Page 132 of Error Handling

“But I yelled at my parents.”

“Did you say some things that needed to be said?”

“Yeah.” I slump into my chair and scratch my thumbnail along the side of my cup.

“But you have more you need to say.”

For some reason, tears well up in my eyes again. Why? I thought that well was dry for the day. And Cassie has done a great job of calming me down.

Maybe that’s why more tears are coming. The tension is breaking, creating cracks in the dam. I wipe my cheek and sniff.

“My dad cheated on my mom,” I say.

Cassie purses her lips and nods. Her silence is my invitation to continue.

“Several times,” I say. “After their divorce, it’s been woman after woman. I never know who I’m going to meet when I go to his house.” I wipe another tear. “Mom is still bitter about it. She won’t let go. It’s like she thinks he’s still cheating on her.”

“Maybe in a way he is,” Cassie says. “Marriage is supposed to be for keeps.”

“But when it’s over, it’s over. It’s time to let go. For your own sanity. But Mom has never managed to let go and forgive.”

“Fair point,” Cassie says.

“When they were married, they used to fight a lot... About their personal business.” I feel a blush rising to my cheeks. “About how things were going, or not going, in the bedroom.”

Cassie’s eyebrows rise. “How old were you when they discussed these things in front of you?”

I think back to my old bedroom. We redecorated it when I was eleven. But they were fighting much earlier than that. I still hadDora the Explorerwall art.

“Eight, maybe? Maybe seven.”

Now Cassie’s eyebrows meet in the middle. “That sounds very inappropriate.”

“It was.” I sniff.

“Do you think their inappropriate fighting, along with your dad’s cheating, is why you never had crushes on boys when you were growing up?”

“I liked Zac Efron.”

“I mean boys your age. Peers.”

“This is getting deep.” I chuckle to counteract my growing discomfort with her question.

“I’m sorry.” She waves her hands and then stuffs them into the pockets of her dress pants. “I didn’t mean to meddle.”

“No. You’re right. It probably had something to do with it. And I probably need counseling.”

“I don’t know about that. That’s up to you. I’d say you’re a pretty normal twenty-something trying to find your way. According to my mom, the twenties are a hard decade. Has anyone told you that?”

I shake my head.

“We’re establishing our identity. We aren’t sure what we want out of life. We’re the low man on the totem pole at work, not making the best wage. Maybe getting married and trying to decide about starting a family. It’s a lot.”

When she puts it that way, I realize she’s right. It has been hard. “Your mom sounds smart.”

“She is.”

My phone rings, and I nearly knock over my mocha. Today did a number on my nerves. I grab my phone from my purse. It’s Luna.