The Grown Ups by Robin Antalek

particular discussion with her mother right now. Her once-white sneakers were now gray and smelly from being caught in too many rainstorms and wading at the shore, and were decorated with designs in Sharpie marker. The laces were shredded and the rubber was worn off in places. But she didn’t want a new pair. She hated the look of new sneakers. “Do you want a bowl of ice cream?” she asked abruptly, standing without waiting for an answer. It was mean, this upper hand that she played, and she knew it and regretted it, but it still didn’t prevent her from doing it.
    She took the carton of vanilla from the freezer and scoopeduntil her hand hurt. She filled two bowls and carried them back outside, handing her mother a spoon along with the bowl. She placed a dish towel on her mother’s lap and watched as her mother rested the bowl on her thighs.
    Bella sat back down and buried her head in her bowl of ice cream. She didn’t look up until she had three brain freezes and the bowl was almost empty. When the sliding glass door opened behind them she twisted in the seat, surprised that the light had faded so quickly. There was a milky film over her teeth and tongue and she wished for a glass of water.
    â€œLadies,” her father said as he walked toward them, trying hard to contain the surprise in his voice. He was without his suit jacket and his tie was looped around his neck untied, but his face bore the exhaustion of a day that was never-ending.
    Bella looked over at her mother. The ice cream was nearly untouched and was now a puddle of white cream that threatened to overflow onto her lap. Bella reached for the bowl and put it down on the deck.
    Her father steadied himself by grabbing on to the handles of the wheelchair before he bent over to kiss her mother lightly on the top of her head. Bella looked away. It was just as awful to witness a completely asexual kiss as it was to see a passionate one.
    â€œWhere’s Sasha?” Her father squinted into the corners of the deck as if the nurse’s aide were hiding.
    Bella shrugged. “Broken car, no bus, I don’t know.” Her mother was looking down at her lap. Bella knew she hated the presence of the nurse’s aides in the house. She had reluctantly agreed to someone during the day and evening but refused to have a night nurse, making do from eleven until seven, when the day aide came in.
    Her father sighed. “I’ll call the agency, get someone newtomorrow. Should we go inside?” His hands reached for the wheelchair’s brake.
    â€œWhy don’t you go make a drink and bring it out here?”
    Bella and her father glanced at each other, surprised by Bella’s mother’s suggestion. Bella looked away quickly, collected the ice cream bowls, and stood up. Suddenly she felt an overwhelming urgency to run away. She walked back into the house without a word and deposited the bowls in the kitchen sink. When she looked back outside her father had taken her seat. His hand was on the armrest of the wheelchair, his legs splayed out in front of him. She could tell from the movement of her mother’s head that she was talking. Occasionally her father nodded, even laughed. It should have made Bella feel better, but it just made her angry.
    In the way , way back of Frankie Cole’s backyard, which was really a second lot that had remained wooded and undeveloped, there was a tremendous bonfire in the fire pit and constellations of people dodging stray sparks. Bella searched for a familiar face and almost immediately ran into Stephen Winters and Peter Chang carrying cases of beer.
    â€œTake one,” Peter urged, his face red and puffy. “Or six.”
    Bella took a can even though she really didn’t want it. Peter huffed with effort and walked by, Stephen in the rear. He carried three cases to Peter’s two and it barely looked like it was an effort.
    â€œThere you are! Finally!” Mindy grabbed