Watch Me Disappear

insisted that it wouldn’t be any trouble at all to meet my parents; actually, she’s so happy showing off the baby that she’d be thrilled.
    I could have put my mom on the phone to hear these words directly from Anna’s mouth, but I didn’t. I was falling back into the same old trap of savoring my seclusion and milking my misery. I was getting back in touch with the old familiar Lizzie who sits home reading books, feeling jealous of the kids who have friends and places to go. I know it’s perverse, but sometimes I think part of me wants to be miserable. It’s easy, anyway, and I am accustomed to it.
    My mom keeps telling me to go see if Maura’s home, but I don’t want to. I don’t want to try to play the part of Maura’s friend. I don’t want to put on the expensive makeup that’s collecting dust on my dresser, I don’t want to style my hair or suck in my stomach or laugh at jokes that are stupid anyway. Paul thinks I shouldn’t trust Maura, and he knows her pretty well. I had my taste of a “normal” high school experience, it was interesting enough, and now it’s time to get back to my reality.
     
    *          *          *
     
     “This moping has got to stop,” my mother says to me one afternoon as I listlessly flip through TV channels. “You’re being ridiculous.”
    “If you’d just let me go hang out with Missy,” I say.
    “Fine.”
    Her agreement is an unexpected turn of events. I am too shocked to respond.
    “I like seeing you happy,” she says. “It was nice to see you having some friends and acting like a kid. So if you want to go to Missy’s, fine.”
    “You know her mom would like to meet you, too,” I say. “She said she’d be happy to meet you anytime.”
    “Lizzie, let me ask you something,” my mother says, stepping away from the ironing board where she’s working. “Have we been unreasonable?”
    “What do you mean?” I wondered where this was coming from. Of course they’d been unreasonable. My whole life they’d been insanely strict and controlling. Well, mostly my mother, with my father just nodding along in the background.
    “We’ve just wanted to keep you safe, to help you stay out of harm’s way, but maybe we’ve been too strict,” she says. “Seeing how Patty interacts with Maura and little Billy—it makes me think. Honestly, Lizzie, you’ve never been a very happy child, and I told myself that was just your nature, but maybe it’s my fault. Maybe I’ve been wrong.”
    Of course she’s been wrong. Of course she’s to blame. But there’s no way I can openly concur, is there? “You have been strict with me,” I say.
    “Well, I’m sorry, Lizzie, but everything we’ve ever done for you was because we love you.”
    I nod.
    “And there are some things that are going to stay the same, too,” she says. “We’re not going to let you have a computer in your room or stay out all night, but maybe it’s time we gave you some more freedoms. I mean, look at your brother. He always had the same rules you had, and then he went off to college and was totally unprepared to live his own life.”
    This is true. His freshman year he failed two courses and got put on probation by the school for having a big party in his room.
    “We should have let him make more of his own choices before he left home,” my mother continues. “I know you’re a good girl, Lizzie. I think you know well enough to make good decisions.”
    “I do,” I say, wondering where exactly this is going.
    “All right. Your father and I talked it over. We’re going to get you a cell phone, but we have conditions: No texting—we’re not paying for it, so you’re not doing it. No sending pictures to people, because we aren’t paying for that either, and every night you hand it over until the next morning.”
    I barely hear her rules and conditions. They are getting me a cell phone! Whatever the rules are, it is still unprecedented freedom.
    “And of course, one of these days, you’re going to have to learn to drive, and if we ever catch you talking on the phone and driving, that’ll be the end of that,” she says. “Now, go get dressed in something decent, and we’ll go to the mall and see what we can do.”
    Later that day I have the extreme pleasure of calling Missy from my very own phone.
    “What number is this?” she asks.
    “My cell phone.”
    “No way! I can’t believe they let you get a cell phone!”
    “Honestly, me either. My mom’s