Three Good Things Read Online Free Page A

pocket. “What would
you like to do today?”
    Sounds strange coming from her lips. The zoo? A wander through the mall? A movie? That’s what any kid in a normal family might answer. Me, I hand her a breakfast bar
from the emergency stash in my bag. “Have something to eat. Then take your pills,
and we’ll go find coffee.”
    She swallows a handful before I can check what she’s taken, slurping water from the
bathroom tap. Then she starts on the routine with her supplements. She holds out
a handful of tiny white pills. “Vitamin D is good for your bones. Improves mood too.”
    “There’s nothing wrong with my mood.” I break an apple in half and give her a piece.
    “Maybe I’ll stay here.” She puts the apple on the bedside table and stretches out
on the bed again. “It’s raining.”
    “How can you tell? You haven’t been outside for hours.”
    “Ever heard of the Weather Channel?”
    I pull back one of the drapes. “It’s not raining. And we need groceries. Proper food
for a change.” I hold out her jacket. “Put this on.”
    “You said it wasn’t raining.”
    “Do it for me, would you? It will be cold, even if it’s not raining.” I sound like
a kindergarten teacher.
    She shrugs it on and hauls her purse over her shoulder. “Let’s go, then, if we’re
going.”
    I herd her out of the room and lock the door behind us. “We need gas,” she says as
we walk past the car. “We’ll get cash on the way. When’s the check due?”
    “There’s enough in the account for the next few days anyway.”
    She never reads the receipts when we withdraw cash.
    “We’ll tighten our belts, that’s what we’ll do,” she says cheerfully. “Come on then.
Show me this park you told me about.”
    When we get there, Mom looks around happily as she settles onto the bench. I hand
her half of the apple and listen to her take one bite at a time, chew for a bit,
then spit out the skin into her hand.
    “You think you can climb that?” She nods toward the jungle gym.
    “I could. But I don’t want to.”
    “Go on.”
    “No, Mom. I don’t want to.”
    “Always such a wuss. Other kids? They play lacrosse. Do gymnastics. You just spend
your life at the library. Go on. Or maybe you’re afraid of heights.”
    “You climb it.”
    “All right. I will.” She flicks her apple core onto the grass.
    I pick it up and dump it in the overflowing garbage can. “I didn’t mean it!”
    Instead of taking it one rung at a time from the outside, she crawls into the middle
and grabs the highest bar. “Have to warm up before I take this on,” she tells me,
as if she’s about to climb Everest.
    “Okay. Okay. I’ll show you how it’s done.” I clamber up the bars from the outside.
“You going to join me?” I ask from the top. I am already regretting playing her crazy
game.
    Mom wiggles through, until she’s sitting hunched next to me. “This is cozy.”
    “Not the word I would use.” The bars are hard on my skinny butt.
    When I see a woman walking her dog toward us, I’m off in seconds. “Come on down now.”
    “I like it up here,” says Mom.
    “Come on. Please.”
    The woman is closer now. More interested in us than in her dog.
    “Mom!”
    “What?”
    “There’s probably some rule about kids only on this stuff.”
    “Do you see a sign?” She looks around.
    There is no sign. But the woman is getting closer by the second.
    “Good morning!” Mom sings out.
    “Good morning,” the dog walker calls back. “The number of times I’ve been tempted
to give that a try!”
    I sigh a breath of relief.
    “You’d have to lose a few pounds first,” Mom tells her. “Thirty, maybe, if you plan
to make it up here.”
    My stomach clenches. “Mom!”
    The woman goes red and totters off without looking back.
    “What?” Mom peers down at me. “What did I do?”
    I stare at her.
    “Well?”
    I shake my head. “Nothing, Mom. Absolutely nothing.” I give her a hand down. “Let’s
just sit here for a