Suck

Veronica's mother cuts in. "Oh, yeah. Keep talking about stuff I haven't taken care of, when all you can do is sit on your ass and watch stupid TV shows for hours and eat Double-Stuff Oreos."

"I do not watch that much TV! You're the one that watches stupid Oprah every day, speaking of stupid! And you won't even buy me the Double-Stuff kind, so that is just a total lie!" Veronica's face is turning a crimson red that matches the shaggy doormat covered in long white cat hair just inside the kitchen door.

"Don't call your mother stupid." Veronica's mother interjects as she thoughtfully picks peeling paint off the back door. "Don't call yourself 'your mother,' stupid!" sasses Veronica. Mrs. Walsh just rolls her eyes and rips a big strip of eggshell-white paint off the door, revealing a startling slate blue underneath.

Later, reclining on the black vinyl couch, Mrs. Walsh explains that she really didn't have any particular "look" in mind for the place when she was furnishing it. "I don't exactly have time to mull over different brands of towels like some kind of doctor's wife." She surveys her immediate surroundings. "It's OK in here ... whatever. The cat's been the big problem, really," she explains, pointing toward a chair that's clearly a favorite scratching post for Bruno, a long-haired Persian with an apparently severe flea problem.

"I didn't even ever want a cat because I'm allergic, but Mom insisted, and now I sneeze all the time, my eyes are always watering, and she doesn't even care!" Veronica yelps while retreating back to her pink bedroom in the back. "I hate pink. My mom was hoping I'd be more girly when I was little," she says, pushing back a lock of dyed jet-black hair and wiping at her bright purple mascara.

"You stop showing off for the reporter," snaps her mother. As the sun sets over the sidewalk out front and the clouds get heavy and purple, Veronica slams her door loudly. Her mother smirks and turns on Jeopardy! so she doesn't have to hear the temper tantrum that she knows will follow. The sun sets, and the kids on their Big Wheels riding by on the sidewalk out front can probably hear Veronica crying and breaking shit - maybe they'll be doing the same thing in a few years. But as far as Veronica's concerned, she's the only girl in the world who's ever felt totally alone and trapped in a split-level ranch house in Ohio.

Next ... Westchester husbands and wives!