and she could already imagine the disappointed expressions of the rest of the organizing committee when the new focus was announced (by Kate, she fervently hoped). But they were doing the right thing, they were , so for once she wasn’t going to worry about gaining acceptance or pissing people off or any of the things she normally worried about.
She just wasn’t.
Besides, if Kate didn’t care, why should she?
Mindy bought the chicken she was going to serve for dinner at her last stop, because she’d seen enough warnings about chicken and how you needed to make sure to get it right home and into the fridge. And she’d cook it properly this time, with no pink juices flowing out of it. She was ashamed to admit that despite years of effort, she still hadn’t perfected cooking a chicken. It was such a basic thing—she thought it should be, anyway—and the fact that she was often hurrying it back to the oven after Peter’s carving knife had revealed that, once again, it wasn’t cooked through, was an embarrassment.
But it was Peter’s favorite, roast chicken with spices on top and a lemon inside, served with garlic rosemary potatoes and a tossed salad, and she liked doing things to make Peter happy. Even after all these years, she made sure that Angus and Carrie didn’t completely divert her attention from the person, the reason, she was living this life in the first place.
Angus . She had barely thought about him all day, she realized with a start. For once, the focus of her worry had been pulled away from her sixteen-year-old son. She’d spent so much time fretting about Angus this year, a constant slice of pain, like a deep paper cut, that his absence from her thoughts brought a kind of sting too. Because something was off about Angus, though she didn’t know what.
It hadn’t been any one thing, just a series of small incidents. He wasn’t off in the way Carrie had been, not in need of medical attention. And not in the building-bombs-in-the-basement kind of way (please, God, no). He’d simply moved out of her orbit and into a place she couldn’t quite understand. Was it depression like her brother suffered from? Was he struggling with his sexuality? Was he being bullied at school? No matter how many times she’d asked and poked and even snooped, she couldn’t figure out what it was.
Only that there was something.
Take this morning. Mindy had a feeling he’d been sneaking out at night, going off to smoke pot or whatever kids were smoking these days, and the way his clothes were strewn on the floor, that lingering scent, his complete lethargy, all seemed to confirm it. But as hard as she and Peter tried, they could never catch him. Room searches came up empty. The alarm on the house was never disabled. And teenagers like to sleep a lot and experiment and . . .
So, so, so .
Peter always said she shouldn’t worry so much, though she knew he was concerned too. He kept trying to get Angus to do the things they used to do together: throwing a ball around, going for long bike rides, rock climbing. But Angus wasn’t interested in those pastimes anymore. Not in doing them with his dad, anyway. And Peter’s quickly hidden hurt broke Mindy’s heart each time she saw it.
At least Carrie seemed to be skimming on top of whatever was dragging her brother under. As if being born with a hole in her heart had given her extra buoyancy. That might be a problem later on, Mindy knew, but for now it seemed to keep her safe from the worst of what many of her friends’ teenage girls were going through.
But Angus. They really did have to do something about him. Soon.
Mindy’s mind skipped to how strange it had been to see Elizabeth at the elementary school, even if it was only a glimpse across the room. That’s all she’d had of her since The Falling Out. And what was she doing talking to John Phillips? Mindy guessed it was about the fire, but it felt odd to see two people who had dominated her thoughts for
She just wasn’t.
Besides, if Kate didn’t care, why should she?
Mindy bought the chicken she was going to serve for dinner at her last stop, because she’d seen enough warnings about chicken and how you needed to make sure to get it right home and into the fridge. And she’d cook it properly this time, with no pink juices flowing out of it. She was ashamed to admit that despite years of effort, she still hadn’t perfected cooking a chicken. It was such a basic thing—she thought it should be, anyway—and the fact that she was often hurrying it back to the oven after Peter’s carving knife had revealed that, once again, it wasn’t cooked through, was an embarrassment.
But it was Peter’s favorite, roast chicken with spices on top and a lemon inside, served with garlic rosemary potatoes and a tossed salad, and she liked doing things to make Peter happy. Even after all these years, she made sure that Angus and Carrie didn’t completely divert her attention from the person, the reason, she was living this life in the first place.
Angus . She had barely thought about him all day, she realized with a start. For once, the focus of her worry had been pulled away from her sixteen-year-old son. She’d spent so much time fretting about Angus this year, a constant slice of pain, like a deep paper cut, that his absence from her thoughts brought a kind of sting too. Because something was off about Angus, though she didn’t know what.
It hadn’t been any one thing, just a series of small incidents. He wasn’t off in the way Carrie had been, not in need of medical attention. And not in the building-bombs-in-the-basement kind of way (please, God, no). He’d simply moved out of her orbit and into a place she couldn’t quite understand. Was it depression like her brother suffered from? Was he struggling with his sexuality? Was he being bullied at school? No matter how many times she’d asked and poked and even snooped, she couldn’t figure out what it was.
Only that there was something.
Take this morning. Mindy had a feeling he’d been sneaking out at night, going off to smoke pot or whatever kids were smoking these days, and the way his clothes were strewn on the floor, that lingering scent, his complete lethargy, all seemed to confirm it. But as hard as she and Peter tried, they could never catch him. Room searches came up empty. The alarm on the house was never disabled. And teenagers like to sleep a lot and experiment and . . .
So, so, so .
Peter always said she shouldn’t worry so much, though she knew he was concerned too. He kept trying to get Angus to do the things they used to do together: throwing a ball around, going for long bike rides, rock climbing. But Angus wasn’t interested in those pastimes anymore. Not in doing them with his dad, anyway. And Peter’s quickly hidden hurt broke Mindy’s heart each time she saw it.
At least Carrie seemed to be skimming on top of whatever was dragging her brother under. As if being born with a hole in her heart had given her extra buoyancy. That might be a problem later on, Mindy knew, but for now it seemed to keep her safe from the worst of what many of her friends’ teenage girls were going through.
But Angus. They really did have to do something about him. Soon.
Mindy’s mind skipped to how strange it had been to see Elizabeth at the elementary school, even if it was only a glimpse across the room. That’s all she’d had of her since The Falling Out. And what was she doing talking to John Phillips? Mindy guessed it was about the fire, but it felt odd to see two people who had dominated her thoughts for
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