A Field Guide for Heartbreakers (13 page)

“Kill the razor. Kill
the blade. Kill the hand
that held them both.
My head is what matters.
My shorn scalp.
I came to Prague a man. A man.
A man. Until he took
my hair. My hair.
My hair. I stand next
to the white toilet. I gaze
into the cold bathroom mirror.
I am so hungry for
what I’ve lost. No, I cannot
forgive. No, I cannot forget.
Under the moon. Under the
stars. Under the canopy
of my ruined life. My bare head
glistens in limitless pain.”
“Wow,” Annie Earl said. “That was very powerful.”“You’re still a man,” Brenda said.“That was really great,” I said.I nudged Veronica again. She kept writing the word
BALD
and drawing frowning faces over Frank’s poem. “Good job, man,” Roger said. He sounded sincere, but I could tell his patience was wearing thin.Tears dripped down Frank’s face and splattered on the floor. I felt really sympathetic toward him. Because even though Corky thought hair didn’t matter, I realized it did. “I need to get out of here,” Frank said.“Do you want company?” Veronica asked, starting to stand.I wasn’t sure if Veronica wanted to help console Frank, or if she was looking for an excuse to ditch class.“No,” he said. “I don’t. I need to go back to bed.”“Frank,” Mrs. Knox said, “if you leave, it’s unlikely that we’ll be able to workshop your dolphin story at a later date. We’ve got a tight schedule.”Frank didn’t say anything. He took his bag, tossed it over his shoulder, and walked out the door.“He’ll be fine,” Roger said. “We’re all still a little hung over.”“Well,” Mrs. Knox said, “I think the alcohol consumption is getting a bit out of control. Could we taper it off for the next couple of weeks to avoid some of this drama? I feel like I’m on
Dynasty
.”“Nobody even knows what
Dynasty
is, Mom,” Veronica said.Mrs. Knox blushed. “Let’s just drop it. And no more substitutions. The material you submitted is the material we workshop.”I thought we all needed to take a break, but Mrs. Knox didn’t give us one. “Annie Earl, shall we proceed with your story?”Annie Earl nodded. “What I’ve brought for you isn’t fiction. ‘Baking & Heartache’ is an essay I wrote about entering a baking contest and subsequently getting a divorce. I plan to write a collection of them that deal with my life and its unlikely trials and unlikelier travails.”“That last sentence would make great jacket copy,” Brenda said.“It would,” Mrs. Knox agreed. “I expect some of you may have read this as a piece of fiction. If so, Annie Earl has asked that you let your comments on the page stand as they are. But for in-class feedback, let’s address the story with sensitivity. Annie Earl has trusted us with something more personal than fiction, and that takes a great deal of courage.”“Thank you,” Annie Earl said. Then she read from her bleached-flour scene.
“My fat was liquefying. I’d taken precautions against this, but as temperatures rise, there’s always a risk. The clock on the wall ticked down the minutes. The seconds. Over my shoulder, other women worked their rolling pins with confidence. I pulled my warm hands from the dough. My own heat might be partly to blame. Things felt too sticky, but I didn’t want to add more flour—I needed a flaky crust. I slipped off my long-sleeved shirt. Underneath I wore a T-shirt. Now they were going to see my arms. This would be on television. No more hiding. Let them look at my scars and wonder. I pulled my lard from the refrigerator and started over. I deserved to be here. All my life I’d been waiting to take home the prize.”
After Annie Earl read, nobody spoke for a minute. Then Brenda commented. “Your narrator, I mean,
you
really allow yourself to be vulnerable. It makes me care about you. I think that’s really powerful.”“Yeah,” Roger said. “This is one of the most suspenseful stories I’ve ever read. I felt everything that was at stake for you.” Mrs. Knox cleared her throat. “When a writer takes an emotional risk, it can be a vastly rewarding experience for the reader—but only if it’s an honest risk. The controlled, frank narration of this story’s opening scenes gave me that reassurance that what I was reading was a search for meaning, not a plea for sympathy or admiration. Annie Earl doesn’t sensationalize
anything
, and because of that, each revelation brought me to surprising emotional places.”“I felt that,” Kite said. “I like pies, but I could care less about baking. But this piece put me in the middle of a kitchen. The scene was written so well that I could feel the heat coming off the stove. And it was hot!”Everyone seemed to like Annie Earl’s essay. It made me happy because it would have been painful to hear people criticize it. The things she’d written about were moments taken from her actual life.I glanced at Veronica, who was staring at Frank’s bald poem again. “You’ll bounce back,” I whispered.“I don’t want to bounce back,” she whined. “I want Frank to have hair.” She jabbed her pen at the poem, making holes in the paper.“I like your cliff-hanger ending,” Corky said. “Closing on the announcement that you’re getting a third divorce implies there’s so much more heartache around the bend. And you are a very believable wounded person.” I was still too shy to comment. I took notes while everybody else discussed what details they wanted more of in the essay. Like tactile sensations and dialogue and flashbacks. When class finally ended, I was totally ready to go.“Waller will either be e-mailing you his story or delivering it directly to your room. Corky, do you have yours?”Corky nodded and passed around a stack of papers.“And for an assignment,” Mrs. Knox said, “following up on Annie Earl’s piece, I want you to think about place. I want you to pick one place where you have lived, and I want you to write a page of description about that place. List everything about it. I want you to engage all five senses: sight, sound, touch, smell, and taste. I want you to picture this place and recover it to the best of your ability.” We all filed out while Mrs. Knox pulled aside Roger and Kite.“Go! Go!” Veronica whispered to me. I threw all my stuff into my bag and followed her out the door. “This way!” she yelled.I reluctantly followed Veronica into a small, ancient AV room. Clunky VCRs cluttered the room’s lone worktable.“At this point, do you really think we can continue to live with Corky?” I asked.“Not safely,” Veronica said. “I don’t know. Maybe we’re overreacting.”I heard Annie Earl and Brenda walk past. They were discussing how to get rid of soap scum. Then I heard the sound of clogs.“Corky?” I gasped.“Shh,” Veronica said.We crouched in silence. The footsteps stopped.“You two can run,” Corky said. “You two can even hide. Temporarily. But what you can’t do is escape your consequence. I will find you.”“Corky Tina Baker, you are freaking mental,” Veronica said, pounding the door with her fist.Corky didn’t respond.“You think you’re so tough because you killed a mountain lion. And have a criminal record. But I think you’re bluffing.”There was a light tracing sound against the door. Like Corky was writing on it.Then I heard the sound of Corky’s clogs as she walked off.“Do you think she’s really gone?” I asked.“I do,” Veronica said.“You don’t think she’s tricking us?” “I don’t,” she said.I held my breath as Veronica slowly opened the door. A sliver of light fell onto the floor. She poked her head out. Then she shoved the door open in one quick motion.“Watch it!” Kite said. “You could have given me a concussion.”“Sorry,” Veronica said.I followed her into the hallway and shut the AV door.“What’s that?” Roger asked.Veronica and I stared at the large shape Corky had drawn. It looked like half of a Twinkie with the letters “RIP” written on it. “It‘s a tombstone,” Kite said.Oh my god. It was a symbol of our fates.“Does this mean something?” Roger asked.“I’m not really sure,” I said. Roger took my arm and led me farther down the hallway.“I want to apologize for this morning,” he said.“It’s okay,” I said. I could hear Veronica pumping Kite for details about the shaving incident. They walked together toward the stairs.“I’m not an angry person,” Roger told me. “It’s just, Waller has been acting insane these last few days, and when I found him today I was really fed up.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked down at me. “No hard feelings,” I said. Roger was still agitated. “I don’t mean to trash Waller,” he said, “but you can’t come to Prague and get plastered and then shave someone’s head.”“I would never do that.” “Right, because people who go through life with no impulse control are boring. I’m not saying he’s boring. But he is definitely prone to bouts of unnecessary flagrant stupidity.”I loved that phrase:
unnecessary flagrant stupidity
. I stored it away in my brain to use against Veronica.“Anyway, while sauced, he likes to flirt with things, especially disaster.” Roger shook his head. “I’m sorry if I ruined your morning,” he finished.“You didn’t,” I said. “I had a pretty good morning. I mean, until now.”He nodded at the AV door and raised his eyebrows. “She’s joking, right?”“I hope so.”He looked back at the door and then at me. “Let me know if you need anything. I’ve had EMT training,” he said. “So I’m good at responding to distress signals.”“That’s cool,” I said. We walked outside and found Veronica waiting at the bottom of the stone steps.Roger waved good-bye to me. “Thanks for listening.”I smiled and would have said “Any time,” if Veronica hadn’t thrown her arms around me and semi-collapsed into my chest. “I can’t believe something this terrible happened to my main hot-dude.”“Your main hot-dude?” I said. “You’re seriously worried about
Frank
right now?”Veronica reached out and fluffed my hair. “We’re fine,” she said. “We just have to look out for Corky as we search for more hot-dudes. Also, I really need to find a banana.”

Chapter Fourteen

I
wasn’t sure why I’d postponed calling my mother until the fifth day I was in Prague. It just seemed like so much was happening. Yesterday, after workshop, Veronica and I walked over the Charles Bridge and took a funicular to the top of Petřín hill, and then ate cheap Thai food at a restaurant that only had nine chairs. Miraculously, after that, Veronica went with me to attend a Black Light Theater show, because four hot-dudes from Spain, whom we met at the park, were going. However, when the two dudes Veronica had found hottest began to make out during the show, her enthusiasm dwindled.In the dorm lobby I fed enough crowns into the pay-phone change slot to talk for seven minutes. I only had $350 of my $400. And I still had twenty-three days left in Prague. It didn’t take an economist to realize that, financially, I’d soon be on the ropes.
ME:
Mom! I’ve been so busy here. How are you?
MOM:
If you hadn’t called today, I was going to phone the embassy.
ME:
Wow. Sorry.
MOM:
Why didn’t you call sooner? We said two days. That was the plan.
ME:
I know. I know. It’s just been crazy here.
I watched Corky enter the building. She bent her fingers into the shape of a gun and shot me.
MOM:
Things are crazy? Has something happened? Your voice sounds funny. What’s going on?
ME:
No. Nothing is going on. I mean it’s been crazy busy.
MOM:
How’s your money holding out? Should I deposit more into the account?
ME:
No. I’m fine. I have enough.
MOM:
Okay. Now that I know you aren’t dead and dismembered in a ditch, why don’t you tell me about Prague?
ME:
It’s amazing. The buildings are totally different from anything in Ohio. And I toured a few synagogues with ceilings that were so high that they must use cherry pickers to clean the cobwebs.
MOM:
It sounds wonderful.
ME:
It is.
MOM:
Are you liking the food?
ME:
We eat cereal in the cafeteria for breakfast. And Mrs. Knox bought us a bunch of regular groceries.
MOM:
Don’t let her do that!
ME:
I know. Don’t worry. The food is pretty cheap.
MOM:
Do you have any roommates?
ME:
Um. Yeah.
MOM:
Tell me about them.
ME:
There’s not much to tell. I’m just getting to know them. Mainly I hang out with Veronica.
MOM:
This could be a fun chance to meet new people.
ME:
Yeah.
MOM:
You might end up making a lifelong bond with a roommate. You never know. She could turn out to be a bridesmaid at your wedding.
ME:
I’m not really thinking about my wedding.
MOM:
Right. You know, I’m not sure if you want to hear this, but Hamilton called.
ME:
Oh my god. Why? Did something happen to him?
MOM:
No. Calm down. He wanted your mailing address in Prague.
ME:
He did?
MOM:
Yes. And he also asked for a phone number, but I told him that you didn’t have one.
ME:
This is shocking. I mean, I haven’t talked to him in over a month. If he wants my phone number, he must want to talk to me, right?
MOM:
I’d assume so. Dessy, I gave him your address. Is that okay?
ME:
Yes! Did he mention what he wanted to mail me?
MOM:
No. He didn’t. But Dessy, you’re in Prague. You shouldn’t be thinking about Hamilton.
ME:
I thought you liked Hamilton.
MOM:
That’s not the point. You’ve got so much potential. Don’t saddle your heart to the first boy you fall for.
ME:
But you and dad met in high school.
MOM:
(Silence)
ME:
Don’t worry, Mom. I’ve hardly thought about Hamilton at all. It mostly happens when I see birds.
MOM:
Life is long. You should date.
ME:
Yeah. It would be a lot easier if guys weren’t so weird.
MOM:
You’re meeting weird guys in Prague? What’s your curfew there?
ME:
No. I’m not talking about Prague. In general, I just mean that guys are hard to understand.
MOM:
Sorry to tell you this, but it only gets worse.
ME:
What?
MOM:
Because of the Y chromosome.
ME:
Oh, Mom.
MOM:
You’re both young. You might find your way back to each other. But you might not. In the meantime, date.
ME:
Prague guys?
MOM:
No, wait until you get home.
ME:
You’re making this sound like a Lifetime movie.
OPERATOR
: You have one minute left.
MOM:
I love you, Dessy. I think about you all the time. Wait. Your father is right here. He wants to talk to you. He picked up a book about Prague at the library. He’s got a question for you. Here he is.
DAD:
Dessy? Are you there?
ME:
I’m here. How are you, Dad?
DAD:
Well, my sciatica is acting up again. But other than that I can’t complain. I’ve been reading about a castle—
ME:
I’ve seen it! It’s right along the river. It’s by the university where I’m going to class.
DAD:
Let me tell your mother. Judy, she’s already seen the castle. It’s by her school.
ME:
Well, I haven’t taken a tour. My new friend Waller and I will probably go next week.
DAD:
Waller? What kind of parent names his daughter Waller?
ME:
No, Waller is a guy.
DAD:
What? A guy? Is that some sort of gang name?
ME:
No, Dad. Waller is from Chicago.
DAD:
You’re trying to tell me there’s not gangs in Chicago?
ME:
No. I mean, I know that there’s gangs in Chicago. But Waller isn’t in a gang. Waller isn’t his real name. It’s a nickname. It’s short for Walnut. He has a talent.
DAD:
I warned your mother this could happen. Judy, she’s met up with a gang kid named Walnut. In Europe!
ME:
Dad, don’t tell Mom that. You’ll freak her out. Waller is totally respectable. He’s in college—
DAD:
College!
Click
Uh-oh. That wasn’t a very reassuring phone call. For anyone. Why did my father act like that? Didn’t he trust my judgment? I could tell the difference between a decent guy and a cruddy guy. Couldn’t I?I walked back to the dorm and crouched down outside the hallway window. Coast clear. I swiped my magnetic card and ran for my bedroom door. Veronica had wedged a sock in the doorjamb; the protruding cotton heel was a sign that she was safe inside the room with the window sealed shut. We didn’t dare open the window anymore, unless both of us were in the room. We figured it would be harder to ambush two people at once. I unlocked our door, raced inside, and slammed the door. Veronica stood on the other side of the room, slowly turning around in front of the full-length mirror.“How did the conversation go?” she asked. She was dressed in a denim miniskirt that I’d never seen before. It barely covered her butt. And she was wearing a tight pink tank top. She didn’t look trashy, but didn’t look parent-presentable either.“Why are you dressed like that?” I asked.“I’m trying to decide what to wear on our date with Scotty Dee,” she said. “I want him to notice my legs. But I also want him to pay attention to my shoulders.”“Why your shoulders?” I asked.“I think they’re one of my most mature features. Seriously. Look at them.”She stretched her arms out wide in front of me and leaned forward to emphasize her shoulders.“Don’t you think they make me look twenty?” she asked. “Sure,” I said. “Hey, that skirt is way too short. You should wear jeans.” “But everybody wears jeans,” she said. She let her arms drop to her side and frowned.“Can’t you do something normal for once?” I asked. “What if we end up walking a long distance? Or have to jog to catch a cab? You’re wearing clothes that constrain you.”“That’s not true,” Veronica said.“Then lift your arms above your head.”Veronica raised her thin arms over her head, and her skirt lifted up, revealing first the top of her thighs and then her pale yellow underwear.“Is there a problem?” she asked.I sat down on my bed and closed my eyes.“Hey, what’s wrong?” Veronica sat down next to me and put her arm around my shoulder. “If you hate my clothes that much I’ll go ahead and change.”“This isn’t about your wardrobe,” I said.“I know. The thing with Corky is totally wearing on me too. I wasn’t going to tell you this, but last night she stood outside our window for two hours.”“She did?” I asked. “What was she doing?”“Arranging rocks.”I slid Veronica’s arm off me and walked to the window.Corky had taken small stones and spelled out the words “Return it.”“Holy shit,” I said. “What does she want us to return?” Veronica shrugged. “Her dignity. Her sanity. Her liberty. Who knows? In addition to being psycho, Corky is a real mystery.”“Great,” I said. “But that’s not even why I’m upset.”“Waller issues?” Veronica asked.I shook my head.“A Hamilton flare-up?” “No. You make heartbreak sound like hemorrhoids.” “Well, it makes sense. Because they can both burn your ass.”“Can you just stop being
Veronica
and be serious for a minute?” “Yeah, you’re right. What’s wrong?” she asked. “I’m here for you.”“It’s about my dad. I think you’re right. We don’t connect.”“Did you talk to him on the phone?” she asked.“I tried,” I said, “but he brought up his sciatica. And then he got mad when I mentioned Waller.”“Wait,” Veronica said. “You mentioned Waller? Why?”“I wanted to tell him what I was doing.”“No father wants to hear
who
his daughter is
doing
.” “Hey, that’s not what I meant.”“You two need therapy,” she said.“That depresses me on many levels. First, we don’t have the money for it. Second, my father would never go.”“First, that’s only two levels, and you said that it depressed you on many. Second, I don’t know what to tell you. My best advice would be to stop bringing up your sex life with him.”“Veronica, I’m not having sex with anybody. It’s like you’re not even listening to my problem. You’re just saying whatever is on your mind regardless of what I need to hear.”
Knock. Knock. Knock.
We both looked at the door.“Doesn’t it bother you that we can no longer open our door for fear that Corky the Maniac could be waiting on the other side?” I asked.“Of course that bothers me,” Veronica said. “That’s why I always ask you to open the door.”“Well, I’m not doing it this time.”“Fine,” she said. “I’ll get on the floor and look under the crack.”Veronica got on her stomach and pressed her face right up to the doorjamb. “What do you see?” I asked.“Toes,” Veronica said.“You see bare feet?” I asked. “Do they appear Corkylike in any way?”“They have hair on them,” she said. “Gross.”“Is anybody in there?” a male voice asked. “It still could be Corky,” I said.I didn’t know if she was an expert at disguising her voice, but I wouldn’t have put it past her.“We can’t live like prisoners,” Veronica said. “God! Screw Corky! This is my door and I’m opening it.”I covered my ears and watched as Veronica dramatically yanked on the knob.It was Waller! I quit holding my head and waved.“Hey,” he said, waving back. “Is everything okay in here? I thought I heard yelling.”“I was reading my story out loud,” Veronica said.“You yell ‘Screw Corky’ and ‘This is my door’ in your story?” Waller asked. Then he winked at me. Then he did a double take when he saw Veronica’s man- wall.Veronica jumped onto her bed and held up her arms, trying to conceal some of the hot-dudes.“Is that a map?” Waller asked. “Of guys?”“No,” Veronica said. “I’m plotting something. For my story.”“Right,” Waller said, giving Veronica a slight nod.“Moving on,” Veronica said, stepping down off her bed and turning Waller’s body away from the man-wall. “What brings you to the girl wing of the dorm? And, more precisely, what brings you to room 106?”My heart nearly stopped when Waller pointed to me.“The guys and I wanted to drive up to Kutná Hora. We’re leaving tomorrow morning, and we’ve got some extra space in the car.”“Really?” I said.“Yeah, do you two want to come?” he asked.“Absolutely,” I said.“Kutná what?” Veronica asked.“They’re going to this cathedral outside of town,” I said.I didn’t want Waller to explain it, because if he made it sound boring, I knew Veronica wouldn’t go. And we’d been given a double invitation. Both of us had been asked. And it seemed risky to try to convert it into a single invitation. That would sound like I was being way too eager to make it a date.Veronica sat down on her bed. “How long would we be gone?”Her date with Scotty Dee wasn’t until late. We’d be back in plenty of time. I couldn’t believe she was asking that. “We’ll be back by late afternoon. You two will make a good buffer,” Waller said. “Things are still a little tense between me and the guys.”“Duh,” Veronica said. “What did you expect when you balded Frank?”“Frank isn’t going,” Waller said.“I guess that makes sense,” Veronica said. “So we’ll see you guys tomorrow?” Waller said.“Yeah,” I said.I couldn’t stop smiling, even after he left.Veronica took her skirt off and stood in her underwear in front of the mirror.“So you’re forgoing pants entirely?” I asked.She ignored the question and turned around to look at her butt. “I sort of don’t like Waller anymore.”“Really?” I asked. This surprised me, because I was liking him more and more.“He ruined Frank for me,” she said. “Because not only is Frank bald, but he’s also bitter. And I don’t find that emotion attractive.”“If he wasn’t bitter, do you think you could look past the baldness?”Veronica pulled on a pair of jeans. Then she stuck out her tongue and released a puff of air, imitating the sound of a fart.“Probably not,” she said. “Looking at him before made me feel horny. Now it’s like staring at my dumpy-looking Uncle Terry’s head.”“That’s harsh,” I said. I’d met her Uncle Terry.“I need to be honest with myself. Frank isn’t a hot-dude anymore.” I watched Veronica walk to her man-wall and tear Frank off with a quick pull. “You’re taking him off the man-wall?” I asked. I hadn’t realized hot-dudes were removable.Veronica held the paper Frank in her hand and tore his head off his body. Then she slapped the newly beheaded hot-dude back on the wall.“Frank is a compromised hot-dude now. And I think his paper depiction should reflect that.”Veronica sounded very somber. She returned to her mirror and smoothed her jeans. “In other somewhat related terrible news, I’m out of crazy-cute clothes,” she said. “And I need more.” I didn’t waste my time offering to let her borrow some of mine. I didn’t own anything “Veronica” enough.Veronica bent over and aggressively fluffed her hair. Several weak strands snapped and drifted to the floor. When she finished and flipped her head back up, her hair didn’t look large and exaggerated. She appeared ready to do a photo shoot for a magazine cover. She was awesome.“I bet Corky calms down in five days,” she said.“Really?” I liked the idea of that.“And I bet Waller kisses you in Kutná Hora.”“No!” I said.“Yes!” Veronica answered.I thought of Waller’s lips closing in on mine in a cathedral.“He won’t kiss me in front of everyone,” I said.Veronica smiled and shook her head. “I know. He’s going to say he wants to show you something. Then he’s going to lead you around a corner. Then he’s going to look both ways. Then he’s going to lean in and say something sweet. Then he’s going to move his mouth slowly toward yours. Also, after a few light presses there will probably be some tongue.”“Really?” I asked.It had taken Hamilton a whole month of kissing before he’d slipped me any tongue. To be honest, I think I was the one who slipped it to him.“God,” she said. “You’re so lucky I’m going. I’ll be a diversionary tactic for you. I’ll keep the other guys busy and give you the space you need to conquer your new man.”“Wow,” I said. “Thanks. So you really think this is going to happen?”“He came to our dorm room and practically asked you to be his girlfriend.”I blushed.“I hope things can go half this good with Scotty Dee. By the way, we can’t spend all afternoon at Kutná Hora. We need to be back in time so that I can get ready for our Aussie date. He’s my new number one hot-dude. And I’ll need adequate time to primp.”“You’ll have time.” I said.“I better. Or I’m hitchhiking back.”She slipped off her tank top and put on a tight white T-shirt. Then she fluffed her hair again, and pulled out a bottle of hairspray.“I want to see what happens when I volumize around my roots,” she said.A pungent odor filled the room. I opened the window in an attempt to create breathable air. That’s when I spotted the tops of Mrs. Knox’s and Corky’s heads exiting the dorm through the back door.“It’s your mother,” I said. “With Corky!”Veronica joined me at the window. Mrs. Knox and Corky were walking off.“We have to tell your mom that Corky is crazy!” I said.Veronica shook her head. “Corky isn’t going to hurt my mom. She worships her. Haven’t you noticed how she kisses her butt every class? She’s a classic suck-up. They don’t make them any suckier.”“Brownnosing is one thing, but going out socially is a different ballgame,” I said.“Really, unless we plan on telling my mom the whole Corky story—my wild night out, what I found on her computer, yada, yada, yada—our hands our tied.”“So we’re just going to let this happen?” I asked, gesturing out the window. “Doesn’t it bother you?” Veronica kicked off her sturdy leather walking sandals and stepped into her unstable black platform sandals.“Ever since my dad walked out, everything my mom does bothers me.”“What if Corky tells your mom horrible lies about you and tries to really wreck your life?” I asked.“Corky is a very temporary fixture in my life. As long as she doesn’t kill me, or turn me into an amputee, she’ll be out of my hair at the end of the month.” I didn’t think that Veronica seemed as unhinged as she should have been. I gave her a panicked look.“I’m seventeen,” she said. “I’m not supposed to get along with my mother. There’s supposed to be a ton of dissonance. It’s basically required. I read all about it in that book on the plane.