Diary of a Stage Mother's Daughter: A Memoir by Melissa Francis Page B

out.
    “Hey, so I saved you from spending the night at school today,” Tiffany said.
    “Yeah?”
    “Mom was lying on her bed eating chips and I asked her who was driving you home. She shot to her feet like I’d lit something on fire. So classic,” Tiffany said shaking her head in disdain.
    “Yeah, I could tell she just completely forgot to come get me,” I said, stroking Alondra’s blonde mane. I hadn’t fully recovered from being abandoned at school. The helplessness I’d felt while sitting alone on the bench still stung.
    “Don’t feel bad, I’m going to get thrown out of my carpool, she’s forgotten us so many times. Maybe I could set a timer for her in the morning. She does absolutely nothing all day long. All she has to do is pick us up!” Tiffany laughed, though neither of us really thought it was funny.
    “I just don’t get it,” Tiffany continued. “I would be bored watching TV all day. There’s nothing on. Dina loves Days of Our Lives , but seriously, nothing happens on that show. You could miss it for two weeks and come back and they are all still in the same clothes, doing the same scene.”
    “It would be awful to be on that show,” I agreed. “They do totally wear the same clothes for weeks. How do they keep the wardrobe clean that long? I guess they must have a dozen sets of the same outfit for emergencies or spills or whatever. And do they never get their hair cut? The continuity person must go crazy. It’s like that movie I did where it was the same day for the entire shoot. Scavenger Hunt . I spent weeks and weeks in the same pants and T-shirt. I never wanted to see that outfit again when that movie ended.”
    Tiffany looked thoughtful as our horses ambled next to each other. “The cute guy from The A-Team was in that movie. What was his name? Dirk Benedict! Is that a real name? Either way, he was super hot. That movie kind of sucked though.”
    “I know. It seemed like it was going to be funny.”
    “I remember Mom laughing nonstop when she read the script. No one laughed in the theater though. But you were cute in it.” Tiffany dropped her reins altogether and her horse’s head sank almost to the dirt bridle path in front of us. “Mom is only happy when you’re working,” she said.
    “I know.”
    “She says, ‘We’re making money, not spending money.’ ”
    “I wonder how much money we’ve made. Like, all together. Both us. Our whole lives? It must be millions.”
    “She’ll never tell us.” Tiffany’s voice filled with contempt. More and more often these days I heard that tone in her voice whenever she talked about Mom.
    “Do you have any idea how much we make a day? Or a week? Maybe we could add up how many days we’ve worked?” I wondered aloud.
    “No idea. I’m not even sure Dad knows. Mom puts all the checks into our accounts at Security Pacific Bank. I wonder if the tellers would tell us if we went in?”
    “Probably not. Ah, who cares.” I let Alondra’s head sink and dropped my feet from my stirrups, letting my calves stretch after the ride. I stretched my arms over my head, trusting Alondra not to run off while I twisted my tired back, vulnerably off balance.
    Our horses lengthened their strides as we turned back toward the barn. The sun sank low behind the rolling hills and a gentle breeze blew in from the ocean on the other side of the mountains. The peace and tranquility of the night enveloped us.
    “We’d better put them back in their stalls for the night. I’m sure Mom’s getting antsy,” Tiffany said as we reluctantly made the final turn and headed in.
     
     
    When we pulled up to the house, our cocker spaniel, KC, did not come out to greet us. Usually when we pulled into the driveway, the headlights caught him hopping out of his dog bed, tucked into the protection of our front porch. He never failed to greet us.
    I got out of the car and went over to the porch to see if he was there, just moving more slowly than usual. Nothing. Then I