Chapter 1

When Charlie got close to his house after walking home from school, he noticed that his father's car was in the driveway and knew that it could mean nothing good. After climbing the corporate ladder all day, his father usually did not arrive home until well after nine o'clock in the evening.

"Hi," Charlie greeted his father, after dropping his book bag by the front door and kicking his shoes off. "Why are you home so early?"

"Charlie! Good, you're home," his father said, anger clearly in his voice.

Charlie walked into the living room and saw his mother standing near his father with the same angry look on her face that his father had. He looked toward her, but her face gave nothing away.

"I finally received that promotion I've been working for! I am the new Senior Vice President of Operations!" Steve Gray told his son.

"That's great, Dad," Charlie said, when he realized that he was expected to say something.

"By this time next month I will be living in San Francisco settling into my new home," Steve told them.

"San Francisco?" Charlie asked.

"Yes. That is where this promotion is taking me," he said.

"I'm not moving to San Francisco," Linda told Charlie in an even voice.

"Why?" Charlie wanted to know.

Linda looked at her husband and flicked her eyes toward their son, but did not say anything.

Steve looked at Charlie and back at Linda. "Uh, Charlie," he said, grabbing his wallet and pulling a twenty dollar bill out. "Why don't you see if Jenny wants to get a pizza with you?"

Charlie knew his parents were having problems. How could he miss it with all the arguments that they had recently been having. He thought this was just another one of those problems they were working out, but took the money and sadly looked at his mother as he walked toward the front door.

When Tracy Olson and her daughter, Jenny, moved next door two years ago, Jenny and he became good friends, and although everyone considered them boyfriend and girlfriend, they did not. Tracy and his mother also became close friends.

"Hi, Charlie," Tracy said, greeting him and allowing him to enter her home. "Jenny, Charlie is here," she called over her shoulder.

Tracy looked at the fifteen-year-old boy and saw immediately that something was amiss. The look in his eye and the slump of his shoulders told her that something was really bothering him. "What's wrong?" she asked.

"Hi," Jenny said, walking around the corner and into her living room.

"Hey," he listlessly responded.

"What's wrong?" she asked, with genuine concern.

"Nothing, everything, I don't know," was his reply.

"Sit down," Tracy told him, and guided him to the sofa. "Please, tell us."

Charlie did not look at either of them. He kept his face down and drew a deep breath. He slowly let his breath out and took another one before speaking.

"Dad got the promotion he's been wanting," he started.

"That's great, but why the sad face?" Tracy asked.

"I found out a few minutes ago that he would be moving to San Francisco."

"Oh," Tracy said, her own face falling, and when Jenny looked at her, she saw that the color drained from her face. "I see," Tracy mumbled.

"Mom told him that she is not moving to San Francisco."

"Really?" Jenny asked him.

Charlie raised his head and looked at his girlfriend. A tear threatened to fall from the corner of one eye, as a ragged breath caught in his throat. He watched as her mother walked away from them. "I think they are going to get a divorce."

Jenny lowered her head and stared at her hands. Then slowly, and in a low voice, spoke, "When my mom and dad divorced, I thought my life was over."

She felt Charlie tense and took his hand. When their eyes met, she continued, "It is never easy on anyone, but you will get through it. I will be here whenever you need to talk."

Tracy walked to the kitchen and looked out the window toward the Grays' house. She could not help but to think back to a conversation she and Linda had two weeks ago.

"What would you do, Tracy?" Linda had asked her friend.

"What do you mean?" she responded.

"If your husband left the house at 6:30 every morning, and did not return again until 9:00 that night!"

"Well, I don't think I'm the one you should be asking," Tracy remembered telling her friend.

"I mean, I wait all day for him to come home just to talk to him. When he gets here, he has that damned cell phone glued to his ear for at least twenty minutes. When he finally hangs up, I'm lucky to get a five minute conversation out of him, and that is only if something extraordinary has happened that day."

"Like I said, Linda, I don't think I'm the one you should be asking," Tracy said.

"And sex! Ha! The last time we had anything but a wham bam thank you ma'am was six months ago, at least," Linda said, looking at her friend. "I'm telling you, if it wasn't for Bob, I would have no sex at all."

"Bob?" Tracy asked.

"You know. My battery operated boyfriend?"

"Oh my," Tracy said, with a grin.

Linda sighed. There was more she wanted to tell her friend, but thought this was not the time or place to go into details. "I want a divorce."

Tracy slowly lowered her cup and thought carefully before she responded. "You need to really think that through before you make any decisions, Linda."

"I have, Tracy," Linda said, in low voice, "Believe me, I have."

Tracy sighed and was brought back to the present by movement at the Grays' front door. A few minutes later, she turned and walked back to the living room.

"Charlie," she said, as she saw the two fifteen-year-olds pull away from each other. "I just saw your dad put three suitcases in his car and drive away."

Charlie hung his head and remained quiet. He really didn't know what to think, or what the future had in store for either him or his mother.

"Maybe we should go see if your mother needs anything," Tracy told him.

XXXXXXX

Charlie dialed his dad's cell number one more time. This had to be the hundredth time he tried calling him in the three weeks since he left and moved to San Francisco, and got his voicemail once again.

"Okay, okay, Asshole!" Charlie angrily said into his cell. "I get the point; you don't want to talk to me. Fine! Don't fucking call me, don't fucking e-mail me, and don't fucking text me. What you can do is fuck the hell off!"

Never before had he ever came close to swearing in front of his parents, especially not to them, but he was pissed. Until his father drove away three weeks ago, his father never let his calls go unanswered. If they went into voicemail, it wasn't long before Charlie got a call and an apology. Now, it seemed his father couldn't care less.

Charlie walked into his house and started down the hallway toward his bedroom. He was about to step though the door when movement got his eye, and he turned his head toward his mother's bedroom. His mother had just pulled her sweater over her head and was standing in the middle of her bedroom floor. Her arms were straight down in front of her, with her sweater still in her hands.

Chapter 2 »