IT WAS JUST MY LUCK THAT MY MOTHER WAS WALKING into
the room as Dante’s sketch pad hit the wall.
“You want to tell me what that was about?” I shook my head.
My mother picked up the sketch pad. She sat down. She was going to open it.
“Don’t do that,” I said “What?”
“Don’t look at it.” “Why?”
“Dante doesn’t like people to look at his sketches.” “Only you?”
“I guess so.”
“Then why’d you throw it across the room?” “I don’t know.”
“I know you don’t want to talk about this, Ari, but I think—”
“I don’t want to know what you think, Mom. I just don’t want to talk.” “It’s not good for you to keep everything inside. I know this is hard. And
the next two or three months or so are going to be very difficult. Keeping everything bottled up inside you isn’t going to help you heal.”
“Well, maybe you’ll have to take me to see some counselor and have me talk about my difficulties.”
“I know sarcasm when I hear it. And I don’t think a counselor would be such a bad idea.”
“You and Mrs. Quintana making backroom deals?” “You’re a wise guy.”
I closed my eyes and opened them. “I’ll make a deal with you, Mom.” I could almost taste the anger on my tongue. I swear. “You talk about my brother and I’ll talk about what I feel.”
I saw the look on her face. She looked surprised and hurt. And angry. “Your brother has nothing to do with any of this.”
“You think you and Dad are the only ones who can keep things on the inside? Dad keeps a whole war inside of him. I can keep things on the
inside too.”
“One thing has nothing to do with the other.”
“That’s not how I see it. You go to a counselor. Dad goes to a counselor.
And maybe after that, I’ll go to a counselor.” “I’m going to have a cup of coffee,” she said.
“Take your time.” I closed my eyes. I guess that was going to be my new thing. I couldn’t exactly storm away in anger. I’d just have to close my eyes and shut out the universe.
