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4
Andie passed the next two weeks in alternating fits and states of grief, anger, panic and betrayal.
Her father had completely moved out—his clothes and books, the plaques in his office, his golf clubs and tennis racket. Her mother had taken down every family picture in which he was included, she had emptied the pantry and refrigerator of the foods he and nobody else ate—the whole-grain cereal and Fig Newtons, his beer, the sprouted wheat bread and spicy brown mustard—not just throwing them out, but opening and emptying each one, then smashing the box or breaking the bottle.
Within days it had been as if he had never lived there at all.
Except in Andie’s memory. And in her heart. Andie had never realized the effect one person could have on a place, but her father had had a profound one on their home. The house was changed, it seemed empty now. Quieter. Sad. Even the smell had changed.
Her house didn’t feel like home anymore.
Even though she saw him on weekends, even though she knew he was trying to make up to her and her brothers, it wasn’t the same. She missed him being around. She missed the family—and the father—she’d thought she had. And, as angry as she was at him, as hurt, she still longed for him. She still longed to hear his deep voice call out that he was home at the end of the day, longed to hear the rumble of his laughter while he wrestled with her brothers, longed for the reassurance just knowing he was there had given her. A reassurance she hadn’t even realized she’d felt until now, until it was gone. She felt as if his leaving had ripped a huge hole in her life, leaving an empty place that ached so bad she sometimes couldn’t breathe.
Danny and Pete felt it, too. Either they were even louder and naughtier than usual or unnaturally subdued. Her mother hardly got out of bed. She was listless, uninterested in her children, friends, food or any of the other activities she used to throw herself into with such energy.
Andie had lost her father and her mother.
Andie did everything she could to help, to make her mother’s life easier. She never mentioned her dad, never expressed her own feelings of fear or despair. She helped with the house and the cooking and her brothers.
Raven and Julie had pitched in. They’d baked cookies, made beds and run the vacuum for her, they’d run to the grocery whenever Andie needed bread, milk or peanut butter. They were her constants, her anchors. With them she still laughed, with them she shared all her feelings, good and bad.
For the first time Andie understood the devastation Raven must have experienced when her mother left, for the first time she truly understood Raven’s fierce loyalty to their friendship.
Raven and Julie truly were her family now.
“Andie? Andie, are you okay?”
Andie blinked, realizing Raven was speaking to her. She moved her gaze between her two friends. They were sitting on Raven’s bed, listening to music and eating chips; both were staring at her, their expressions concerned. Andie averted her eyes, shocked at the tears that sprang to them, shocked that after two weeks just thinking of her father could still make her cry.
She forced herself to meet her friends’ gazes. “Mom and I … yesterday we went downtown to look for new … sheets for her bed. She doesn’t want to … sleep on the old ones.”
“I can dig that,” Julie said, shuddering. “I wouldn’t want to, either. It’d be too sad.”
“The thing is,” Andie continued, “we were in the car, at the stoplight by the McDonald’s, and I … we—” Her throat closed over the words, and she cleared it. She clasped her hands together. “He was in the car next to us. With her.”
The other girls squealed with disbelief. “No way!”
“They were … she was … right on top of him. You know, kissing him and—”
Andie bit the words back, unable to go on. She brought her hands to her eyes, wishing she could block out the image of her father and the other woman. “He’s not supposed to be kissing anybody but my mom. It’s not right.”
“It’s disgusting!” Julie sat up, indignant. “I still can’t believe your dad’s doing this. I just can’t.”
Andie dropped her hands and looked at her friends. “Mom saw them, too. She got hysterical. That was yesterday, and she hasn’t come out of her room yet. I called Grandma. She came to help us.”
“It’s that Barbie doll’s fault,” Raven said suddenly, narrowing her eyes. “She stole your dad.”
“I hate her,” Andie said. “I wish she was dead.”
Raven moved her gaze between the other two. “She’s a lying, husband-stealing little bitch and she should be punished. We have to come up with a plan.”
Julie leaned forward. “Punished? Like how?”
Andie made a sound of frustration. “Get real, Rave. As much as I like to fantasize about frying the little slut in hot oil, the fact is, my dad left my mom. He left me and my brothers. She couldn’t have done it without his cooperation.”
Raven shook her head. “She stole him. These things don’t just happen, Andie. She set out to get your dad … and she did.”
Andie thought of the times she, either alone or with her mother and brothers, had stopped by her dad’s office. She pictured Leeza’s short dresses and tight tops, pictured the way she had hovered around her father, as if trying to keep them from seeing him. As if she were his wife and Andie’s mom the interloper. Andie remembered being uncomfortable with the way the other woman had looked up at her dad from under her dark lashes, the way she had every so often touched his arm, so lightly it was like a caress.
Andie’s blood boiled. Raven was right. Leeza had set out to steal her father. “How do we get her?”
“We could roll her house?” Julie offered, reaching for a handful of chips from the bag between them on the bed. “Or egg it?”
“Worse,” Raven said.
“Like what?”
Raven smiled. “We could hit her over the head and bury her in the backyard.”
Julie nearly choked on her chips, and Andie slapped her on the back while rolling her eyes at Raven. “Very funny.”
“It was just a thought.” She propped her chin on her fist. “I’m going to have to think about this.”
“Wait a minute.” Julie reached for another bunch of chips, turning her gaze to Andie. “Doesn’t she have some fancy little sports car?”
Andie thought of the way she had once admired the car and of the way she had wished her dad would get one just like it. Now, no doubt, he could drive it anytime he wanted. Hatred burned in the pit of her gut. “Yeah. A bright red Fiat. She leaves the top down all the time, except when it’s raining. She thinks she’s so cool.”
“Do you know where she parks it?”
“Oh, yeah. At my father’s office building. Around back, in the shade from that row of trees.”
Julie giggled and clapped her hands together. “I say we key it. Or let the air out of her tires.”
“Let’s not be hasty,” Raven murmured. “We want to do something that’ll really hurt her. At the very least, scare the crap out of her. I mean, she stole Andie’s dad. That’s a lot to be punished for, and a paint job can be repaired.”
“Let’s just drop it,” Andie said, her stomach beginning to hurt. “We’re not really going to do anything, and just talking about her—” She sucked in a quick breath. “Let’s talk about something else. Okay?”
So