For once my mom drives me to Hallie’s instead of having my dad get me. She even walks me up to the house and says hello to Zeke when he opens the door.
“Oh, hi,” says Hallie, smiling as she bounds down the stairs. She’s in another yoga outfit. Lavender and pink. The gold Buddha dances on her necklace. Her curls bounce.
“Hello,” my mother answers. She’s professional and polite. Short hair and trousers. Black turtleneck. Practical watch. It’s April, and she’s wearing sunglasses. I can’t believe my father married both of these women. I’ve seen pictures of the weddings. My mom and dad in a church. Hallie and my dad in someone’s backyard. My mother didn’t want me to go. She said it would be too much for me. Anders and Zeke were the ring bearers. Hallie didn’t wear white, but I guess that’s because she was married before. Her first husband died.
Hallie tells Zeke to take my overnight bag to “Nyetta’s room,” and I can feel my mother tense up. She’s sending out electrical impulses only I can read. She’s my daughter! My daughter! She doesn’t have a room in your house!
“Enjoy the weekend,” she tells me.
“Thanks for driving,” says Hallie. “And don’t forget Sunday dinner! See you at six!”
The door slams and my mother stamps to the street. Her car takes off.
“Sunday dinner?” I ask, stunned. “All of us?”
“Yes. Sunday dinner. Family dinner.”
“But we aren’t a family,” I say.
“Sure we are,” says Hallie. “I’m making polenta.”
I drift about the house, wondering where Hallie got such a weird idea and when my dad will be back from the store, feeling as tired as I’ve ever been in my whole life. I fall into the fluffy couch in front of the big-screen TV. Pillows pin me down like sandbags. The Disney Channel blares. Anders and Zeke sit directly in front of the screen, cross-legged, transfixed by lemurs and spider monkeys. Hallie sets up a little table for me with a cup of tea and a plate of gingersnaps.
“I want some!” Anders yells.
“Use your manners and I’ll see.”
“Nyetta didn’t use her manners,” says Zeke. “She didn’t even ask for cookies.”
“Nyetta’s tired,” says Hallie. “She’s been through a lot.”
“Lucky!” says Zeke.
“No,” says Hallie. “Not lucky.” She puts her hand on my forehead, slides it to my cheek, checking for fever. “But things are getting better. I can feel it.”