Page 5 of Error Handling

“The part where you accept rides from complete strangers.”

“Most Uber drivers aren’t serial killers.”

“Well...okay,” she says with a little uptick in the middle.

“What’s up? Why did you call?”

“Our spring breaks coincide this year, so I thought I’d come down.”

Anxiety needles my gut. “Uh. Um. Dad’s coming down. He rented a VRBO on the beach and he invited me to stay with them for the week.”

“Them,” she scoffs. “Who is he sleeping with now?”

I don’t want to talk about Dad’s girlfriends with Mom.Again.

“Still Theresa, as far as I know,” I say nonchalantly. “Although, I try not to keep track of my father’s sleeping habits.”

“Hmph. That man will never change.” She waits for me to agree with her. I don’t dare. “Anyway, my plane lands at ten forty-five on Saturday the twelfth.”

“Dad rented a VRBO on Folly Island,” I say with more emphasis, “and he invited me to stay.”

“What for? You live forty minutes from the beach. You go all the time.”

“I guess he thought some family time would be nice. I don’t know.”

“Well, what will you do when I’m there? Are you going to stay with him all week or will we have some family time of our own?”

“So, you’re still coming.” I don’t bother to phrase it as a question.

“I told you I already bought my plane ticket.”

My chest constricts. Why didn’t I call Mom after making plans with my dad to run interference? The two have been divorced since I was ten years old, and they still bicker like they’re legally bound.

“I don’t need to pick you up at the airport,” I say. “You can call an Uber.”

“I am not getting into a stranger’s car, Sarah. That’s simply not happening.”

I sigh audibly, trying to relax my muscles. “Fine. Call me again, let it go to voicemail, and record the time and date you’re arriving so I don’t forget. I don’t have a piece of paper to write it down.”

“I’ll try,” Mom says.

“Just call and wait for it to go to voicemail.”

“I’m sure we’ll talk again before I’m due to arrive.”

“I know, but I need to come up with some kind of schedule since you and Dad will be competing for my attention.”

“I’m not competing for time with my own daughter. He has to share.”

“I’m sure he will,” I say. He won’t. Not without complaining anyway. My “relaxing” spring break now has the makings of a colossal train wreck.

“Have fun tonight, honey. You never know, maybe he’s the one.”

“Doubt it.”

“So do I.”

I roll my eyes. “Okay, I’m hanging up now. Call me back and leave a voicemail with the time and date.”