forever?” I asked.

  “No. Just until I find an apartment.”

  “Will we still see you?” I said.

  “Of course you will. I’m your father and I’ll always love you. Divorce has nothing to do with that.”

  After a few minutes Jeff said, “Well … I’ve got to get home. I have lots of homework to do.” His voice broke on every word.

  Nobody said much on the drive back to our house. When we got there Amy asked Daddy to come in and carry her up to bed like he always does. But Daddy said, “No, I’m not coming in.”

  Tuesday, March 2

  Divorce … it’s the end of the world.

  Eight

  In the middle of the night Amy shook me. I sat straight up in bed. “What’s the matter?” I asked.

  “I’m afraid to go to sleep,” she said.

  “Why?”

  “I’m afraid if I do you’ll all be gone in the morning, just like Daddy.”

  “That’s silly,” I told her.

  She threw her arms around me. She was shaking. I held her tight. �
�Can I sleep in here with you?” she asked.

  “I guess so,” I said. But I really didn’t want her to. I wanted to be alone. How could I cry with Amy in my other bed?

  As soon as I tucked her in she fell asleep. But I tossed and turned for a long time. I wish I could talk to somebody about my parents. If only Debbie knew—I think I would feel better. I’ve got to figure out a way to tell her what’s happening. She’ll be able to cheer me up. Besides making monkey faces, Debbie has a very good sense of humor. I guess that’s why everybody likes her. She doesn’t even mind laughing at herself. I’m really lucky to have her for a best friend, even though I don’t always show it. I am sure just having her know the truth will help.

  On Wednesday afternoons Debbie and I walk to Girl Scouts together. Our troop meets at Willow Grove Church. That’s just a few blocks from school. Then either Debbie’s mother or mine picks us up. I used to love my Girl Scout uniform. But I am thinking of quitting after this year. So is Debbie. We are both sick of selling cookies and calendars to the same people year after year. If we had a good leader it would be different. But ours is a bore. If I was ever going to be a Girl Scout leader I would think up interesting activities for my group to do. And if they made a lot of noise I wouldn’t yell that they give me a headache.

  I planned to tell Debbie about my parents while we were walking to our meeting. But by three o’clock I was so mad at Mrs. Singer I couldn’t think of anything else! Because this afternoon she called me up to her desk to discuss this month’s book report. It was due last Monday. I scribbled mine out Sunday night before I went to sleep. I never even read the book. I just copied some stuff off the inside flap of the jacket. I’ve never done that before, but some kids in my class do it all the time.

  Mrs. Singer said, “Did you enjoy the book you read this month, Karen?”

  I said, “It was all right.”

  “Your book report wasn’t nearly as good as usual.”

  “I was very busy,” I told her. “I had to do it in a hurry.”