Page 24 of The Rebound
“You should take more zinc.”
“I’ll get some. Dad?”
“What?” Dad’s eyes snap back to me from where they’d been drifting to the iPad on his lap.
“Are you playing solitaire?”
A brief pause. “No.”
“Well, could you continue not playing solitaire so you can pay attention to your youngest child? Mam?”
I watch as she takes the iPad from him, tucking it in between her and the armrest of the sinking white couch in their living room. Warm sunlight shines through a window to the left of her, the only indication of where they are. Otherwise it’s like they could walk through my bedroom door at any moment. The thought of it makes my heart hurt. I’d avoided their calls when I lost my job, only sending them a few carefully worded texts to let them know I was okay. I couldn’t bring myself to talk to them. Even though I knew it was ridiculous, the whole thing felt likemyfault. Like if only I’d chosen another company or I’d worked a little harder, I wouldn’t be in this mess.
“It’s nice of you to finally call us,” Mam says. She leans toward the screen, still examining me. “A week after you landed.”
“I’ve been busy.”
“Louise said you were delayed getting back. You shouldn’t travel so late without a clear plan, Abby. You’re supposed to be the organized one.”
“Well, it’s a little hard when… Dad!” I snap as his attention drifts again. “Put your phone down.”
“I’m just checking the headlines,” he says, defensively.
God help me. I know if we’re all lucky to live long enough, there’ll come a poignant moment in our lives when the parent-child relationship switches but I didn’t think it would be this early because they’re both behaving like toddlers over a video call.
“There,” Mam says, taking the phone from him. “We’re both here and we’re both listening to our darling, disgraced child.”
“You’re not funny,” I tell her, and she mimes zipping her mouth shut. My mother’s sense of humor. Most people don’t know whether to laugh or feel insulted when they meet her.
As they refocus on me, I glance at my planner, where I wrote the day’s one task in large capital letters. “I have some news. More news. Ty—”
Mam gasps. “You got a new job.”
“I… no.”
“You got an interview.”
“No,” I say. “But I will soon,” I add as her face falls. “No, what I wanted to tell you was that unfortunately Tyler and I—”
“You do look a little pale,” Dad interrupts.
“It’s probably the stress,” Mam says to him. “Julie Connolly’s son signed off work from stress. Though if you ask me—”
“We broke up!”
I sit back, waiting for the onslaught. But Dad only frowns.
“The signal’s just fine,” he says. “We had new Wi-Fi installed the other—”
Mam places a hand on his knee, silencing him.
“I mean Tyler and I aren’t together anymore,” I explain. “He broke off the engagement.”
Mam’s expression is carefully neutral. “You’re not engaged?”
“We’re not engaged and we’re not living together. I moved out of his apartment. We’re not getting married.”
Dad crosses his arms over his belly and looks at my mother.
