Bonus

Rachel awoke not long after my exchange of instant messages with May.

Yesterday, Lucy took Rachel to a movie for her last afternoon in New York. On the sly, the kids and I shopped for gifts for Rachel’s birthday.

Having recently had such a fine pseudo-birthday experience at my preferred Indian restaurant, I suggested we go there for a family dinner in honor of Rachel’s seventeenth.

Rachel had not been there, and she got a kick out of the light-encrusted atmosphere. Lucy was in good spirits, and we got along swimmingly—each doing our utmost as we swam in Kingfisher beer.

The kids fawned on Rachel, jockeying for seats next to her. The waiters gave Rachel the full Bollywood “happy birthday” treatment, to her great embarrassment and pleasure. Collie and I set that up that surprise in secret; he is a superb co-conspirator.

It was hard on Collie and Lillie when we ended the evening. They had to go home with their mom and Jason, and resume school the next morning. They were in tears as we said good night.

Rachel came back to my place for one last night before she headed home. She called her mom to make plans for her return. She hung up and came to me crying, saying she wasn’t ready to go home. Could she stay another night or two?

I was surprised by her tears. Of course, I said, if it’s okay with your mom. This is your home too. I called her mother, who was equally bewildered by Rachel’s sadness. We agreed it was fine for her to stay.

Rachel put her head on my lap, and I rubbed her back. “I’m sorry, I think I pulled a Collie,” she said, referring to his sadness about returning to “real” life. “I don’t know why I was so sad, but I’m just not ready to leave.”

It was a very busy and emotional weekend, I said. And it all happened so fast. You may just need time to decompress.

We hung out until all hours, and discovered a marathon “Battle for Ozzfest” on MTV.

Rachel spent several late-night hours on the phone with her boyfriend, so she was thinking about communication when she woke up.

“Did you hear back from May?” she asked, as I brewed coffee. She knew things were rough with us this month, and that I had not heard back from my phone message the day before.

I told her that May had just broken up with me via instant messages.

“Dad, that’s messed up.” She thought a moment. “You need to hook up with Samantha. She is hot, and she’s tall—like Daryl Hannah.”

About that time, I got a text message from May:

“We need 2 talk when we aren’t angry.”

I wasn’t angry. I replied:

“I’m busy with Rachel today. I don’t have time for break up/make up bullshit.”

The phone rang immediately. It was May. I ignored it.

Rachel was eating a bowl of Frosted Mini-Wheats. “Any idea what you want to do today, Rachel?”

“Is the new Museum of Modern Art cool?” she asked.

“Let’s find out,” I suggested.