A Good Divorce Read Online Free PDF

chrome and vinyl kitchen table set. They’d finally see how the other half of the world lived, how you had to stack your clothesbasket on top of the washer to save your place in line, how you could listen to Happy Days through the ceiling without turning on your TV. They’d marvel at the dart holes in the walls, the iron burns on the linoleum drain board, and the warped ceiling tiles with broken corners from previous falls.
    â€œWhere is Derek going to sleep?” Justine asked, as she dropped her rainbow overnight bag onto the sagging single bed in the second bedroom. Seven years older than her little brother, she was used to getting her way. At school it was a different story, of course, where deference to peers and popularity were more important. Justine had a natural beauty like her mom’s, with good lips and straw-blonde hair that she felt compelled to shampoo every morning. She wore risers to make her look taller.
    â€œYou’re both in here,” I said. “One of you can sleep on the cot until we get another bed. For tonight, you can sleep in the same bed.”
    â€œNo way,” Derek said. “I’m not sleeping with her. She kicks.”
    Justine bared her teeth like a mule. “I don’t either.”
    â€œMaybe we need to take the tour one more time,” I said, despite Jude’s admonition that sarcasm wasn’t a good teaching tool. “I only counted the master bedroom and this one.”
    â€œYou don’t need the biggest bedroom,” Justine said, “with you and Mom splitting up.”
    â€œThey might not,” Derek said, his Nike athletic bag still on his shoulder. Magpie had parked herself at Derek’s feet and was still panting with the excitement of a new set of smells.
    Justine sat down on the bed, daring Derek to put his bag on it. She studied the watermarks on the wall where the moisture had flared into a series of rusty stains. “Well Mom’s sure not going to live in this dump.”
    Derek peeked up at me through the reddish shock of hair that had fallen over his right eye to see what I was going to do. Despite Jude’s work, he was pure boy, always getting into fights on the playground over yo-yo and spitting contests. A gang of kids had once jumped him for name-calling and banged his forehead against the sidewalk so hard they knocked him out. I knew that Justine’s challenge was a defining moment for this new relationship and so did Derek. It was about time for a dose of the real me.
    â€œThink about what you just said, Justine.”
    She rolled her eyes and folded her legs under her. “What?”
    â€œDo you even remember what you said?”
    â€œDump,” Derek said.
    â€œI know,” Justine said. “So?”
    I was beginning to realize how much we’d spoiled them, with ski lessons, ski vacations, and their own record players. Of course, Jude had insisted that we gender cross-train them so Justine took drum lessons, Derek the violin, Justine weights, and Derek had a diary with a key. Inadvertently, we’d also taught them to argue in the voices of their mom and dad. “So how many apartments have you been in?” I said.
    Justine started counting silently on her fingers as she gazed up at the ceiling. A sooty cobweb clung to the bouquet wallpaper in the corner. “Ugh!”
    â€œShe’s changing the subject,” Derek said.
    â€œNo I’m not,” she said. “I’ve been in lots.”
    â€œName them,” Derek said.
    â€œDerek,” I said, and he sat down on his bag and put his chin in his hands.
    I turned back to Justine, who sat stiff-spined. “Do you know that more people live in apartments than houses? Ninety-five percent of the children in the world would beg to live in a place half this nice. Hot and cold running water. Electricity at your fingertips. Paned glass windows. Insulation. Carpeted floors. Refrigeration.”
    â€œDo they all