How to Ruin Series Part 15

"You broke up with Marc?" I say with a sigh of relief. "Finally."

"No, silly. Marc asked me to marry him last night. And I said yes."

"What!" I say as my heart sinks into my chest. This is not happening to me.

"It's so exciting," she says, oblivious to the fact that I'm totally freaking out here.

"He had this special dinner planned. The ring was at the bottom of my champagne gla.s.s."

"He's a dork, Mom." Definitely NOT dad material. The ring at the bottom of the champagne gla.s.s is so cliche.

"He's one of the top real estate developers in the country. The new project on the Gold Coast, the most sought-after location in Chicago, is being done by his firm."

"So? We only have one parking spot for our condo. There's no room for his Mercedes," I say.

"I thought we'd look in the suburbs for a place. You know, something bigger . . .

with a backyard and everything."

Huh? "As in you're moving to the 'burbs?"

"Isn't that wonderful!"

"Where does that leave me?

Homeless?"

"Of course not, honey. Don't be ridiculous. Your home is with me and Marc."

Since when did "you and me" become "you, me, and Marc"?

Nice to know I'm important enough to consult with.

"Marc hates me, Mom." Right about now I feel as if everybody hates me.

"He does not. You haven't given him a fair chance."

I swallow hard and try not to cry.

"I know it's a shock to you, but I swear it's the best thing for us. We'll be a family."

I swear I'm going to hurl. A family? But Marc isn't my family.

"I thought you'd be happy. After you come back from Israel, you can help me plan for the wedding and look for a new house. We'll make a fresh start, the three of us."

I don't want a fresh start, I want an old start.

"I love you," she says.

If she loved me so much she would've thought before going ahead and s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g up my plans.

I have a huge lump in my throat when I say, "Congratulations. I love you, too."

"Bye, sweetheart. Call me next week, okay?" she says. "I just want us to be happy."

"Me, too," I say, then hang up. Happy is all in the eye of the beholder.

I march out of the house and spot Ron by an old, green tractor parked in the back of the house.

"You blew it!" I yell.

He has the audacity to look at me without saying anything.

I cross my arms in front of my chest.

"Just keep standing there silent, Ron. You do that really well."

"What are you talking about?"

"I was just informed that Mom's dork boyfriend proposed to her. Couldn't you have proposed? It would have been nice to have my parents married; at the very least to say my parents were married at one point in time. But you were too selfish and worried about making sure you achieved the American Dream while basking in bachelorhood. You never fought for us.

Worse, you never fought for me."

There, I finally said it. It may have taken me sixteen years and an att.i.tude to cover up my insecurities, but I finally spilled the truth.

He blinks a couple of times, then says, "She's getting married?"

"I just said that, didn't I?"

He takes a deep breath, then sits on the b.u.mper of the tractor. "Don't think I didn't fight, Amy. I asked her to marry me. And not just once. Before you were born and practically every time I saw her after your birth I got down on my knee. You were too busy running away from me to realize it."

"If, and I mean if you did propose, why didn't it happen? You were a commando, for G.o.d's sake. You're specially trained to get the mission accomplished."

He takes a long, deep breath. "She said she didn't want you growing up seeing a loveless marriage. She wanted to find a solid guy to be your fadder, not some Israeli immigrant. Every time I came to see you, I'd get a letter from her fadder threatening to tell the INS to cancel my visa. He accused me of getting her pregnant on purpose, to secure my American citizens.h.i.+p by marrying her. It wasn't true, but I feared never seeing you again. He was a powerful man, Amy."

He looks at me with a pained expression. "I don't expect you to understand."

"I do and I don't," I say, confused.

"When you told me to stop coming around, I didn't know what they'd told you about me. I just wanted a relations.h.i.+p with you, even if it was once a year."

"You're a real disappointment," I say.

I.

expect the you-must-respect-me- because-I'm-your-parent lecture, but instead Ron says, "You're right."

I'm shocked but say, "d.a.m.n straight I'm right. Maybe there's still a chance with Mom. You can call her and-"

"It's not going to change anything," he says, "and you know it. Deep down, you know she won't marry me."

"I feel so alone," I say, almost in a whisper.

"I love you," he says back. "It doesn't matter that you don't call me 'dad' or want to hug me. I've wanted that, but I want your friends.h.i.+p and trust even more."

This is a lot of information for me in one day. I need some time to digest it.

"I'm going to stay in Israel for the summer," I finally tell him. "Maybe we can, oh, I don't know."

The beginning of a smile tips the corners of his mouth.

With a shake of my head I say, "Don't get too excited, I'm still upset."

"I'm glad you're staying."

I turn around and head back into the house and into my bedroom.

Snotty is there.

Honestly, she's the last person I want to see. I remember I told her something about having small b.o.o.bs or something like that, but it seems so long ago. I plop myself down on my bed.

"Are you packed?" she asks, bending over her backpack while putting things inside.

I lean back on my elbows. "For what?"

She turns around, those black-charcoal circles directed right at me. "Camping.

You said you were going."

Laying back down on the bed, I say, "I lied."

"Just like an American."

"Excuse me? What's that supposed to mean?"

"Israelis say what we mean. You Americans just talk without meaning anything you say."

"We do not!" Geez, everyone is on my case lately. "For your information, I'm proud to be American. We may not always do or say the right thing, but what can you expect? n.o.body wants to police the world, so they look to us to do it for them. We save everyone else's a.s.s and then get blamed for it. Real fair, isn't it?"

Now I sound like an amba.s.sador for the U.S.

Snotty lifts her backpack over her shoulder and walks out of the room.

"Shalom, Amy. We're leaving in ten minutes."

She leaves me with two choices: prove Snotty wrong and go on the camping trip to save face. Or stay on the moshav with nothing to do except herd bald sheep with Ron and Uncle Chime.

I walk into Safta's room and sit on the edge of her bed. My entire screwed-up life comes to a head and I'm completely confused.

"I need your advice."

She smiles warmly at me, like always. I am so happy to have her in my life, even if we did get a late start on getting to know each other.

"You see, it's like this," I say. I take a deep breath and let it all out as I talk. "My mom wants to marry her boyfriend, this guy I don't particularly like. Ron . . . you know, your son, has been a disappointment to me because to be honest he hasn't been a permanent fixture in my life. I resent them both, and I'm confused about who I am and where I fit in. And to top it off, O'snot is going on a trip with her friends, and I kind of want to get away and prove to her I'm capable, so I'm considering it."

Safta nods her head in thought, obviously understanding my predicament and giving it serious consideration.

"For a sixteen-year-old girl, you have a lot to deal with."

I let out another long breath. "Ain't that the truth."

"Maybe you need some time away. I think the camping trip is a good idea. Israel is a magical place, Amy. You just might find what you're looking for."

She's right. I need to get away from reality for a while. I kiss Safta on her cheek and head out of the room. But I stop at the door, turn around, and say, "I'm glad you're my Safta."

She tilts her head and smiles. "Me, too."

18.

Did you ever get the feeling you were outnumbered?

My heart is racing as I spot an empty backpack on the foot of my bed. I must not have noticed it was there. It was probably left for me. I hurry and stuff some clothes into the bag and head outside.

When I get to the front of the house, all of the teenagers are climbing into the back of an open Jeep. It's like a flatbed truck, but not. It has a cab part up front and in the back is like a flatbed, but it has seats on both sides and rails on top of the truck.

I catch sight of Snotty and she gives me this half-smile. Yeah, yeah. I know. She realizes now she has the upper hand because she kind of duped me into going on this trip. Kind of. It was really my decision all along to come.

Ron comes up to me. "I don't want you going," he says. "You're too young and are going through a lot right now."

Realizing everyone is already in the car and just watching us have it out, I freeze.

"Are you telling me I can't go?"

"I'm not saying that . . . exactly."

"I want to go."

Avi, who was in the driver's seat, gets out of the car and walks up to Ron. He takes Ron to the side of the house, away from my earshot. I wonder what he's saying. I wonder what they're both saying.

I watch as Ron and Avi shake hands after a few minutes. Then Avi walks up to me. I can tell he's not in a good mood.

"What?" I say.