The landline rang. We both flinched. It rang again, and again, and again.
My mother’s gaze moved from the phone to my face. I shook my head. I had no answering machine for the dorm phone. But anyone normal would have given up by now. Nine rings. Ten rings. It was Jimmy. He would let it ring all day.
She looked at the phone. She looked back at me.
“Things have gotten a little crazy,” I said.
She leaned forward a little, squinting. The phone was still ringing.
“I’ve done some pretty stupid things lately. I’ve gotten myself into a mess.”
She nodded. Her eyes moved to the phone. The ringing seemed to be getting louder. I put my hand over my eyes. “It’s the guy whose car I wrecked. That was his town house I stayed in. He’s mad because I had a party, after I wrecked his car. He wants rides all the time, and he doesn’t care that I don’t have a car. He wants a ride back from campus right now.”
“Oh.” My mother cocked her head. “Well. Do you want me to answer?” She did not give me a chance to reply. Her hand moved quickly to the phone.
“Hello?”
Apparently, while waiting in the rain, Jimmy had lost his ability to stay calm. I could hear him through the earpiece, though I was sitting several feet away. Some words were clearer than others: “bitch,” “better,” “NOW.” I watched my mother’s eyebrows move up, up, up, her eyes growing wider beneath them. She looked at me. She again appeared to be waiting for something, some critical word from me.
“I don’t know,” I said. “I don’t know what to do anymore.”
She rubbed her lips together, looking back at the phone with narrowed eyes. She moved her fingers down one of the braids to the pink ribbon Marley had wrapped around the end. One of her eyebrows lowered, and the other stayed high, deep lines appearing across her forehead. She put her hand on my shoulder. “Yes,” she said into the phone. “I think I do understand. As a matter of fact, I do.”
I couldn’t believe he thought she was me. Her voice was lower. She sounded older, at least to me.
“No problem,” she said. “Just wait there. We’re on our way.”
12
“THIS PERSON HAS MY PHONE? Why does he have my phone?”
We were in the van. Wet dog smell hung heavy in the air, but it was raining too hard to roll down a window. Bowzer rode between my mother and the steering wheel, his front paws resting on her right arm. He was panting, but he held his balance fairly well, gazing out the blurry windshield and occasionally barking at nothing.
“Turn here,” I said. “Left.” Jimmy had told my mother/me to pick him and Simone up at the Union, where they would be angrily waiting and staying dry. I was to call when we got very, very close to the doors. He hadn’t said whether I should call his number or my mother’s. I assumed he had both phones with him.
“You must have left it there when you helped me clean,” I said, wiping mist off the side window. She was driving carefully, slowly, the pavement slick beneath the tires. But really, any speed at all would have been too fast for me. I wanted to just stop or, even better, turn around. I did not think that what was about to happen would be a good thing. I did not think my mother understood the situation. I did not think she had adequately imagined Jimmy Liff. I knew I should be grateful that she wanted to help me. But I couldn’t help but think that between my two parents, my father would be much more helpful in dealing with someone like Jimmy. My mother, well meaning as she was, was just an older, worn down, and temporarily homeless version of me.
“And he’s not giving it back?” Her voice was calm, an adult extracting the facts of a story from a wounded child. He meant to break your pink pony? You’re sure it was on purpose? Did you see him do it? She still had both of the braids in, the ends sticking up from under her hat. Her scarf was still stained with ketchup.
“He keeps saying he doesn’t know where it is. He’s mad, Mom. He’s mad about the car. He’s mad about the party. I don’t know if you can just ask for your phone back. Honestly, I