Karen's Two Families

  “Just you and me,” I replied.

  “Okay,” said Mommy.

  I drew in a deep breath. I reminded myself to stay calm and to act like a grownup. I was not going to whine or pout or beg. “Mommy,” I began, “Andrew and I have not been happy about something lately. We miss Daddy and our big-house family. We want to spend more time with them. We want equal time, please.” I told Mommy why. I told her about the big-girl bed and David Michael’s play, but mostly about how sad Andrew and I felt sometimes.

  When I stopped talking, Mommy took my hand. She held it for a moment, so I knew she was not angry. Even so, she said, “Karen, I do not think the custody arrangements are going to change. They have been working fine for several years now. Besides, I do not want to spend less time with you and Andrew. I would miss you very much if you were not living here.”

  “But we would still live here,” I said. “Just — just not quite as often. And Andrew and I miss Daddy now. We miss him a lot of the time.” I almost said, “That is not fair,” but I changed my mind. I decided it would sound whiney.

  “I know things are not perfect — ” Mommy started to say.

  “They do not have to be perfect,” I interrupted her. “Just better.”

  “Karen, this is an adult decision,” Mommy went on.

  I wanted to say, “But it is about the kids.” I kept my mouth closed, though. I was not going to interrupt again.

  “A lot of people needed a lot of time to figure out the custody arrangements. And a judge said the arrangements were okay. They were not meant to be changed. And I really do not want to change them. And I do not want to see less of you and Andrew,” Mommy told me.

  I decided not to argue. “All right,” I said. I left the room.

  A few minutes later I telephoned Daddy. He was waiting for my call. He told me he was in a quiet place where he would not be bothered.

  “Good,” I said. “Thank you.” Then I told him pretty much what I had told Mommy. I finished by saying, “Andrew and I wish we could have equal time. Please.”

  I heard Daddy sigh. “Whew,” he said. “Honey, I wish we could have equal time, too. I would like nothing better than to see lots more of you and Andrew. You don’t know how much I miss you guys.”

  “Probably as much as we miss you.”

  “But I do not think your mother would agree to the change.”

  “Could you talk to her about it?” I asked. I let myself feel a teensy bit hopeful.

  “I could, but that would just cause trouble. And I do not want that. Besides, arrangements are arrangements. Lawyers and a judge helped us make this decision. We have to stick to it.”

  “You mean it cannot be changed?” I cried.

  “Nooo…. It could. But it is more complicated than that, Karen. And this is not really my decision.”

  When Daddy and I got off the phone, I went to my room. I lay on my bed and stared at the ceiling. I felt weak. No one would listen to me. Why wouldn’t they hear me? I had no voice or power at all.

  Ribbons

  The weeks were going by. Every single one of the puppies had been sold. They were growing bigger and older. I felt sad a lot of the time, but not when I was around the puppies. They could always make me laugh.

  Mommy let me visit the puppies pretty often. Maybe she felt bad because she knew how much I missed being at the big house. She had said no to equal time, and I had not bugged her about it. Just like Andrew had not bugged her for a pet. Bugging her would make me look like a baby. Besides, I had a feeling I could not change her mind. I tried to let things go.

  The puppies took my mind off of my troubles. One day, when Hannie and I went to Maria’s house, we found a surprise. Several of the puppies wore ribbons around their necks — one blue, one purple, one red.

  “Hey!” I cried. “Why are the puppies dressed up?”

  “They aren’t dressed up,” Maria replied. She was smiling. “They are wearing the ribbons so we can tell them apart. The owners are starting to choose the puppies they will take home. The Francos chose the one with the red ribbon. Mr. Evans chose the one with the blue ribbon. And Miss Fallon chose the one with the purple ribbon.”

  “Oh,” I said. The ribbons were a very smart idea.

  “Someone else is coming to choose a puppy today,” Maria went on. “Want to stay and watch?”

  “Sure,” said Hannie and I.

  A few minutes later the doorbell rang. Maria ran to answer it. Soon she and her mother came back with a man and a woman.

  “Girls,” said Mrs. Kilbourne, “meet Mr. and Mrs. Dodson.”

  The Dodsons hurried to the pen and peered in at the puppies. The puppies looked much more like puppies now. Their eyes were open, and they could yip and walk and tumble around. They liked to play, and a few of them had tried to climb out of the pen.

  “Aw, isn’t that one cute?” said Mrs. Dodson.

  “Look at this one,” said Mr. Dodson. He pointed to a different puppy.

  “I like the markings on his face,” agreed Mrs. Dodson. “He looks as if he is wearing a mask.”

  I could hardly tell the puppies apart, but their markings were a little different. I watched while the Dodsons chose just the right puppy. (It was the one with the mask.) Mrs. Kilbourne tied a green ribbon around its neck.

  “Come back any time you want to visit your puppy,” said Mrs. Kilbourne. “I know you will be happy with him.”

  But would the puppy be happy with the Dodsons?

  I nudged Maria. “What do you know about the Dodsons?” I asked her. “Do they have a yard for the puppy to play in? Do they have any kids? Do they live near a busy street?”

  “Hmm. I do not know,” replied Maria.

  Maria and Hannie and I spent the next half hour making a questionnaire. We decided we would copy it and give it to the people who were buying the puppies. Then we would know about the homes the puppies were going to. And we could say things to the buyers like, “Since you live on a busy street, make sure your puppy stays in the backyard.” Or, “We notice that you do not have any children. Now, puppies like to play. So make sure you play with the puppy yourself. And give it plenty of exercise.”

  When the questionnaires were finished, my friends and I were not so worried.

  Trouble

  Of course, I could not spend all day at Maria’s house with the puppies. I could not go there every afternoon, or even every other afternoon. And in between visits, I felt very sad. Not because I could not see the puppies. I felt sad because Mommy and Daddy would not give Andrew and me equal time.

  I wished my life were different.

  I wished it so much that it was all I could think about. I thought about it in school when I was supposed to be working. I thought about it at night when I was supposed to be sleeping.

  “Karen,” Ms. Colman said to me in school one day, “where are your math worksheets? The ones with the subtraction facts?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  “You did not finish them yesterday. You were supposed to take them home with you and finish them last night.”

  “I was? I’m sorry. I did not remember.”

  Ms. Colman frowned at me. “That is not like you, Karen.”

  I shrugged again. “Can I go sit down, please?”

  “Okay,” replied Ms. Colman with a big sigh.

  That afternoon, Ms. Colman called on me during a science discussion. “What do you think, Karen?” she asked.

  “About what?” (I had not been listening.)

  Ms. Colman let out another sigh. It was even bigger than her sigh that morning. “Please pay attention, Karen.”

  The next day something interesting happened during reading. Audrey Green was reading aloud. We were following along in our books. I felt my eyes begin to close, so I put my head down on my desk. The next thing I knew Ms. Colman was shaking my shoulder. “Karen, Karen. Karen?” she was saying.

  I opened my eyes. “What?”

  “What time did you go to bed last n
ight?”

  “Early. But I could not sleep.”

  “Karen, this cannot continue. I am going to have to call your mother and talk to her.”

  “Okay,” I replied.

  I really did not care what Ms. Colman did.

  Lawyers

  Ms. Colman did call Mommy. She called her that very afternoon, right after school. I was sitting on the couch in front of the TV. Andrew was with me. A cartoon show was on. Andrew was watching it, but I was not. I was just sitting there. Nancy had invited me over to play, but I did not feel like playing.

  When the phone rang, Mommy picked it up in the next room. “Oh, hi!” I heard her say. “What? … She fell asleep? Well, I don’t — ” After a long pause, she said, “I know, I know. Karen has always loved school. That is why I am surprised to hear that her work is slipping.” (That was when I knew Ms. Colman was on the other end of the line.) After another pause, I heard Mommy say, “I admit she has seemed sad lately…. No, she and Nancy haven’t played together much lately. Or she and Hannie, for that matter.”

  Mommy lowered her voice then, and I could not hear her anymore. I thought about tiptoeing to the kitchen to eavesdrop, but I did not really feel like doing that. I did not care what they were talking about.

  After awhile, Mommy came into the room. She clicked off the TV. “Andrew,” she said, “I would like to talk to Karen in private for a few minutes. You may watch the TV in my bedroom, if you like.”

  Andrew pouted. His cartoon had been interrupted. “Oh, all right,” he said. He stalked out of the room.

  Mommy sat beside me on the couch. “Honey, Ms. Colman just telephoned,” she told me. “She is worried about you. She said your work is slipping and you are not paying attention. She said you even fell asleep this morning. And she said you seem sad all the time. You seem sad to Seth and me, too.”

  “Can I put the cartoons back on?” I asked.

  “No. We are going to talk. Karen, why are you sad?” I shrugged. Mommy paused. Then she said, “What would make you feel better?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “How about the puppy? Astrid’s last puppy? Maybe we could get another dog after all.”

  “It has been sold. They have all been sold.”

  “Oh.” Mommy drew in her breath. “This is about the custody arrangements, isn’t it? That is why you are so sad.”

  “I guess…. I mean, yes. That is why I am sad. Andrew is sad, too, you know. That is why he pouts all the time.”

  “All right,” said Mommy. “I will talk to your father.”

  Mommy looked at me. I think she expected me to smile or something, but I could not. I was afraid to. I had let myself feel hopeful once before. Then I had been disappointed. I did not want that to happen again. I would wait and see.

  I did not have to wait long. Mommy left me. She went back to the kitchen. She called Daddy at work and they talked. Mostly, I did not listen. But before Mommy hung up, I heard her say, “All right. I will call John Sachs. You call Peter.” (They are our lawyers.) The next thing I knew, Mommy was saying to Mr. Sachs, “About the custody arrangements, John…. ”

  Mommy was on the phone a lot during the next few days.

  Finally I let myself feel just an intsy bit hopeful.

  Oops!

  I did not ask Mommy or Daddy about the arrangements. I did not ask about the lawyers or the phone calls. Something was going on, and I was feeling hopeful. But I did not want to be disappointed again. So I tried to think about other things.

  Of course, I thought about the puppies. Boy, were they different now. Maria and her family let them out of the pen sometimes. They ran around the Kilbournes’ rec room. They tussled with each other. They played tug-of-war with their toys. I had forgotten how much fun Shannon had been when she was that little.

  “They are perfect puppies,” I said to Maria one day.

  “Yeah.” Maria smiled. “I wish they could stay just this size forever. Not too big and not too small.”

  Mommy had driven me to Maria’s house that day after school. Hannie had been invited, too, but she had a play date with another friend. Maria and I were on the floor in the rec room. We were surrounded by puppies. They yipped and scampered and leaped around us. Maria and I started to giggle and could not stop.

  “Play gently, girls!” Mrs. Kilbourne called to us from the other room. “And only ten more minutes. Then the puppies will need to rest.”

  “Okay!” Maria called back.

  I grabbed a rubber ball and rolled it across the room. A herd of puppies chased after it, their ribbons flying.

  “Sometimes I wish they didn’t have to wear the ribbons,” I said to Maria. “They look like furry birthday presents.”

  Maria giggled. “I know. But we would never be able to tell them apart without the ribbons.”

  A few minutes later, Mrs. Kilbourne entered the room. She helped us put the puppies back in the pen. Then she shooed us out.

  “Boo,” I said. “I wanted to stay.”

  “Well, come up to my room,” said Maria. “We can look at the questionnaires. Four people filled them out and gave them back to me.”

  We ran to Maria’s room. We read the answers the owners had written on the papers. I had been worried about things like traffic, or no yard to play in, or living cooped up in a little apartment.

  “You know what?” I said to Maria after we had looked at the questionnaires. “I think the puppies are going to good homes. We do not need to worry.” I checked my watch then. “Hey!” I exclaimed. “Seth is going to pick me up in ten minutes.”

  “We better peek at the puppies again then,” replied Maria.

  “But your mom said to leave them alone.”

  “She said not to play with them. She did not say we could not look at them.”

  Maria and I tiptoed downstairs. We tiptoed into the rec room. (I wondered why we were tiptoeing, if it was okay to look at the puppies.) We knelt by the pen, and I reached in to pat Astrid and her babies one more time.

  “Who tied these ribbons?” I asked Maria. “They are in big knots. They look awful. Let’s tie them in bows.”

  “Okay,” said Maria. She and I each took the ribbon off of one puppy. A red ribbon and a green ribbon. Before we could tie them back on, though, Maria yelped, “My mom is coming!”

  Maria and I flung ourselves behind a couch. But Mrs. Kilbourne walked right by the rec room.

  “Phew! That was close!” exclaimed Maria. “Come on. Let’s put the ribbons back on and get out of here.” That was when Maria and I realized something. We did not know which ribbon to tie on which puppy. The puppies looked the same. So we just guessed. Then we ran out of the room.

  Changes

  The day after Maria and I had our puppy scare was a Thursday. Mommy and Andrew drove to school to pick Nancy and me up. When we returned home, I said to Nancy, “Want to play dolls?”

  “Sure,” replied Nancy. “I will go get my Barbies.”

  But Mommy said, “Can you girls wait half an hour? Karen, I want to talk to you and Andrew about something first.”

  “Oh, okay,” I said. “Nancy, I will call you later.”

  Mommy and Andrew and I went inside. Mommy fixed us a snack and we sat around the kitchen table. I was beginning to feel nervous.

  “Mommy? Is this bad news?” I asked.

  “No,” she replied. “But it is serious. Your father and I know that you two wish you could spend more time with Daddy.”

  “Equal time,” spoke up Andrew. “That is fair. Like taking turns.”

  “You’re right,” said Mommy. “But we had made other arrangements. Also, I like spending lots of time with you. I love both of you very much. Anyway, because I love you, I want you to be happy. So Daddy and I have been talking to each other about this. And we have been talking to our lawyers. And guess what. I think we will be able to arrange for equal time. You two are very lucky. You are in a special situation. Daddy and I live very near to each other. Coming and going is easy
for you. You do not have to change schools if we change the custody arrangements. And Daddy and I are on good terms. We talk to each other a lot. Not all divorced kids are so lucky. That is why I think switching to equal time will work out.”

  “Yes!” I cried. I jumped out of my chair. I raised my fist in the air.

  “Yes! Yes! Yes!” cried Andrew. He jumped up, too.

  “Now hold on,” said Mommy. (But she was smiling.) “This is not definite yet. Before it can happen, a judge wants to talk to the two of you.”

  “A judge?” repeated Andrew. He frowned.

  “Kind of like the principal at school,” I told Andrew. “The person who is really in charge. Even in charge of the lawyers. The head person.”

  “Also a person who has a lot of experience making fair decisions,” added Mommy.

  “Why does the judge want to talk to us?” I asked.

  “To make sure she makes the very best decision possible. The judge knows what Daddy and I think, and she knows what our lawyers think. Now she wants to hear what you have to say. Then she will decide on the arrangements that will make everybody the happiest. She will just ask you some questions. All you have to do is answer them honestly. Tell her what you truly feel and what you truly want.”

  * * *

  Our talk with the judge took place several days later. Andrew and I sat with her all by ourselves at a little table in a quiet room. Mommy and Daddy waited right outside. The judge was nice. She was young. She looked a little like my teacher, Ms. Colman. And she smiled a lot. She asked us questions about school and our friends and our two families.

  “Easy questions!” Andrew said later. (No matter what I told him, he thought the judge was going to ask hard questions, like math problems.)

  Not long after we talked with the judge, Mommy and Daddy and Andrew and I went to a coffee shop together. Just the four of us. Just like when we used to be a family.