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The Worst Part

Mom is usually home on Sunday but this week she was going to a big golf game and I was all alone in the house. I was mad at Mom for divorcing Dad.

I kept looking at the telephone until I couldn’t stand it any longer. I picked up the receiver and dialed Dad’s number over in Bakersfield. I even remembered to dial I first because it was long distance. “You promised to phone me this week but you didn’t,” I said, feeling I had to talk to him.

“Take it easy, kid,” he said. “I just didn’t get around to it. I was going to call this evening. The week isn’t over yet.”

I thought about that.

“Something on your mind?” he asked.

“I hoped you would call, so I waited and waited.” Then I was sorry I said it.

“There was heavy snow in the morning,” he said, “I had to chain up on highway 80 and lost time.”