Better Than Perfect Read Online Free PDF Page A

nobody’s fault. I know that’s hard to believe, but it’s the only answer I have for you.” It was what he always said when I asked him to explain what was going on, but this time I stared at him, not saying anything, a terrifying idea suddenly overwhelming me. Was there some awful secret thatmy parents were keeping from me?
    I kept staring. Like my mother, my father was very good-looking. His hair had some gray in it, but it was still thick, unlike most of my friends’ fathers’. He wore vaguely hipster glasses and, like my mother, he spent money on expensive clothes.
    Had he been having an affair?
    My dad was still talking. “. . . and I’m sorry, Juliet. What matters is that your mom and I both still love you and Oliver very much. We’re still your parents even though we’re not together anymore.”
    He was waiting for me to say something, but the possibility that he’d been unfaithful to my mother was too awful for me to speak it. Instead, I cleared my throat, then forced myself to joke, “Did you get that from a book or something?”
    â€œWhat gave it away?” My dad grinned at me and reached over to tousle my hair. “Come on. If we walk a couple of blocks, we can get an ice cream cone for less than four dollars.”
    At the end of lunch, my dad had promised we’d see a lot of each other, more than we had when he was living at the house. We’d agreed to have dinner once a week—either he’d come out to Long Island or I’d stay in Manhattan and meet him after work.
    The first week, he’d canceled because of a work dinner. The second week, he’d had to be out of town until Wednesday night, and he’d asked if I could do Thursday, but I’d said I had my SAT tutor. The third week, the same thing had happened,except he’d asked if we could do Tuesday night.
    â€œI. Have. My. SAT. Tutor,” I’d said, slowly and carefully, like maybe he wasn’t a native English speaker.
    â€œI know you have an SAT tutor. I’m sorry, but I thought it was Thursday night, not Tuesday night. Last week it was Thursday. So shoot me.”
    â€œNo, Dad. Last week it was Tuesday and Thursday. And the week before that. And the week before that. In fact, I’ve been meeting my SAT tutor Tuesday and Thursday nights for the past six months . So shoot me . Or, wait. You’re probably too busy to do that, either.”
    He ignored my sarcasm. “What about Saturday night?”
    â€œDad, I want to see my friends on Saturday night. It’s the one night everyone doesn’t have to be home early.”
    We’d agreed to have dinner this coming Wednesday. But now, here he was.
    As soon as my dad was next to me, he reached for my hand. Unlike my mom, my dad didn’t look physically different from how he’d looked before. His hair was the same, and he was wearing a blue shirt and a pair of khakis. He’d probably been at work. He and my mom had sometimes fought about how much he worked. “Are you all right?” he asked.
    â€œSeriously?” I asked, pulling my hand from his.
    â€œI’m sorry.” He shook his head. “I meant . . . well, you know what I meant.”
    I didn’t, actually, but before I could ask him, the socialworker extended her hand and said, “I’m Jordyn Phillips.” I wasn’t sure if she was intentionally interrupting my father and me or if she hadn’t picked up on the tension between us.
    He shook her hand. “My sister-in-law called me and said my wife is here.”
    My father used to refer to my mother as his wife all the time. I believe my wife made a reservation. . . . I’m looking for my wife. . . . Have you met my wife? But now his saying my mother was his wife felt dishonest, even though I knew that technically they were still married.
    I said nothing about their separation, not even when Ms. Phillips said, “Mr. Newman, your wife