Don't Make Me Smile (10 page)

When we got there, I grabbed the blanket and ran to find us a perfect spot to sit down. I decided on a place right next to the lake. It was really pretty there.

As soon as my parents caught up with me, my
mother sat down on the blanket and started opening up the basket of food.

“No, wait. Hold it,” I said. “We're not supposed to eat yet. We usually play Frisbee to work up an appetite first.”

“I've never really liked to play Frisbee,” said my mother. “I always break my fingernails when I catch it.”

Dad grinned. “How could that be? You never catch it,” he said.

“I do so,” Mom snapped. “The only time I don't catch it is when you whiz it at me at ninety miles an hour.”

“Don't be a sissy,” said Dad. “Come on, let's play.”

My mother stood up. “Frisbee,” she said, under her breath. “Even the name of it sounds dumb.”

Dad got the Frisbee out of the truck. On his way back, he tossed it to me. I caught it and threw it back.

When he got closer, he tossed it to my mother. It hit her in the head.

“Okay, that's it. I'm not playing anymore,” she said.

She went to the blanket and started pulling all the food out of the picnic basket.

“It's time to eat,” she called. “If you don't come now, the flies will get it.”

I went over and bent down next to her. “You're not acting very grown-up about this,” I said quietly.

She told me to shut up. Seriously. She actually said to
shut up
on my birthday.

Things were tenser than I thought.

My father grabbed a sandwich. “What kind is it?” he asked.

“Liverwurst,” said my mother.

Dad made a sick face. “Liverwurst? I
hate
liverwurst,” he said.

Mom smiled. “Yes, I know,” she said.

Things weren't going at all like I had hoped. In fact, I didn't think they could get any worse. But I was wrong.

While we were eating, a woman and two chubby toddlers came walking toward us. The woman was carrying a blanket and a grocery bag. When she got about three feet from us, she smiled and spread her blanket right next to ours.

I couldn't believe my eyes. I mean, the whole park was practically empty, and she had to sit directly next to us.

But that's not even the worst part. The worst
part is that the little kids had no manners at all. As soon as their blanket was ready, they plopped down and started to stare.

Dad said to ignore them, but it wasn't easy. They were the rudest kids I had ever seen. I hate being stared at. I tried staring back, but it didn't work. Little kids can go forever without looking away.

After we had finished eating, my father went to the truck again. He came back with an armful of gifts. Man, you should have seen the kids then! They started acting like they were at my birthday party or something.

Their mother did, too. “Ooooh, are you a birthday boy?” she said.

The older kid pointed to one of my presents. “I bet that's a football. Look how it's wrapped. You can tell.”

I could see that this made my father mad. It was his present. He'd wrapped it himself. He turned around and told the kid to “please be quiet.”

Before I opened anything, my mother passed out cupcakes to Dad and me. As soon as she got them out of the box, the littlest kid waddled right onto our blanket.

“Me want cupcake, too,” he said.

His mother laughed.

My mother didn't. “I only have three,” she said, kind of grouchy.

The kid stamped his foot. “Barney want cupcake. Barney want cupcake!” he hollered.

“Go on,” said Mom. “You look like you've had too many cupcakes already.”

When she heard that, the kid's mother stopped laughing. “He's just a baby,” she said.

Meanwhile, the kid was still screaming. “Barney want cupcake!”

By this time, my mother had really had it. She leaned real close to the kid's face and shouted, “No! No cupcake!”

I guess she must have scared him. The kid jumped about a foot and fell over our blanket. He started crying as loud as he could.

His mother came over and picked him up. “It's people like you who make children afraid of strangers,” she said.

Then she grabbed her blanket and stomped off.

The other little kid stood there a second. “Meanie!” he said.

My mother was even angrier than I thought. I could hardly believe what she said next.

“Go home, brat boy!” she hollered.

The kid turned and ran.

I still can't believe she said that. Let's face it. “Go home, brat boy” is not something that mothers usually say.

My father and I both stared at her.

“Well, I'm sorry,” she said. “But he was getting on my nerves.”

“For heaven's sake,” said Dad. “He was just a little kid.”

“I
said
I was sorry,” snapped my mother. “Let's just forget about it.”

She turned to me. “Well, are you going to open up your presents or not?”

“Yeah, sure,” I said.

“Which one do you want to open first?” asked my father.

“The football,” I said.

Dad handed me the package. I could tell he was still mad about it.

“How do you know it's a football?” he asked. “Just because that little kid said so, doesn't mean it's a football. It could be anything.”

I opened it up.

It was a football.

I opened up the rest of the presents. Mom had bought me some CDs and a boom box for
my room. My father gave me the football and two computer games.

After I had thanked them, we all piled into the truck and drove home. This time, I sat in the middle. It was a lot more comfortable that way.

When we got there, Mom and I got out of the truck. I started to walk around to say good-bye to my father. But as it turned out, I didn't have to. He was already on his way to the house. I guess he just didn't want to leave me on my birthday.

I have to admit, when I saw him going in the front door, it really surprised me. It must have surprised my mother, too. Before either of us knew it, Dad had sat down on the couch.

My mother crossed her arms.

“Won't you sit down?” she asked.

My father smiled. This whole situation was stressing me out. Having them together at the picnic had turned out to be bad enough. But being inside the house with them was even worse. I knew that, sooner or later, an argument was going to get started.

I wasn't quite sure what I should do. Finally, I sat down on the couch next to Dad.

Mom didn't know what to do, either. For a while, she walked around pretending to be busy. Then she gave up and sat down in the chair across from us.

For a long time, no one said a word. It was worse than the dinner with Cousin Hank. We all just sat there looking at the floor. All I could hear was the sound of my father's watch ticking.
Tick-tick-tick
 …

It reminded me of this TV show I saw one time. It was about these two policemen who had to take the fuse out of a time bomb so it wouldn't explode. It really got tense at the end. They had to work very slowly so they wouldn't accidentally set it off. But the whole time they were working, all you could hear was the
tick-tick-tick
of the time bomb … just like my father's watch.

All of a sudden, I couldn't stand the silence anymore. I tried to start a conversation.

“So, did you guys have a nice time today?” I asked.

It was probably the worst question I could have asked.

“I did,” said Dad. “It was really fun, wasn't it? I especially liked tossing around the old Frisbee.”

My mother glared. “I liked the liverwurst,” she said.

Okay. That did it.

“Excuse me,” I said. “I'll be right back.”

I left the room and hurried down the hall. I went straight to Mom's bedroom and called Dr. Girard. His secretary said he was busy on the other line.

“Yeah, but this is an emergency,” I said in my loudest whisper. “I really need to talk to him now.”

Dr. Girard picked up the phone right away.

I told him what was going on.

We didn't talk long. We didn't have to. The answer to my problem turned out to be so simple, I should have known it myself.

When I got off the phone, I went back to the living room and sat down next to Dad again. Only this time, I sat extra close.

“I need to tell you something private,” I said softly.

My father leaned his head over in my direction.

I cupped my hands around his ear.

“Could you please go home?” I whispered.

Dad sat there a second; then he smiled a little. Dr. Girard said he would understand.

He got up and said good-bye to my mother.

I walked him to the door. When we got there, he bent down and gave me a hug.

“I guess sometimes adults aren't quite as grown-up as they think they are,” he said.

He hugged me again and left.

T
ODAY IS Sunday. Dad just called. He's going to stop by later on and pick me up. We're going over to his place and toss around my new football.

I don't mind going over there quite as much anymore. He's painted the walls and bought himself a new couch to replace the smelly one.

For a joke, he bought me a can of rose-scented bathroom spray. He lets me spray the room before I sit down.

It's funny, but there have been times lately when I've begun to think of him as more than just my father. There have been times when he's
started to seem like someone I might actually like to hang out with.

My mother still seems exactly like my mother. But maybe that will be changing, too. The other day she told me that she's looking for a job.

When I first heard her say it, I started laughing. I think I hurt her feelings. I didn't mean to. It's just that she's always been a stay-at-home mom, so it's hard for me to think of her as a working person.

I talked to Dr. Girard about it. He told me that when his parents got divorced, his mother became a mailman.

I must have laughed for about ten minutes when he said that. I don't know why, but the thought of my mother becoming a mailman really kills me.

Dr. Girard is a pretty funny guy.

Sometimes I think back to when I first met him. It seems like a long time ago, but it's only been a couple of months.

I think I've come a long way in two months. I don't go around happy all the time, but I'm not sad as much, either.

I guess nothing can keep you sad forever. Forever is just too long.

It's like that bicycle I told you about earlier. As you stand there and watch it get run over, you get this real sick feeling inside. But after a while, you realize that if you save your money, you can get another one. It may take some time, but you can do it.

And even though the second bike may be different from the first one, you can still be happy with it. Just because it's different doesn't make it bad.

I guess that's what I'm trying to do now. I'm trying to be happy with something different. I know it's going to take time before I feel like my old self again. But at least I think I'm getting closer.

Like take today, for instance. When I walked by my mirror this morning, I caught myself smiling.

And no one even had to ask.

My Mother Got Married (And Other Disasters)

Another bummer!

Charlie Hickle's life has become a three-ring circus. It was bad enough that Charlie's parents got divorced. Now, to make matters worse, Charlie's mom is getting remarried, and suddenly there are
way
too many people in one house. First there's his new stepfather, the nature guy. Then there's his five-year-old stepbrother, Thomas the pest, who's Charlie's new roommate. Worst of all, Charlie has to deal with his stepsister, Lydia the phone-hog. His mom promises that things will work out eventually.

But Charlie isn't interested in
eventually.
He wants things back the way they used to be—
right now!