Love and Other Four-Letter Words
Page 15
I hugged my blanket around my shoulders as I thought about my conversation with Dad yesterday. He had invited me to fly back to California with him, to live in Palo Alto for the school year. My mind had immediately raced to Phoebe and Eli and the fact that I'm actually starting to feel at home in New York City. Dad must have read it on my face, because he emphasized that I didn't have to decide right away, that I could change my mind at any time.
As I looked out at the cloudless sky, this old Bob Dylan song ran through my head. The real title is “Love Is Just a Four-Letter Word,” but when Dad played it for me a few years ago, I thought it was love and other fourletter words. I remember plunging into hysterics at the notion that love could go hand in hand with all the choice profanities my preteen brain could muster up.
I snuggled deeper in my covers. In a strange way, it sort of makes sense. That along with love comes other four-letter words. Like hate, obviously. And loss. And gain. And most important, grow.
I've been thinking about growth a lot lately. Thinking about what Mom said, about friendships having their ebbs and flows. I've decided I'm going to e-mail Kitty really soon. I'm not up for any big talks yet, but if Mom and I end up driving to Ithaca, maybe we could just go for a walk or something.
I could hear Mom's key turning in the lock. A second later, Moxie poked her wet nose in my face.
“You're up already?” Mom asked as she hung the leash on the doorknob.
“Now I am.” I wriggled away from Moxie. “It's a beautiful day. Would you like to go out to breakfast before you meet Dad?”
“Sure.” I glanced at the clock. Dad and I had agreed to spend the morning together, renting bikes in Central Park, maybe even coming back to the apartment so I could show him what I'd learned on my guitar.
As Mom closed up the futon, I threw on some clothes and pulled my hair into a ponytail. Just before we headed out, I grabbed my sweatshirt from the closet. Tying it around my waist, I noticed that it smelled like campfire smoke. My stomach flipped over. The last time I'd worn it was at Bear Mountain.
The waiter had just refilled Mom's coffee cup when she stirred in some cream and said, “I don't know how to put this. …”
I took a bite of my waffle and glanced at her. I'd been surprised when she'd walked through the door yesterday with a shoulder-length, layered haircut. She'd explained how she was passing by a salon on Saturday when she caught her reflection in the window and before she knew it a woman named Destiny was snipping away.
Destiny thought this style would show off my eyes, Mom had added.
When Mom said that, it suddenly hit me that the circles under her eyes were finally starting to fade.
Mom picked up her coffee cup and set it down again without taking a sip.
“I guess I want to apologize … for being such a wreck this summer.”
I was about to say That's okay when Mom shook her head.
“No, it's not okay … but if it's any consolation, I'm going to start seeing a therapist.”
“Really?”
Mom nodded. “And Dad and I had a much-needed conversation yesterday morning … about money. Not to go into specifics, but we're going to dip into our savings so I can take the year off, enroll in some art classes, reevaluate my teaching career.”
“That's great, Mom!”
“I know.”
We were quiet for a little bit. After a while, I said, “I'm sorry I yelled at you last week—”
“You don't have to apologize. There was a lot of truth to what you said … which is always the hardest thing to hear.”
As Mom reached over and touched my arm, I choked up again, for the third time in less than twenty-four hours. Before I know it, I'm going to turn into a regular crier, just like Mom. An Onion Junior.
Mom and I had been back at the apartment for a half hour when Dad rang the buzzer.
“Do you want me to let him up?” Mom called from the hallway.
“No.” I slipped into my sneakers. “Tell him I'll come downstairs.”
When Mom returned, she sat next to me on the futon.
“Sammie?” “Yeah?” “I want you to know that wherever you choose to live next year, I fully support you either way.”
“Thanks for saying that,” I said as I tied my laces. “Thanks a lot.”
As I was riding down in the elevator a few minutes later, I realized something. Whatever decision I make, I'm going to be in the driver's seat. And I still don't even have my learner's permit yet.
Published by
Delacorte Press
an imprint of Random House Children's Books
a division of Random House, Inc.
New York
Text copyright © 2000 by Carolyn Mackler
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Macker, Carolyn.
Love and Other Four-Letter Words / by Carolyn Mackler. p. cm.
Summary: When she and her mother move to an apartment in New York City after her parents decide on a trial separation, sixteen-year-old Sammie learns to deal with her mother's fragile mental state, her best friend's self-centeredness, several new friendships, and her own budding sexuality.
eISBN: 978-0-307-48774-2
[1. Interpersonal relations—Fiction. 2. Family problems—Fiction. 3. Self-perception— Fiction.] I. Title.
PZ7.M2178 Lo 2000 [Fic]—dc21 00-025189
v3.0
Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Chapter - One
Chapter - Two
Chapter - Three
Chapter - Four
Chapter - Five
Chapter - Six
Chapter - Seven
Chapter - Eight
Chapter - Nine
Chapter - Ten
Chapter - Eleven
Chapter - Twelve
Chapter - Thirteen
Chapter - Fourteen
Chapter - Fifteen
Chapter - Sixteen
Chapter - Seventeen
Chapter - Eighteen
Chapter - Nineteen
Chapter - Twenty
Chapter - Twenty-One
Chapter - Twenty-Two
Copyright