Two or Three Things I Forgot to Tell You Read Online Free PDF Page A

Merissa was freshly bathed, dressed, and cute .
    But that was years ago. When Daddy seemed to have more time to be at home with his little family, and to care .
    Merissa tried to remember when Daddy first began to seem not so much to care .
    When Merissa had been in middle school, maybe. Eighth grade.
    Already, she’d been too tall. Towering over some of the shorter boys.
    Being pretty—(Merissa had always been “pretty”)—didn’t matter so much if you were self-conscious, insecure. There were less attractive girls, like Brooke Kramer, who behaved as if they were good-looking and entitled to attention.
    If Merissa had earned only “good” grades at school—B-plus, A-minus—her father wouldn’t have been impressed. It took really Good News—top achievements—to get his interest. And even so, he rarely asked Merissa about her classes, her teachers, what she was actually doing/learning—he hadn’t yet had time to read “Our Environment, Ourselves” as posted on the Scientific American website.
    At Class Day the previous June, when Merissa Carmichael had been called to the stage as one of just five Quaker Heights “Outstanding Students” of the year, her father hadn’t even been in the audience.
    Of course, Merissa’s mother had been there.
    Virtually everyone’s mother had been there.
    Merissa’s birthday was September 5. Not an ideal time for a birthday, so close to Labor Day.
    Merissa had always felt deprived of attention, anyway of enough attention—too much happening at once at the start of the school year.
    Her girlfriends helped her celebrate. And Mom always made a fuss over her birthday.
    This year, Daddy had been damned sorry he had to be away—traveling on business to Chicago, then Atlanta. But he’d remembered to call Merissa on her cell phone just before dinner that night to wish her “Happy seventeenth birthday.”
    â€œThanks, Dad! I’m flattered you got my age right.”
    There was a moment’s startled silence at the other end of the line.
    (Was Daddy’s girl being sarcastic ?)
    â€œJust kidding, Dad. I’m really glad to hear from you . . . and miss you like crazy.”
    Merissa’s mother was disappointed, too. And maybe just a little surprised.
    But determined to be cheerful and uncomplaining—understanding, upbeat.
    â€œDaddy is really, really sorry, Merissa—you could hear it in his voice. It just breaks his heart to miss so many—to miss special times with his family.”
    Merissa’s mother suggested that Merissa invite her closest friends from school to have dinner with them that night, but Merissa said no thanks!
    Her friends had already treated her to a really nice lunch at a restaurant in town, and they’d given her presents, and Merissa had told them that her birthday dinner was that night, just her mom and dad.
    Merissa’s mother persisted. “Well, maybe just call Hannah? She’s such a sweet girl. . . .”
    You don’t know Hannah any more than you knew Tink. Or me.
    â€œIt’s late notice, of course, but I’m sure that Hannah would love to come over for a while at least. There’s plenty of food; we can eat in the family room, you could watch a DVD. . . . We could even invite Hannah’s mother—she might be free, if her husband isn’t home.”
    â€œMom, thanks! Sounds great, except I really don’t want to ‘double date’—Hannah and me, and you and Mrs. Heller.” Merissa spoke lightly, but inside she was trembling with rage.
    Wanting to tell her mother, If Daddy doesn’t love me, nobody else matters. What do I care about anybody else?
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    That night Merissa worked herself into an anxious state, unable to sleep. The little (secret) wounds on her body were smarting and hurting, and she was just slightly frightened that one or two of them were