"I guess I didn't think about it because there weren't any boys around."

"Oh, my," Maisie commented. "Aren't you a woman of the world!"

"Can we conference Susan in?" I asked Maisie.

"No," she replied. "Her parents don't let her use the phone."

"They don't let her use the phone at all?"

"No. She's never called me, and I only called her once. And that was a mistake!"

"Why was it a mistake?"

"Well, one time there was this party at school... it was a school thing, so her parents were going to let her go. I couldn't remember what time the party started, so I called Susan to ask her."

"And?"

"And she was grounded!"

"What!?"

"She couldn't go to the party."

"Because you called her?"

"Yes! Isn't that crazy? I guess they figured we were planning something bad. I don't know."

"Wow!"

"Yes, it's very wow. I felt like a jerk when I found out. So never, never call her."

"That makes absolutely no sense!"

"I told you: her family is super strict. So, what were you telling me?"

I'd almost completely forgotten! With all Maisie's interruptions... What did I want to tell Maisie? "Oh, right! When my mother and I were walking home from school–"

"Wait! Your mother walked you home from school!?" Maisie giggled. "Did she make you hold her hand when you crossed the street?"

"Oh, uh," I fumbled. The wrongness of my mother coming hadn't hit me until then. It *did* sound as if I was in third grade. "I guess I didn't think about it because there weren't any boys around."

"Oh, my," Maisie commented. "Aren't you a woman of the world!"

"ANYWAY," I continued, trying to get back to the point, "she was all gushing about Honororia, and wanted to know everything about my day–"

"Everything!? You didn't tell her everything did you? You didn't tell her anything about *me*, did you?"

Oh, lord! Maisie was so paranoid! "No, just harmless stuff. Nothing about you."

"Good! Be careful! Remember: anything you say to your mom will get repeated to mine. And I don't want mine to know anything. I wish she didn't need to know where I live."

"I get it," I said. "Don't worry. I won't even tell her I know you! ANYWAY–"

"Quit saying 'anyway', Marcie. Just tell the story."

"Okay! The thing is, I realized that she's reliving her high school years through me."

"Who?"

"My mother!"

"Oh, yuck!"

"I thought it was kind of cute. I mean, a little weird, and maybe a little creepy, but cute."

Maisie was silent for a few moments. Then she said, "I tend to forget that all mothers aren't like mine."

"Yeah, sorry."

"It's okay."

The conversation was exhausting and a little frustrating. It was so much work! All those distractions and detours! The only thing I wanted to tell her about was Mom's vicarious second childhood. I'd never seen my mother so excited and happy... I just wanted to talk about it with somebody my age.

In retrospect I could see how it would creep Maisie out. It was a little strange to me, too, but I guess that's what mothers do. Maybe it was behind her wanting to decorate my bedroom, too.

Maisie asked some questions about my dress-code punishment back in Tierson. She wanted to know how many days of detention I had, and did I think I was fated for detention and so on. I answered her questions — with many interruptions on her part.

After I hung up, I went to the kitchen. My feet were dragging. The call had worn me out!

Mom had just finished getting dinner ready, so I set the table while she put some things in the sink. Dad wasn't home yet.

"Mom?"

"Yes?"

"I was just on the phone with Maisie... Do girls always interrupt each other when they talk?"

She laughed. "Maybe you don't notice..."

"Oh, I do not!"

Mom put one index finger on the end of her nose and pointed at me with the other, laughing.

"No!"

"You just interrupted me, Marcie! You do it all the time! Ask your father if you don't believe me!"

"I never!" I protested. "There is no way I interrupt like Maisie does! You never heard her!"

"I hear you two in the car in the morning. Neither of you ever finish a sentence."

"No, that's you and Ida," I countered.

"Oh, Marcie," she began, but her smile burst into a laugh.

I scoffed, but she kept on laughing. I wasn't really offended, but I was a little miffed.

I turned my back to her, but she came over and hugged me from behind. I shook my shoulders as a gentle hint for her to get off me.

"You know, you're a lot more fun as a girl," she teased. She started playing with my hair, so I shook my head and walked to the cabinet where the glasses were.

In the midst of my irritation, I had a sudden thought: Mom was in a good mood, so it seemed like a good time to ask my big question. I gave it a shot: "Mom, do you and Dad ever talk about my getting... the operation?"

"Yes, we do. You do want to get it, don't you?"

"I wish I could get it tomorrow!" I declared. Her eyebrows went up.

"I'm glad you're so sure," she said cautiously, "but there are a couple of things to consider..."

"Like?"

"See? You interrupted me again."

"Mom!" I groaned.

"ANYWAY," she said (in exactly the same way as I said it to Maisie), "it's an operation, so you'll need four to six weeks to recover. That means it has to happen in the summer. You can't miss that much school."

"Oh," I said in a small voice.

"AND, you're supposed to wait until you're eighteen. I've spent a lot of time talking to Mr. Marks about this–"

"You have?"

She nodded. "You've gone so far, we thought it might to be possible to make it happen sooner..."

"Do you think it could happen next summer?"

She went white before she said, "We'll see," in a quiet tone, so I figured I ought to drop the subject for now. I guess she could handle the idea of it, but not as an imminent reality.

I turned back to the glasses, and after what I thought was a discrete pause, told her about Mrs. Wix reading the Yeats poem. It was just about the only thing that happened at school that I hadn't already told her.

She didn't say anything, so I snuck a look at her. Changing the subject didn't seem to be working, because she still looked a little freaked.

Just then my cell phone rang. I ran into the bedroom to get it. It was Trevor Means!

"Of course I remember you," I said, smiling, "And no, you're not interrupting dinner."

"Ah, that's good, at least," he said.

He sounded even sexier on the phone than he had in person, but he didn't sound happy at all.

After I put the phone down, Dad arrived, and a few minutes later the three of us were sitting around the table.

"I have some news," I announced. "Bad news for me, but good news for you."

Mom turned to look at me, and Dad raised his eyebrows.

"Trevor Means called to say that he can't go out with me."

Dad frowned and Mom gave me a questioning look.

"Apparently his mother noted his interest in me," I said, echoing Trevor's words, "and she told him that if he was dating the daughter of one of her employees, it could create complications in the workplace."

"Ah," Dad said in a careful tone.

"You don't have to pretend you're not glad," I told them both. To tell the truth, I wasn't all that upset — I was disappointed, yes — but I felt like pouting a little.

"I'm not glad," Dad told me. "Relieved is more the word. At the same time, I'm sorry for you."

"I'm not glad either," Mom said. "It's just that your life is so complicated... and a boyfriend just–"

"I know, I know," I said, a little testily.

"Oh, that reminds me," Mom said, smiling a little. "Marcie asked me whether girls interrupt a lot."

Dad chuckled, so I rolled my eyes dramatically.

© 2007 Kaleigh Way