Grannie took me to meet Mom today at the Big Chicken. When I caught sight of her standing in the parking lot looking for us, all my anger just washed away and I started squealing like a baby pig. We hugged and hugged and hugged. It was so great, but she feels bony. I don’t think she’s eating hardly anything.

Grannie carried her book with her and sat in a different part of the restaurant so Mom and I could have some private time together. She said we could have two hours if they didn’t need our table.

“Oh, Emmy, I can’t look at you enough,” Mom said as we pulled out our chairs. “I swear I think you’ve grown three or four inches already. I’ve missed you so much.”

I wanted to say, “Then why haven’t you showed up when you were supposed to?” But I didn’t. All that mattered was her sitting across the table from me right then.

“Tell me how things are going at school,” she said.

“Okay, I guess.”

“Just okay?” she said with a nervous laugh. Her hand trembled as she reached for her water. “What about your friend, Justina? What’s she doing these days?”

“I don’t know. I don’t see her much anymore.”

“Really? What about Tommy?” she said, snitching one of my French fries.

“Him, either.”

“Oh, well,” she said, shrugging her shoulders, “you’ll make new friends at Bob’s place when I can get you there. I’m working on it with my attorney. I’m sure I saw a girl about your age down the road.”

My brain was awhirl trying to think what to say. Finally, I said, “Daddy says I can’t go there.”

Her eyes glinted. “Oh, he does—does he? Well, we’ll see about that. You’re my daughter and I’m not giving you up.”

A little thrill went through my body even though I was scared about having to go to Bob’s place. At least she still wanted me.

Grannie came over to our table and said she was sorry, but it was time to go. Mom put on her sunglasses that are so dark it’s like looking into a black hole, and we walked outside. When I turned to hug her goodbye, streaks of wet black mascara were running down her face from under her glasses. She put out her finger. “Best Friends?”

I touched her finger with mine and said, “Best Friends.” Then I real-fast squeezed her as hard as I could, jumped in the car, fastened my seatbelt, and began waving goodbye through the window. As Grannie pulled out of the parking lot, I turned around in the seat and looked back.

There she was—standing all alone—still waving.


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