where they were meeting several of their friends. It was a new club that had become popular among singles. Frannie listened and made appropriate responses, but her thoughts weren’t on the evening ahead. She stared out the window at the passing scenery, watching trees and houses and storefronts disappear in a blur and thinking how her life with Dennis had been like a car ride.
They’d started a journey together and reached a destination, but everything in between had been of little consequence. All the places they’d been, the things they’d seen were gone, just like the passing scenery. There was nothing memorable about that journey—except for the children—and that was the part of the ride Dennis wanted to forget.
“This is it.” Lois’s announcement interrupted her musings. The taxi stopped in front of an old brick building in the warehouse district. The only indication there was a club inside was the line of people waiting to gain admission. “Come on. We need to find Shannon and Misti.”
Frannie wasn’t sure how they’d find the other two women in the crowd, but she was glad when they did; being with her women friends was exactly what she needed to push all thoughts of Dennis Harper out of her mind. They moved from club to club, each one a little bit noisier than the previous one, all of them perfect backdrops for the laughter they shared. It felt good to have fun, and when it was time to go home, not even fatigue could stop Frannie from wishing the night wasn’t over.
Their final stop was a twenty-four hour deli where they ate chocolate desserts and rehashed the encounters they’d had that evening. Frannie couldn’t remember when she’d laughed so much, and made a promise that she wasn’t going to let so much time pass before she went out with them again.
She and Lois were both grateful they had Lenny to drive them home. After saying good-night to her sister, Frannie dragged her feet up the walk to the front door. She paid the baby-sitter, then stood on the front porch until the teen was safely in the house next door.
Then she went inside the place that had been home for the past five years. A quick peek into Emma’s room assured her the little girl was asleep. Next she went to the boys’ room and poked her head in to make sure everything was all right. She was about to leave when she remembered the posters. Unable to resist, she tiptoed over to the desk and opened the top drawer.
A small night-light in the shape of a baseball was just strong enough for her to see the stack of flyers. In the near darkness, Dennis’s face stared up at her. She squeezed her eyes shut and didn’t open them again until she’d pushed the drawer shut. Angry for letting her curiosity get the better of her, she quietly left the room.
Later, as she lay in bed, all thoughts of her night out with the girls had vanished. There was only one thing on her mind: Alex’s deadbeat father.
“MOM, LUKE’S BEEN MESSING with my baseball cards again,” Alex cried out in frustration as he stormed into the kitchen, his faux-leather album spread wide so she could see the empty pockets.
“No, I didn’t,” the three-year-old denied.
“Yes, you did,” Alex said, then turned back to his mother.
“I told you to keep them out of his reach,” Frannie said absently, her attention on the negatives she held up to the light.
“They were out of reach,” Alex said in exasperation. “I had them on top of the dresser, but he’s like a monkey, climbing all over the place. You either need to put him in a cage or give me my own room.”
She clicked her tongue in reprobation. “He’s not a monkey, he’s your brother—he doesn’t belong in a cage. And you know you can’t have your own room.”
“So what am I supposed to do? Watch all my stuff get ruined?”
“They’re only dumb old trading cards,” Emma said, standing at the counter buttering her toast.
He shot her a look of disdain. “Go ahead and call them dumb. They’re gonna be worth a lot of money someday.”
Emma grunted in disbelief.
“They are! Trading cards are big business. I heard a guy got a thousand dollars for a Cal Ripken.”
Frannie raised one eyebrow. “Do you have a Cal Ripken?”
“No, but some of my cards will be worth something someday if they’re not all wrecked. Mom, you’ve got to do something. He’s always into everything…my homework, my cards…everything. Can’t I please have my own room?”
“That would mean putting Luke in with Emma,” Frannie said, telling him with her tone what a bad idea that was.
“He can’t. He’s not a girl,” Emma said.
“It’s not fair,” Alex said, slamming his album down on the table. “Luke’s a monster.” It was a comment that caused the three-year-old to chuckle with delight.
“It’s just a stage he’s in,” Frannie said consolingly. “It won’t be long before you’re the best of friends.”
Alex made a sound of disbelief.
“You should read Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing, ” Emma suggested. “Peter has the same problem with his brother Fudge that you have with Luke.”
“I don’t want to read a book. I want my cards,” Alex demanded.
“Luke, did you take your brother’s baseball cards?” Frannie asked.
Luke giggled again, then ran from the room. When he returned, he clutched two trading cards in his fists. Alex grabbed them from him.
“Books are make-believe,” Alex said to Emma. “This isn’t.” He held up two dog-eared cards for their inspection. “Look! Chuck Knoblauch and Derek Jeter ruined!”
He grabbed his album and was about to stamp out of the kitchen, when Frannie said, “Alex, I’d like to talk to you after you’ve had breakfast.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Well, when you are hungry, let me know. I’ll make you some pancakes and you and I will have a heart-to-heart.”
Alex grunted, then slipped out of the kitchen. As he left, Emma called out, “If you want my Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing, I’ll loan it to you.”
Frannie didn’t think Alex wanted anything but to be left alone. When Luke would have followed him, she grabbed him by the waist and set him on a chair. “Time to eat.”
“He’s mad, you know,” Emma commented.
“He just needs some time alone,” she told her daughter, but she knew that as soon as she’d fed Luke, she’d see if there wasn’t something else she could do for Alex.
ALEX HEARD HIS SISTER’S VOICE echo through the hallway as he headed for his room. He didn’t care if Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing was the best book in the whole wide world. He didn’t want to read about some kid named Peter who had a little brother who messed with his things.
It was bad enough that he had a little brother who messed with his things. And the title of his sister’s favorite book was enough to make him want to bury it at the bottom of his closet. Why would anyone want to read about
