She nods slowly. She looks down. “He said I shouldn’t be looking through Sunshine’s things,” she says. “I tried to tell him she left it sitting out in my bathroom, but he didn’t believe me. He thought I was, like, going through her purse or something.”
“I see,” I say tightly. I take a deep breath. “Okay. Well, first of all, honey, your father has obviously lost his mind. There’s no reason in the world to put anyone ahead of your child. And particularly not a bitch named Sunshine.”
Annie looks shocked. “You just called her a bitch?”
“I just called her a bitch,” I confirm. “Because she obviously is one. And I will have a talk with your father about this. I know this is hard for you to understand, but this isn’t about you. This is about your father being insecure and foolish. Six months from now, I guarantee you, Sunshine isn’t going to be in the picture anymore. Your dad’s interests are fleeting, trust me. But in the meantime, there’s no excuse for him treating you this way, or letting some bimbo treat you this way. And I’m going to take care of it. Okay?”
Annie stares at me, as if she’s not sure whether to believe me or not. “Okay,” she says finally. “You’re really going to talk to him?”
“Yes,” I say. “But what’s with blaming everything on me, Annie? That’s got to stop. I know you’re upset. But I’m not your punching bag.”
“I know,” she mutters.
“And the divorce wasn’t my fault,” I say. “Your dad and I just fell out of love. It was pretty equal. Okay?” Actually, it didn’t feel equal at all. It felt like I’d been used as a doormat for a decade, and I’d finally realized it and decided to stand up for myself. And it turned out that the person walking all over me hadn’t particularly liked it when his doormat developed some self-respect. But Annie doesn’t need to know all that. I want her to keep loving her father, even if I don’t anymore.
“That’s not what Dad says,” Annie mutters, looking down. “Dad and Sunshine.”
I shake my head in disbelief. “And what is it that Dad and Sunshine say?”
“Just that you changed,” she says. “And that you weren’t the same person anymore. And that when you changed, you stopped loving Dad.”
Of course her father’s right in a way; I did change. But that still doesn’t mean the divorce is my fault. But I don’t say any of this to Annie. Instead, I just say, “Yeah, well, believing a couple of idiots is pretty idiotic, don’t you think?”
She laughs. “Yeah.”
“Fine,” I say. “I’ll talk to your dad. I’m sorry that he and his girlfriend are hurting you. And I’m sorry you’re upset about Mamie right now. But Annie, none of those things give you the right to say hateful things to me.”
“Sorry,” she mumbles.
“I know,” I say. I take a deep breath. I hate being the bad guy, especially when she’s getting it from all sides, but as her mom, I also can’t let that kind of behavior stand. “Kiddo, I’m afraid you’re grounded for the next two days. No phone either.”
“You’re grounding me?” She’s incredulous.
“You know better than to talk to me like that,” I say, “or to take things out on me. The next time you’re upset about something, just come talk to me, Annie. I’ve always been here for you.”
“I know.” She pauses and looks at me in anguish. “Wait, does this mean I can’t call any more Levys?”
“Not for the next two days,” I say. “You can start again Tuesday afternoon.”
Her jaw drops. “You are so mean,” she says.
“So I’ve heard,” I say.
She glares at me. “I hate you!” she tells me.
I sigh. “Yeah, and you’re a real peach too,” I reply. “Go to your room. I’m going to go have a talk with your dad.”
As I pull up to the house I used to live in, the first thing I notice is that the pink salt spray roses in the front garden, the ones that I carefully and lovingly tended for eight years, are gone. All of them. They were here just weeks ago when I was here last.
The second thing I notice is that there’s a woman in the garden wearing a pink bikini top and denim cutoff shorts, despite the fact that it can’t be more than fifty-five degrees out. She’s at least a decade younger than I am, and her long, blonde hair is gathered into a high ponytail that looks like it should be giving her a massive headache. I hope it’s giving her a headache. I can only assume that she’s Sunshine, recent torturer of my daughter. I suddenly want, more than anything in the world, to gun the engine and flatten her against the soil. Thankfully, I am not actually a murderess, so I refrain. But at the very least, I sure would like to pull her perky ponytail until she screams.