Angie was reading a book in the living room when her daughter, Katie, burst in and fell face first on the couch.
“Ben dumped me,” wailed Katie.
A perverse smile spread across Angie’s lips. About time, she thought to herself.
“Well, time heals all wounds,” said Angie.
Katie pushed herself up and glared at her mother. “No it doesn’t. That’s just one of those things people say that not true.”
“How do you know?” asked Angie.
“Like, ‘laughter is the best medicine’. Not if you need brain surgery. It’s just not true,” sobbed Katie.
“Um, I’m confused. What’s that got to do with Ben?” asked Angie.
“You lied to me.”
“No I didn’t. I just said what people always say in times like this. It’s supposed to be comforting,” replied Angie.
“Newsflash: It’s not. Neither is ‘the only thing we have to fear is fear itself’. There’s lots of things to be afraid of,” sniffed Katie.
Angie’s confusion was written across her face. “Roosevelt said that in his inaugural address.”
“Then World War Two happened. That’s a lot to fear, isn’t it? He lied, too,” cried Katie.
“Are you feeling alright? Have you taken something you shouldn’t?” asked Angie.
Katie sat up defiantly. “For the first time in my life, I’m great. I finally see things clearly.”
“What does that mean exactly?”
Wiping away snot from her nose, Katie answered, “Ben told me he could care less about me. I know what he meant, but I also know exactly what he said. He could care less, which means he still cares.”
Angie rubbed her eyes. “Please start making sense,” she pleaded.
Katie nodded. “Oh, I will. I’ll tell Ben it’s not over, ‘cause now I understand. He can’t fool me. He cares, whether he knows it or not.” She straightened herself up, then stormed to her room.
Angie sat in her chair, visibly shaken. She thought to herself, ‘You’re only as young as you feel’. If that’s true, I just got twenty years older.