Apart at the Seams Read Online Free

rolls.”
    â€œToday?”
    He bobbed his head. I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose, that spot where my headaches always start. This was not going to be a good day. Definitely not. I did an about-face and headed for the garage with Bobby trailing behind.
    â€œWhy didn’t you tell me before?” I asked as I pried the top off the plastic bin where I keep empty toilet and paper towel rolls, egg cartons, and oatmeal boxes—the stuff of which elementary school art projects are made.
    â€œI forgot.”
    Of course he did.
    Bobby is my baby, so sweet you could spread him on toast. He’s also the most forgetful child on the face of the earth. Seriously. He forgets to take his lunch and bring home his spelling words. He forgets to brush his teeth, wear underwear, and turn off the faucet. Also to take the plug out of the drain, which can be a problem.
    Bethany wasn’t like this when she was seven. Of course, Bethany grew up fast. She had to. I still feel bad about that, but I’m doing the best I can, trying to make up for lost time.
    I dug through the bin, counting cardboard toilet-paper tubes. “We’ve only got twelve.”
    Bobby’s eyes went wide. “But I need twenty-two! I was supposed to bring them on Wednesday but I forgot! Mrs. Oneglia said if I didn’t bring them today I’d have to stay in at recess. What am I going to do?”
    â€œI guess you’re going to stay in at recess,” I said, snapping the lid back onto the bin.
    â€œCouldn’t you go to the store and—”
    â€œBobby. I am not buying ten rolls of bathroom tissue and pulling the paper off them just so you can have the empty tubes. I’m sorry, Bear, but you’re just going to have to man up and face the music this time.”
    Bobby’s eyes filled. I felt terrible, but I have to start being a little tougher on Bobby. It’s not easy. Every time I look at his face, I remember that happy, chubby-cheeked toddler wearing that knitted brown hat with the teddy bear ears on the top, the hat that spawned his nickname, Bobby Bear—Bear for short—and I just want to squeeze him.
    I’ve babied him too much, I know. I guess I just wanted him to have an easier time of it than Bethany. She doesn’t like to talk about it, but she remembers how it was living with her dad. She saw him hit me, felt my fear, remembers the day he hit her too. She remembers running, living in shelters and the car, afraid that he’d find us one day, afraid of what would happen when he did.
    Bobby doesn’t. He was only eighteen months old when we ran. Bobby is carefree, happy-go-lucky, and I’ve wanted to keep him that way. Maybe a little too much.
    â€œHoney, you’ve got to start planning ahead. Maybe staying in at recess will help you remember to do that next time.”
    Bobby sniffled and swiped at his nose with the back of his hand. Little boys can be so icky.
    â€œOkay,” he mumbled and trudged off, shoulders drooping. Poor baby.
    â€œWash your hands!” I called to him before resuming the search for my daughter.
    â€œBethany,” I said when I found her, standing in the kitchen, staring at the toaster. “The computer won’t boot up. I’ve got to print out my paper before class tonight. Can you fix it?”
    The toaster dinged, and a pastry popped out of the slot. Bethany grabbed it. “Can’t. There’s an early rehearsal for the spelling bee.”
    â€œFor a spelling bee? What’s to rehearse?”
    Bethany pulled a paper towel off the roll and wrapped the breakfast pastry in it. “I don’t know. Mr. Zwicker said that all the finalists have to be there, or we don’t get to spell. You’re coming, aren’t you? It’s at two-thirty.”
    â€œOf course,” I said. Truthfully, I’d forgotten about it, but I knew that Evelyn, my boss, would be fine with me taking off an hour. That’s