Читать книгу Adios To All The Drama - Diana Rodriguez Wallach - Страница 8

Madison’s Audi wove through the narrow city streets. If she moved even an inch to the right, her car would swipe the side-view mirrors of every parked vehicle on the block.

“This can’t possibly be a two-lane street,” I said from my seat in shotgun.

With all of Emily’s family woes, she didn’t have much energy to extend to keeping her permanent spot in Madison’s passenger seat. We now rotated the position on a regular basis.

“My dad said that all the streets in Philly have two lanes.”

Madison’s eyes were intently focused on keeping the car straight. She rolled to a stop at a red light, and sure enough, a white cab pulled up to our left, squeezing just a few inches shy of her door. We were so close that, had we wanted, we could have held a conversation with the passenger in the backseat.

“I told you,” Madison mocked.

“Hey, this is normal to me,” Lilly added. She was seated beside Emily. “Mariana, you’ve seen how people drive in Puerto Rico.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me.” I flinched, my nose scrunched. “When our cousin Alonzo picked us up at the airport, he sped up this dirt road so fast through the mountains that our tires scraped the cliff. I thought I was gonna die.”

“Yeah, well, if I don’t pay attention, we’re gonna die.”

Alex was arriving tomorrow, and as a welcome gift, my friends and I were putting together a basket of Philadelphia staples. We were collecting a miniature Liberty Bell, a replica of the Declaration of Independence, postcards from the Constitution Center, a flag from the Betsy Ross House, soft pretzels from sidewalk vendors, water ice from South Philly, and rival cheesesteaks from both Pat’s and Geno’s famous establishments. My parents swore they’d keep everything preserved until tomorrow night.

“Why don’t you guys just run in?” Madison asked as she rolled to a stop.

Lilly and I yanked our door handles and piled out in front of the modern white museum. We darted toward the glass doors of the Constitution Center. An exhibit on the history of baseball was showing inside.

“What do sports have to do with the Constitution?” Lilly asked, staring at a cutout of Babe Ruth.

“I can guarantee you that many Americans know the history of the Yankees and the Red Sox better than they do the Redcoats and the Colonies.”

We rushed toward the gift shop. I immediately began swiveling a metal stand of postcards while Lilly swiveled another.

“You know, I could be mildly offended that Alex is getting this big welcome extravaganza when I got nada,” Lilly huffed as she plucked a photo of Boathouse Row and showed it to me.

“That was different. We all flew in together. What, did you expect Tootsie to put together a grand entrance for you? He can barely roll over for a dog treat.” I snatched an image of the Art Museum “Rocky” steps from the display.

“Still, it would’ve been nice.”

“Well, I’ll tell Tootsie to get his act together.”

I gathered the cards Lilly was holding and spun toward the register. As soon as I reached the cashier, I was stopped by a sight outside of the shop. There, in the atrium of the museum, was Emily’s mom. And she wasn’t alone.

“Holy shit,” I muttered.

The middle-aged sales clerk shot me an angry look.

“No, not you. Sorry.” I swatted anxiously at Lilly, pointing. “Look at that.”

“Is that Bobby’s dad?” Lilly’s expression looked horrified.

“Not unless he got major plastic surgery.”

Emily’s mom rested her hand against the man’s chest and laughed, tossing her head back. She looked like she was having a wonderful Wednesday evening, carefree and happy, while her daughter hadn’t slept in weeks. The man in the black suit and red tie reached his lips toward Mrs. Montgomery’s ear and whispered.

“You know, I can see her four-karat diamond ring from here. She’s not even trying to hide it,” I spat.

“I take it that’s not Emily’s dad either.”

“Uh, no.”

I watched Mrs. Montgomery link arms with the man and casually stroll toward the exhibit. She had no idea her daughter was sitting in a car out front.

I slammed the passenger door shut and stared at the dashboard.

“Did you get what you needed?” Madison asked as she checked her mirrors and prepared to pull away.

I twisted toward Emily in the backseat. Lilly sat beside her silently, glaring out the window as if she wanted nothing to do with what was about to happen. My stomach was already cringing and I hadn’t even opened my mouth.

“Um, Em,” I said cautiously.

She looked at me.

“I saw your mom in there.”

Her eyes reduced to slits. “In the museum?”

“Yeah.”

Emily quickly glanced at the digital clock on the dashboard. It was 6:00 P.M.

“She should be home by now. I didn’t know she was going out.”

I stared at her, sucking the Chap Stick from my lips as I squirmed uncomfortably.

“What aren’t you telling me?”

I looked to Madison, who was eyeing me carefully. She put her flashers back on as if she realized this might take a while.

“Well, she was with…someone.”

“Who?” Emily asked in a deep voice.

“I don’t know.”

“Was it a man?”

“Yes,” I squeaked, my shoulders rising defensively.

Emily sighed and stared out the window. “They could just be friends from the college. He might work in her department. Maybe this is some sort of research…”

“Emily, he was whispering in her ear,” Lilly said bluntly.

“Lil!” I shouted.

“What? It’s true.”

“You didn’t have to say it like that.”

“Well, is there a better way to say it?”

Emily took a deep breath, her green eyes closed. Then she clutched the metal handle and swung the door open into on-coming traffic. A monster SUV nearly made Madison’s new car a three-door.

“Em! What are you doing!” Madison yelled.

She didn’t pause. She stepped into the traffic-clogged street and headed to the museum. I jumped out after her.

“I saw her go into the exhibit,” I said when I caught up.

Emily charged toward the museum entrance and was immediately stopped by a ticket-taker at the exhibit doors. She glared at the employee as I ran to purchase two exhibit passes. Emily didn’t even say thank you when I handed her the tickets, she just chucked them at the employee and charged into the dimly lit hall. I chased after her as she sped through the maze of documents and memorabilia. It didn’t take long for her to spot her mother. It was as if she already knew where to find her.

Mrs. Montgomery was standing in front of a large etched poster that described the room’s artifacts, reading every word like the inquisitive professor she was. The man at her side had his body pressed close to hers.

“So is there anyone in Philadelphia you aren’t sleeping with?” Emily snipped.

I nearly choked on a gulp of air.

Her mom spun around, her mouth wide and her eyes even wider.

“Emily,” she said simply, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose.

“Bobby’s dad wasn’t bad enough? You’re just adding more men to the list? What, do you guys draw numbers?”

The guy coughed awkwardly and stepped back.

“Do not speak to me that way,” her mother warned, moving closer toward her daughter.

Museumgoers around us craned their necks to eavesdrop, while I tried to melt into the background. (If I had the ability to develop a superpower, at that moment I would definitely have made myself invisible.)

“Why shouldn’t I? What, do you think you deserve my respect?” Emily barked.

“I am your mother.”

“And you used to be someone’s wife. Clearly those roles don’t mean much to you.”

“Listen, little girl, think what you want of me, but your father is no saint.”

Her mom glared at her without an ounce of sympathy. She didn’t even look embarrassed. She smoothed her indigo cotton dress over her hips, which flowed casually to her leather boots. She looked more concerned with her hippy-esque appearance than her family.

“Maybe he’s not. But I’d take a workaholic over an adulteress any day.”

“Don’t speak to your mother that way.” The man of the hour stepped forward, resting his hand on Mrs. Montgomery’s shoulder.

“Oh, please! Are you blind to the wedding ring on her finger, or do you not care?” Emily snarled at the two of them, her green eyes flaming with fury.

“You don’t understand,” he started.

“Well, don’t bother explaining.”

“Emily, I am not going to take this behavior from you,” her mother warned.

“Behavior from me!” she shrieked, shaking her head. “You know what, I’ll make it easy for you, Mom. I’m moving out. I wanna live with Dad.”

My palm shot to my mouth as I gasped. Mrs. Montgomery’s apathetic eyes turned toward me as if she’d just realized I was present.

“Fine, go ahead. See if he wants you.”

Her mom’s final words hung in the air. The entire exhibit room had cleared out, thankfully decreasing the audience to catch the tears clinging to my friend’s eyes. I stepped toward her, but she waved me off.

“Well, at least Dad’s not an embarrassment.”

And with that, Emily charged out of the exhibit room. I hurried behind her, past the cases of Americana history, hardly comprehending the spectacle that had unfolded. When we got back to Madison’s car, Emily broke into sobs.

“Take…take me to my dad’s. I-I wanna go home.”