There she was, Amy Gerstein, over by the pool, kissing my father
AMY what an Amy. Dark curls. I'm thinking of Amy.... the actor named Amy who was in Crossing Delancey? She's named Amy, right? I guess Amy Poehler is another Amy... wait, is she? The more you say Amy, the less sure I am that anyone's named Amy. Even my friend, Amy Schumacher seems like maybe it's impossible that she's actually named Amy. Maybe aMybe...
My mind races with the possibilities of having an Amy as a step-mother. It also races with the possibility that my father would be at the pool. On one of my weekends with Mom, no less. He knows we go to the pool. Does he want Mom to see? Is this all some sort of ploy to make Mom jealous so they get back together? That's how it works in the movies. but I already know that movie logic isn't real world stuff. Like, kids don't get to force their parents back together, and, honestly, it's not like every kid of divorced parents WANTS their folks to get back together. It's much more nuanced than that. I want Dad to be happy. I want Mom to be happy. I want to BE happy and safe. So, I pretend I don't see, and it'll work itself out. NO. That's not happy. I guess...
"Hey Dad."
Dad smiles. "Hey kiddo. You know Amy, right?"
I roll my eyes. "Of course I do. Hi Ms. Gerstein."
"Hello Jessica."
"So, you're kissing now?"
On the following Friday, We packed our bags and planned our escape.
Amy, I call her Amy now, wants me to call her Amy. She's decided that the classroom volunteer/child relationship is just a bit too formal for a single-parent-dating-partner. It's cool. It's just not, like, necessary. I have to learn a whole new name for her. Now it's Dad's weekend, and we're going camping. I wonder if I'll see Mom kissing Mr. Campobasso at the campgrounds. My worlds are colliding. Everything is topsy-turvy, and I think if I saw Mom and Mr. Campobasso, I would just give up on things making sense. Amy makes sense. She's Dad's height, and they both like the Lakers a lot. He also acts goofy a lot, and that's what Amy does, too. Of course, that's what Mom does, too, so clearly that's not a solid foundation to build a relationship on. Mr. Campobasso is also goofy. Hang on. Maybe all adults are goofy. Mental checklist time.
Amy Gerstein: Goofy? Check
Dad: Goofy? Check
Mom: Goofy? Check
Mr. Campobasso: Goofy? Check
Cashier at Food4Less: Goofy? Check
Doug "The Stone" Jackson: Goofy? Check
Well, all the adults that I can think of off the top of my head are goofy, so that checks out. I wonder why people say adulthood is boring.
The stain on the wall grew 15 inches last night. I think Amy's house has a water leak. I went to sleep on the couch at 9pm, and the stain, was, like, barely visible. Now it's huge. And I mean it grew in radius, so its diameter, is, what, like 32 inches now? It's big. And it's right over my face. I feel like it's probably going to start dripping on me any second now.
I haven't heard a peep from them since they put me to bed last night. Amy even kissed my forehead. Like, I guess that's ok, but it's rather forward, you know? And I'm not opposed to Amy being my stepmom, but I still am unsure that calling her Amy is the best choice. "Mom" is clearly not the best choice either. But.... well. Anyways, they're quiet. I thought for sure I'd at least hear the TV or maybe them laughing at each other's goofiness. Or moving furniture. I'm not a dope. That's a euphemism. The point is, silent. As silent as candles burning. You like that? I like that. Candles, for the most part, burn silently, you know?
For: @mariannewest/day-17-the-weekend-freewrite-the-first-sentence