by J. J. Murray
“C’mon, Toni,” Crystal says. “Let’s go to the ladies’ room.”
“But, Crystal,” Toni says, “I don’t have to go.”
Crystal glances briefly at me. “I need to fix your hair, Toni.”
Toni touches her hair. “What’s wrong with it?”
“C’mon,” Crystal says. “I’ll show you.”
Crystal takes her sister’s hand, and they wander toward the back. A second later, the boys zip by me. Oh, now they can move quickly. I walk past the empty seats to Rose and Shawna.
“Enjoying yourselves?” I ask.
“They need to turn down the keyboards,” Rose says.
“You said it,” Shawna says. “I can barely hear Tommy singing. Nicole, though. I could hear that child sing through a hurricane.”
“She should do American Idol,” Rose says. “She has as good a voice as any I’ve heard on that show.”
I am having trouble breathing. These two are ... talking. Conversing. Communicating.
Shawna fans the air in front of her. “This sure is a workout, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” I say, only I’m not sure if she means the Gospel show or talking to Rose. Probably a little of both.
“Oh, Joe, please take off that sweater,” Shawna says.
“Yeah, Daddy,” Rose says. “You’ll roast.”
And now they’re sharing the same ideas? I can’t peel off my sweater fast enough, but I immediately wish I wasn’t wearing a white turtleneck underneath. I’m practically shining.
Shawna whispers something in Rose’s ear, and Rose smiles.
And now they’re being secretive?
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing, Daddy,” Rose says with a giggle. A giggle? What has happened? They’ve only been down here for maybe thirty minutes!
“Are you giggling at my massive physique?” I strike a pose.
Rose stands and plucks a dark tuft of sweater from my turtleneck and shows it to me. “You’re, um, shedding, Daddy.”
I look at all the dark fibers crawling like little snakes on my turtleneck. “I should put the sweater back on.”
“Yes,” Shawna says. “Please. Quickly.”
I put it back on.
Shawna turns to Rose. “You let him dress himself?”
“Yes,” she says.
Which is a lie! Rose dressed me tonight!
“Hmm,” Shawna says with a smile. “We need to fix that.”
“I’ve tried,” Rose says, “but he’s very stubborn.”
“Well, he’s only had one woman pestering him about it.” Shawna winks at me. “Just wait until he has four women dressing him.”
Rose laughs. She laughs! It’s not a nervous giggle. It’s a full-blown, honest-to-God laugh.
“We will not let him leave the house until we all agree that he is dressed properly from now on,” Shawna says. “Deal?”
Rose nods. “Deal.”
Shawna looks up at me. “You, um, have anything to say in your defense?”
“No,” I say.
“Smart man,” Shawna says. She looks at Rose. “We’ll fix him. Now tell me where you got those shoes. My feet are killing me ...”
I back away. I’ve disappeared completely. They’re ignoring me already? It took years for that to happen with Cheryl and Rose. I don’t know if I should feel hurt or overjoyed.
No. I don’t mind this at all. Girl talk to the rescue.
Thank you, God, for cheap sweaters that shed.
42
Shawna
“But I’m always afraid of getting flat feet,” I’m saying to Rose when Crystal comes over to us holding Toni’s hand as the lights flicker before the start of the second half of the show.
“Hi. I’m Crystal, and this is Toni,” Crystal says to Rose, then looks hard at me. “We weren’t properly introduced.”
Oops. I didn’t introduce them. Shame on me.
“Um,” Crystal says, “can Toni sit down here with us?”
Oh, I get it. Just the girls. I have to make sure. “Can I join you?”
And then they hit me with that eye thing girls of every race, color, and creed do when they want to be a-lone and a-way from a-dults, like they’re scared little bunny rabbits looking at each other and twitching their noses.
“I was just kidding,” I say. “My men need me.” I bounce off a few boys’ knees back to Joe.
“What happened?”
“Just another miracle,” I say.
This is a good place for miracles. Even if the music is too loud or the tree people in front of us have hair as high as Mount Kilimanjaro, miracles have happened.
Like the miracle sitting next to me holding my hand during “I’m Ready.”
Yes, Lord, I am so ready.
43
Joe
I wish that all our family outings this spring had been like that Gospel show. We used my lame list with mixed results. The hockey game wasn’t too bad, but Toni hated it, saying it was too cold and asking a million questions, like “Where are the cheerleaders?” and “Why aren’t they arresting those two men fighting?”
Shawna says that if Toni didn’t talk, she couldn’t breathe.
I believe it.
We tried to go to a Roanoke Dazzle basketball game, and though it was exciting and the Dazzle won, Rose tuned out the world, Jimmy didn’t win a dress-up relay at halftime (a kid half his size smoked him), Junior and Joey talked about some math problem the entire time, and Toni asked (and got) whatever she wanted to eat. Crystal dressed so provocatively that I was surprised she didn’t stop play on the court. And after the game, we had to wait until Crystal got some autographs from some of the players.
“She’s probably getting phone numbers,” Shawna said, “and if she gets any calls, I’ll call block every last one of them.”
Shawna had to call-block a lot of numbers.
We tried Thunder Valley to ride the go-karts and play a round of laser tag. What could be more fun than racing each other for “family” bragging rights or more exciting than to shoot light beams at your future brothers and sisters? We paid all this money for them to have fun together and eat a couple pizzas, but only Toni and Jimmy rode the go-karts, played laser tag, and ate pizza. The “high schoolers” were too cool for all that, preferring instead to waste forty bucks in tokens on video games, some I remember playing back in the old days. We spent close to one hundred dollars in two hours.
I am definitely in the wrong profession.
“Expensive date,” Shawna said. “At least I got to beat you in Ms. Pac-Man.”
I’m still upset over that. That used to be my game!
On senior night for the girls’ basketball team, which went an abysmal 4-14, Shawna wanted me to help escort Crystal to center court, but Crystal wouldn’t have it.
“I hope you don’t mind if just my mama is with me,” she said.
“I don’t mind,” I said.
And I don’t—really. She’s not my stepdaughter yet. However, I did mind minding the rest of our crew in the stands during the ceremony. They were excessively loud, almost rude, in their admiration for Crystal. I was almost embarrassed, the kids were yelling so loudly and drawing attention to themselves.
Oh, who am I kidding?
All of this—the headaches, the open hands asking for money, the empty pockets at the end of the night, the stress of squeaking by every month in the bills department, the yawns—all of this has been the most fun I’ve had in years. My kids seem alive again, and we actually have a future in mind. After Cheryl died, we couldn’t see past the next minute. Now, we’re talking about the wedding, what it will be like to have a fuller house, and—except for Crystal—where each is likely to go to college.
Shawna and I still haven’t had a real romantic date by ourselves, but that’s about to change tomorrow.
“Rose is babysitting for us at my house,” I had told Shawna yesterday during our lunch break ritual.
“She is?”
“Yep. They’l
l be baking cookies, eating popcorn, and watching videos while we are going to be sitting in the audience at a movie at Valley View Grande after sitting for a couple hours eating at Ruby Tuesday ... without the kids.”
Shawna’s eyes had softened. “Without the kids?”
“Yes.”
“ ‘Without the kids,’ ” she had said with a smile. “That is one amazingly calming phrase. Without the kids. The phrase doesn’t work without the ‘without.’ ‘The kids’ sends a shudder through me.”
They send a shudder through my wallet, too. They are eating machines. Three Extra-Large Papa John’s pizzas—bought with coupons, of course—are not enough. They are money machines. Quarters cannot stay in their possession for more than a second before disappearing down some slot. They are time machines. They have a “need” for this or a “need” for that on every shopping trip, and they have to have it “Now, Daddy” or “Now, Mama” or “My teacher said I need it for school tomorrow” or “All the kids at school have them already.”
And, they have no conception of the word “privacy,” as in “I’d like some privacy while I’m on the phone with Shawna” or “I’d like some privacy while I kiss Shawna good night.”
Shawna just shrugs over all this, saying, “We’re just getting a taste of how it might be. How’s it taste?”
Is “exhausting” a flavor?
Meeting the needs of three kids is hard. Meeting or trying to meet the needs of six kids is flat-out tiring. I have barely had enough time (or money) to buy Shawna a proper engagement ring.
That I intend to give her tonight if all goes as planned.
And if I don’t stop thinking all these thoughts and pay more attention while I’m shaving—
“Daddy!” Rose screams from downstairs.
Geez! I’ve cut myself. “What?” I call out.
“They’re here!”
Just my luck. I’ve got a gusher, right on the jawline. I may need a Band-Aid.
I will look so ... smashing for my first dinner date in twenty years.
44
Shawna
This is a nice place. Hardwood floors are nice. Shiny. I look down at my reflection. Hmm. With the right light you can see up my dress. Maybe too shiny. Give it time. Six pairs of children’s feet screaming through here should cure that.
It’ll be nice to be in a house again. I know I’ll miss The Castle, but it’s only right up the street and we can visit any time we want to. While Rose, Jimmy, and Joey give Toni and Junior a tour of where they’ll live one day, I wander ... to learn, you know? It’s not being nosy when you’re opening this or pulling out that in your future house.
The kitchen is nice and big with lots of dark walnut cabinets. Lots of closets and ... no, it’s a half bath. Right here off the kitchen? Decent placement if the food isn’t decent. Hmm. We’ll need to widen that toilet some. The Murphys have them some skinny behinds.
Where’s Joe? I grab the first child running down the stairs. It happens to be Jimmy. “Where’s your father?”
“Upstairs shaving.”
I stroke the peach fuzz on his chin. “You’ll be shaving soon, Jimmy.”
He strokes what is almost there. “You think so?”
“I know so.” In about two or three years.
“Cool.” Then Jimmy takes off to parts unknown.
I check my watch. We’re actually going to be early, so I don’t mind waiting. I’m sure Joe knows I’m here. It’ll give me time to check out the family room. Nice fireplace with a mantel. Golden clock surrounded by huge pinecones. Pinecones sure don’t grow that big around here. They look out of place, though. Hmm. This is some old furniture. Claw feet? Solid wood? Plaid upholstery that doesn’t match anything. We’re going to need some slipcovers. Solid colors. JCPenney sells them. Pretty big TV with VCR and DVD built in. So this is the room I won’t be able to recognize later on tonight.
What’s taking him so long? Joe doesn’t have that much facial hair. Actually, he does have quite a bit, but it doesn’t grow uniformly on his face—or on the back of his neck. He’s a furry thing before he gets a haircut.
C’mon, Joe! Let’s go somewhere “without the kids”! I don’t want to yell up the stairs, but, well, this is going to be my house so I may as well start acting like it. “Joe! You all right up there?”
Joe comes to the top of the stairs holding a tissue to his neck.
“What happened?”
“It’s almost stopped,” he says.
I dash up those stairs. “Where’s your Neosporin?”
“Hall closet.”
I open the closet and find an amazing assortment of first aid accessories: Band-Aids of every size and shape, some waterproof, others latex free; four tubes of Neosporin; several Ace bandages; witch hazel; Ipecac; and those “smack ’em” ice packs. So this is what it’s like to raise two boys.
“We’re ready for anything, huh?”
I grab the Neosporin. “I’ll say. Take off that tissue.”
“It’s a real gusher.”
Blood has already soaked through. Nasty. “How’d you do it?”
“I was thinking of you.” He pulls off the tissue, his blood not squirting on me.
“Just don’t smile or you’ll blind me.”
I push out a little bit of Neosporin and take the smallest clear circular Band-Aid I can find, smoothing it over his jawline. “Remind me to take it off of you before we get out of my car.”
“Okay. Um, before I go, I should read them the riot act.”
“The what?”
He looks down. “It’s what Cheryl used to call it, you know, the house rules.”
“Oh.” The riot act. Interesting. “I’m with you.”
We assemble our brood in the family room, and they look so hyper! I pity this room already.
“Here’s the deal,” Joe says. “No running. The floors are slick, especially if you’re wearing socks.”
Oh, don’t tell my kids that, Joe! That’s a challenge. They’ll be “stealing home” headfirst into the kitchen the second we leave.
“Don’t answer the front door unless it’s the Domino’s man,” Joe says.
“You ordered pizza?” Jimmy asks.
Joe nods.
“How many?” Jimmy asks.
Joe looks away from me. “Five mediums.”
Oh, no, he didn’t!
“Which is one for each of you,” Joe adds.
My baby can’t eat a whole pizza by herself! That’s a waste of money!
“I’ll have my cell phone,” Joe says, producing his, “but only call us in an emergency, okay? No funny stuff.”
Oh, now we are going to get slaughtered with calls. I’ll have to remind him to put his cell phone on vibrate at the theater.
“Rose is in charge,” Joe continues, “so you do whatever she asks you to do.” He turns to me. “Did I forget anything?”
What didn’t he forget? We’re going to have to work on his riot acts. “Just behave, y’all, okay?” I plead. “I don’t want to be worrying the entire time about you on our first real date. Only call if the house is on fire or someone is hurt and needs an ambulance. I want this house to look exactly like it does now when we return. Clean up your messes, and be nice to each other.”
“Mama,” Junior says, “we’ll be fine, now just go.”
“We’ll be back around eleven,” I say, and I practically run to that door.
“Boys, mind your manners,” Joe says behind me. “No unusual bodily noises, okay?”
Oh, that’s just perfect. His house is going to be full of boy funk when we get home.
Usually Joe drives us everywhere in that van, but I’m the chauffeur tonight, and since I’m directing this vehicle, I get to direct the conversation. “Joe, why did you tell them all that? You know they’ll do the exact opposite of what you told them.”
“And now they know I know they’ll do it.”
“Huh?” That almost made sense.
“I know all of that will happen, a
nd if it doesn’t happen, I’ll be amazed. It will be kind of like coming attractions for your kids when they move in.”
“Who are soon to be our kids, right?”
“Right.”
But before any of that can happen, I have to get a ring for this handsome finger. When am I going to get it? Rose told Junior, who promised not to tell anyone, who naturally told Toni, who also promised not to tell anyone, that Joe had bought me a ring. But that was weeks ago!
“Did you just feel a load come off your shoulders?” I ask.
“Yes. About four hundred pounds’ worth.”
I do the math. His kids weigh that much? They must have big bones.
“Do you think we’ll make it through the evening without a phone call?” he asks.
“I hope so,” I say.
But I’m really thinking, Not a chance.
45
Joe
The first phone call comes as we’re being seated at Ruby Tuesday. Jimmy is being especially vulgar, Rose tells me, and “We’re almost out of air freshener.” Should she light some matches? No, I tell her. “Put Jimmy on the phone.”
“Yes, Daddy?” Jimmy asks.
“Cut it out,” I say. Shawna is rolling her eyes.
“But, Daddy, I had burritos for lunch at school, and they’re gaseous.”
While I’m glad his vocabulary and his grades are improving, I cannot have him farting up the house. “Either stifle them or leave the room, okay?”
“Okay. Bye.”
The second call arrives exactly five minutes later as we’re sipping some rather unsweetened sweet tea, adding three packets of sugar to our glasses. I listen for a moment to Junior, then hand the phone to Shawna. “It’s Junior.”
“Uh-huh ... uh-huh ... uh-huh. The whole thing? Already?” Shawna covers the phone. “Y’all have some Pepto-Bismol in that cabinet?”
I try not to smile. “We keep it in the upstairs bathroom.”
“There’s some Pepto in the upstairs bathroom. Read the label and only give her what it says to. Good-bye.” She puts the phone in the middle of the table. “You have extra toilet paper in the house, too, I hope.”
“Yes.”
“Toni ate her entire pizza already.”