Chapter 84

Becki calls me at work the next day. She’s sobbing so loudly on the phone that I can barely understand her – she’s borderline incoherent. I swallow my impatience as best I can while I try to get some sense out of her.

Why she is calling me, I have no idea. I don’t know where she got this idea that we’re such great friends. I mean, sure, I’ve had a couple of lunches with her, but come on. She hardly knows me – well, as far as she’s aware, anyway.

Still, I do my best to remain patient with her, mainly because I’m nosy as hell and want to know what’s going on with my family. I haven’t forgotten how they treated me, and I still want to get my own back.

Apparently, I’m doing a good job, because when Becki finally stops sobbing long enough for me to piece together what she’s blubbering about, I discover that my father and Darlene are getting a divorce.

“What happened?” I ask when I hear this, trying my best to sound sympathetic instead of delighted, which is how I really feel.

“Well, apparently my ho of a mother has been having a goddamn affair with Mr. Robinson – Charles’s father, you know,” Becki wails down the line. I bite back a laugh; did Becki really just use the word “ho?” I honestly didn’t think anyone said that anymore.

“So, now she’s leaving your stepdad for Mr. Robinson?” I ask, even though I obviously know that isn’t the case. Mr. Robinson is too busy cuddling up to his new wealthy widow. Darlene is useless to him.

“No!” Becki shouts through a fresh wave of tears. “That’s the worst part. I guess Mr. Robinson left her for some high society lady, and she caused this big scene in a bar and it got back to Paul. Now he’s serving her with divorce papers! He’s already moved out to a hotel!”

“I’m so sorry,” I say, though of course I’m nothing of the sort. “That must be so difficult. Family is so important, and it sounds like he was basically a father to you.”

“Screw family!” Becki shrieks. “He’s cutting off my allowance! He says he’ll always love me, but that my spending has gotten out of control, and that I need to learn to grow up and take responsibility for myself. That Mom coddles me too much.”

“Oh,” I say, now really fighting back laughter. I’m not sure exactly what to say to this. It is so predictably Becki, though. All she’s ever cared about is herself, and I’ve never really expected that to change. Looks like it hasn’t.

“Oh?” Becki says, sounding like she’s on the verge of hysteria. “Is that really all you can say, Evelyn? Oh?!”

“I’m sorry,” I say, taking a deep breath and trying to get myself under control. The familiarity Becki is showing with me is, frankly, as ridiculous as it is funny. She has no filter whatsoever. She collects people like accessories and expects them to perform for and around her.

It’s my childhood all over again, only this time, I have the upper hand. I’m the one who is winning at this little game of life, at least right now. It’s a good feeling. My “family” is getting some of the comeuppance that they’ve had coming to them, at long last.

I almost feel a spark of admiration for my father in all this, too. Operative word being “almost,” because I don’t think I can ever truly admire that man after what he’s put me through. But I’m kind of amazed to see him getting some kind of backbone. Darlene has been walking all over him for years.

“Hello? Earth to Evelyn, are you still there?” Becki is whining.

“Yes, I’m still here. I wish I could help you, Becki, but I don’t know what I can do. I don’t know your family, so it’s not like I can even talk to them. Plus, if your stepdad has already moved out, it sounds like there might not be much left to save.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Becki snaps. “There has to be some kind of way to get them to pull their shit together. People don’t just randomly divorce over innocent little affairs, not in our set of people.”

Irritation flashes through me. “Our set” of people indeed. God, she is so full of herself.

“What are you going to do if you can’t get your allowance back?” I ask instead of responding to that one, changing the subject.

“Well, first of all, I am going to get my allowance back, thank you,” Becki says. I recognize this stage of her temper tantrum: she’s done screaming and sobbing (for now) and is kicking into scheming mode. I really will be curious to see how she tries to pull herself out of this one.

“Good,” I say. “You get it. I know you’re a resourceful woman, after all.”

“I am,” Becki says, sounding marginally mollified. “And second of all, I’m going to go talk to my mother. Tell her that she created this mess for all of us, so she’d damn well better figure out how to fix it.”

“Let me know how it goes,” I suggest.

“I will. Talk later.” She hangs up.

I toss my phone back down on my desk harder than is necessary. She’s insufferable.

Still, to be a fly on the wall for the conversation she’s about to have with Darlene…

Becki tosses her phone on her bed and stomps to her bedroom door. The screaming and crying that had lit up the house when Paul came back for another suitcase and informed Darlene that she’d be getting divorce papers soon has abated somewhat, so it’s probably safe to emerge.

Time to knock some sense into these two old idiots, Becki thinks to herself. Families don’t just break up like this, not over something as stupid as an affair. What was her mother thinking? What is Paul thinking?

They’re not only all going to be the laughingstock of the city, they’re all going to be broke. Becki most of all. She’s very aware that her mother’s trust fund ran out ages ago, and that she herself has already burned through a fair portion of her own.

They need Paul. More specifically, they need his money.

Becki creeps down the hallway, trying to figure out where each of her parents is lurking in the house. She didn’t hear Paul leave, so he must be here somewhere. She tries the living room and their bedroom but comes up empty.

Hmm. Maybe time to check a more unlikely spot. Like the kitchen.

Sure enough, her mother is standing at the kitchen counter, viciously struggling with the cork in a wine bottle. Paul is sitting at the table, scowling at his hands where they’re folded in front of him. The maids and cook are nowhere to be found.

“Mom? Paul?” Becki says. Neither of them look up.

“Look, you guys,” Becki says, trying to sound matter of fact. “This is ridiculous. I know you two love each other. This is just a little blip. All you need to do is sit down and talk it out, and –“

“Becki,” Paul says in this eerie, quiet voice she’s never heard before. “Shut up.”

Becki gasps as Darlene whirls around. “Don’t talk to my daughter that way, asshole.”

“I should have told her to shut up years ago,” Paul replies. “She’s a spoiled brat. She doesn’t care about our marriage, or me. She just cares that I’m cutting off the gravy train. I’ve betrayed my only real family – my daughter – for a group of people who have never cared about me beyond my wallet.

“Well, Becki,” he continues, standing up and adjusting his tie. “That’s just too goddamn bad. You’ve made your beds, and now you can lie in them. I’m done here.”

Becki gapes at him as he walks out of the kitchen. A few moments later, she hears the front door slam.

Well, shit.

Now what?