Adult Conversation

by Brandy Ferner

  June slid a bowl of various tea bags over to me. I chose peppermint.

  “How is Chet doing with what happened to Charlie?” I asked, now that Chet had been brought up.

  “He was most worried about me not getting identifying information about the driver that hit him.”

  I felt a prick of guilt. “Shit. I should’ve thought of that.”

  “I’m glad we didn’t get it, April, although I’d like to give that driver a piece of my mind. Chet lives for litigation and would’ve made this person’s life miserable, and dragged all of us into it. He gets back from a trip tonight and I wouldn’t be surprised if he first goes down to Costco and demands to see video footage.”

  I grasped the mug and lifted it up to my lips. Too hot. June lowered her voice. “I would never have married him had I known better.”

  “What didn’t you know?” I forced myself to take a tiny sip of the piping hot tea, to busy my mouth, so she would continue.

  “At nineteen, it was fine that he was a bit of a bully because he was also charming and a really good dancer. I had different criteria for marriage back then. At least I have my precious boys, but I’m also stuck in a nightmare.” She bobbed her tea bag up and down.

  “What do you mean by stuck, like you can’t divorce him?” I hoped the use of the D-word was not premature, although referring to your marriage as a nightmare probably meant it was warranted.

  “Stuck, as in I’ve never felt like I could be a single mom. It’s been my anchor throughout my kids’ lives. When I want to run away from Chet, I tell myself, ‘I cannot be a single mom, I cannot be a single mom,’ and that keeps me going for a bit longer.”

  I suddenly felt like I’d been a huge whiner. I would most definitely not be allowed in that office over there. While I sat on June’s couch at Mother Roots, complaining about my life with a well-intended, kind husband who didn’t need to bitch-stamp his name on our possessions, here she was trying to keep herself afloat in an awful marriage that I clearly didn’t even know the half of yet. I felt like a selfish jackass. But I would deal with my own feelings later.

  “So you would leave him if you could?” I clarified.

  “Yes. In a heartbeat if I had the money. And if he wasn’t so vengeful.”

  My eyes momentarily darted to all the wealth surrounding them. She must’ve noticed. “He’d fight me tooth and nail for all of this. Even the kids—especially the kids. And he’d probably win, with his will to take people down.” She looked over in Charlie’s direction. “Which is why I knew I could never leave him.” Her voice cracked.

  My tears teetered. I was in awe of June and her ability to keep showing up to such a mangled relationship.

  “I wanted to be strong for my kids. I’d rather have a loveless marriage and get to see them than break free and lose them.” She turned around and hid her emotion by wiping her hands on a dishcloth for too long. I looked down at the chaotic grey and white marbled countertop wishing Harold and his purple crayon were here to draw her out of this.

  “How long do you plan to stick it out?”

  “I don’t know. I just pretend that this ordeal isn’t happening and try to distract myself.” She flashed a self-deprecating smile and looked over at the chalk-painted chairs. “But yesterday, something shifted.”

  My eyes got big and I sipped my tea hard.

  “When Chet was unfazed by what happened to Charlie and refused to come home early from his trip, I suddenly knew. I’ve stayed all these years out of my fear of his boys’ club lawyer friends punishing me in court—and the aftermath. But for the first time, I’m more scared of us staying than I am of leaving.”

  “Oh June, that’s horrible. Surely you’d have some rights.”

  “Normally, yes. But Chet had an agreement drawn up when we got married and I was dumb enough to sign it. He said it was something his dad told him we should have. It felt like a very adult thing at nineteen, so I signed it. And I’m embarrassed to admit that I have no idea what it said. I trusted Chet. I loved him. And I thought he loved me. Maybe he did. I don’t know. It doesn’t matter.”

  “There has to be a way to fight that, saying that you were young and didn’t know what you were signing.”

  “There is really only one hope.”

  Whatever it was, I would do anything and everything in my power to make this thing happen. Mom Code to the infinity power.

  “If I can get footage of him cheating on me, it gives me leverage and might be able to nullify some things. But it would have to be actual video footage—real evidence—not just receipts or texts.”

  “Whoa. You think he’s cheating on you?”

  She scoffed. “I know he is.”

  My jaw dislodged like a boa constrictor’s. But then I picked it up off the counter in excited realization. “That means there’s hope for you. I mean—I’m so sorry. I don’t mean to gloss over how hurtful all that is.”

  “No, I understand. I actually feel the same way. His cheating isn’t anything new and I buried that grief years ago.”

  I felt ill thinking about living and parenting with someone I knew was cheating on me, for years. That kind of betrayal was incomprehensible. I wanted to know all the details about it: when, how often, was it with one person or many, did he know she knew? And more importantly, I wanted to know how I could help her. I was trying to figure out how to ask all of this in a gentle way when Chase and Elliot barged into the kitchen, “starving.”

  June dished out a juicy pot roast, potatoes, and carrots into bright white bowls for all five of us, one on a special tray for Charlie. I hoped Elliot would not refuse to eat it. I crossed my fingers. Meals at friends’ houses were one of the few times peer pressure could work in a parent’s favor.

  June left her bowl untouched and walked over to Charlie, who had fallen asleep in the beanbag. She sat down next to him on an ottoman and stroked his hair until his eyes opened. I jettisoned back to the images of the previous day. I wondered if she would ever look at her sons waking up the same way again. Chase and Elliot sat at the table, gobbling up their dinner out of genuine hunger and not just haste to get back to the iPad. Elliot even asked for seconds. Once both of their bowls were empty, the boys were gone in a flash.

  As June fed Charlie his dinner, I sat in my own personal bubble of peace, the tender meat and flavorful veggies melting in my mouth. No one was almost spilling something on me, and my usual dinnertime “is-someone-falling-out-of-a-chair” reflexes were on pause as I absorbed not only my dinner, but all that had just been said.

  A wind chime tinkled, like it was being stroked over and over. It was June’s ringing phone, which lay on the counter next to me. I lifted it up toward her direction, my mouth too full to speak.

  “Will you look and see who it is? I’m waiting for a call from Cammy about a prescription for Charlie.”

  I looked down and saw a picture of Snoop Dogg. Not like a super dope album cover graphic of him, but a real-life picture of him in the world with someone. He was hugging the person in the picture. My brain did not know how to make sense of this.

  “Um, it’s a picture of Snoop Dogg and someone,” I said to her, laughing.

  The wind chime kept on and on.

  “Just let voicemail get it. I’ll call him back later,” she said flippantly.

  I looked at the Snoop Dogg picture once more. It finally fucking registered. The person hugging him in the picture was June.

  “Juuuuuune! This is you with Snoop Dogg! What?” I was standing up. “Wait, was that him calling you? You know Snoop Dogg, like personally?”

  She giggled at me, amused. I was baffled. Say words, June. What does all this mean?

  “He’s been a neighbor for a long time. Sweetest guy, and his kids and their cousins play with the boys. He’s probably calling to check on Charlie,” she explained as if this wasn’t the biggest news of my life. My eyes must’ve been popping out of my head, a la Large Marge from Pee Wee’s Big Adventure. I couldn’t wait to tell Aaron that we
were within two degrees of Snoop Dogg—the actual fucking Snoop Dogg. I was beyond starstruck. Yes, his atrocious (and catchy as hell) lyrics went against every pro-female belief I had. But I also never claimed to be perfect.

  “I take it you’re a fan?” she asked.

  “Yeahhhh. Just a little bit. I may or may not have sung ‘Lodi Dodi’ to my kids to calm them down as infants.” I peered out the window like a stalker. “So, does he live right next to you or a few houses down?” I was looking for a house with a bumpin’ party, fly hunnies playing volleyball, and maybe a dog statue out front with the words “Don Corleone” on its collar.

  “Yes, he’s on our street.” She was withholding just enough specific information so I couldn’t get myself into trouble.

  “Mom, who was that on the phone? Someone was calling about me?” Charlie asked.

  “Yes honey, that was Mr. Calvin.”

  “Mister Calvin? You get to call him that?” I nearly lost my gore. I walked in circles in her kitchen.

  Then a door opened loudly somewhere in the back of the house. In walked a man whom I assumed was Chet. His most immediate feature was a Bluetooth wireless head-piece stuck to his ear and an oversized smartphone he wore in a holster on his belt—that, and his neon-orange running shoes that held up his chiseled, diamond-shaped calves. He was mid-conversation and his volume level was at about a three hundred. He was wearing shiny running shorts and had spiky gelled hair. “They’re wrong. The average income in America is 150K. Look it up, morons,” he said as he popped in the office.

  “The Boss” was home.

  “I’ll call you back,” he said, abruptly, tapping his ear-piece and looking at me. I felt like an intruder and tried to make myself disappear into the stool.

  “Chet, this is my friend April. She was the one there when Charlie got hurt,” June said while moving closer to me, protectively. Chet didn’t even look in her direction, his eyes fixated on me like the Terminator’s. I felt like I might melt from his intensity when suddenly his seriousness morphed into a huge grin as he stuck out his hand for a hearty shake.

  “Pleased to meet you. I can’t thank you enough for all you did for us yesterday.”

  I shook his hand. The firmness of his grip was equal to the amount of overcompensating he was doing.

  “I didn’t really do anything. June was the one in there.” Mom Code represent.

  “So from the periphery, you probably saw the make, model, and year of the car that hit Charlie then, right? You probably also saw a distinguishable profile too?” he queried.

  “No, no,” I said, feeling cornered. “I was with my two kids, trying to keep them calm. And Chase too.”

  From the other side of the room came a soft voice that rescued everyone. “Daddy, do you want to see my red cast? I have superpowers in my arm.”

  “Hey, Chief!” Chet said, turning toward Charlie and walking over to his son with a wide and deliberate gait. His severity oozed with every move. I looked at June with sympathy, wonder, and deep concern. Our eyes met. Hers were apologetic. So were mine.

  “We need to go home, it’s getting late,” I said. “I’ll go grab Elliot.” I began walking to the marble staircase. Soft music suddenly piped in, as if I was in a waiting room. It sounded familiar. I was ashamed to admit it, but I recognized it as a Muzak version of Jimmy Buffet’s awful song “Cheeseburger in Paradise.” I looked back to see Chet in front of the panel of switches. He must’ve turned it on— another power play for Team Boardroom.

  I found the boys in the first room at the top of the stairs, having a Lego battle.

  “How dare you destroy my battle station, infidel!” Elliot said in a character voice as Chase crashed a ship into his building. There were mouth sound effects of explosions and long, slow deaths. I knocked on the open door.

  “I’m sorry to break up your fun guys, but Elliot, we have to head home.” Right on cue, he gave the sound of eight-year-old resistance.

  “Awwwww, Mommmmmm.” And then came the bargaining. “Can we just have ten more minutes?”

  “No.” The immediate harshness in my voice was in direct relation to how badly I wanted to avoid any more interaction with Chet, and Elliot must’ve picked up on it because he started cleaning up immediately. “I’m impressed that you guys played with Legos instead of iPads,” I said, trying to change my tone to a lighter one.

  “The iPad died,” Chase said. Ah yes. Of course. Stupid me.

  As we reached the bottom step of the staircase, I could hear Chet in the middle of a conversation with June through the instrumental condiment-listing part of “Cheeseburger in Paradise.”

  “What I don’t understand is, how were you so distracted that you didn’t stop him from running off into a parking lot like that?” He was blaming her for Charlie’s accident.

  “Chet, kids run off. And they do it quickly. He was standing right there next to me and then he wasn’t. It happened in seconds. It’s not like I wasn’t paying attention.” She wasn’t backing down. You fucking tell him, June.

  I made my footsteps loud on purpose. Chet’s demeanor did a one-eighty as the boys and I walked into the kitchen. Chet’s penetrating, shit-eating grin was back.

  “Dad!” Chase yelled, running toward Chet. They hugged. The boys’ affinity for their father certainly had to make June’s decision to leave or stay that much harder.

  June walked Elliot and I outside. “Well, now you have met Chet.”

  I didn’t know what to say back, but what came out was, “I guess so.” I wanted to tell her that I couldn’t imagine living with him, much less being married to him, but none of that was helpful to say to someone who was stuck. You don’t tell someone stuck in an elevator how you couldn’t imagine being stuck in an elevator. You try to slip them a tortilla through the doors so they don’t starve to death.

  I gave her a long hug. “Thank you for having us over tonight. The dinner was unbelievable. And so was the fact that you know Snoop Dogg.”

  She smiled and folded her arms to keep herself warm in the night air as Elliot and I got into the van. Those damn cold-shoulder shirts were too drafty. I wished they would die.

  “I haven’t really shared my story with anyone other than Cammy. Real friends are non-existent. Most good people don’t stick around because of Chet.” The sadness on her face broke my heart in two. I couldn’t imagine how she had stayed so quiet for so long. How she’d survived without friends. I would’ve been telling my story to anyone who would listen.

  “I wish I could do something to help you.”

  She gave me puppy-dog eyes, but no specific instructions on how to help.

  As I pulled through their fancy drive-thru driveway, I considered canvassing up and down the street, searching for Snoop Dogg’s house. It had to be obvious which one was his, right? Hoopties in the driveway, a yard full of Dobermans.

  When Elliot and I arrived home, Aaron was sitting on the couch chatting with Lucinda, both indulging in a glass of wine. They were all smiles, naturally. Violet came running over and hugged my legs. Lucinda stood up.

  “I should probably get going. The toga party starts in two hours and I gotta get the rest of the gold leaves glued onto my costume.” I never imagined I would be jealous of a senior citizen’s social life.

  “I got to have dinner sitting down because of you,” I said to her as I gave her a big hug. “I hope this one behaved for you.” I pointed at Violet.

  “She’s easy-peasy.”

  No she’s not. Say she’s a wretch and you don’t know how I do it every day. Lucinda’s words felt like more of Marnie’s gas-lighting—a grandma tag-team—even though I knew that wasn’t her motive. I was looking forward to someday being a grandma. It sounded like the ideal way to have children in one’s life—all the fun without the monotonous caretaking and crushing responsibility aspects. As a grandparent, you got to let shit slide and the consequences of doing so didn’t directly affect you—you’d even be dead before these kids grew up to be adults that had to h
old jobs and not die of diabetes.

  I sat in the big comfy glider, on the downhill side of bedtime, cradling Violet and singing one of our favorites from Beauty and the Beast, about the Beast’s metamorphosis from total dicknut to being dear, and so unsure. The second I fled her room, I ran downstairs, side-stepping all the toys and books on the floor to text Aaron, who was detained in Elliot’s room.

  Big news.

  I attached a .gif of Snoop Dogg morphing into an actual dog. Minutes later, Aaron walked downstairs briskly.

  “So what is this about Snoop Dogg?”

  I paused for a moment, relishing the delicious news that was mine to divulge.

  “He’s June’s neighbor,” I said, straight-faced.

  “Holy shit. So she lives Snoop Dogg–adjacent?”

  “Yep. And not only that, but they are frieeeeends.” His knees buckled. “And he called her while I was there. And I was holding her phone, so I was basically touching him.”

  “What does this mean for us? When can we go visit him?” He was only half-joking. I broke a smile as our familiar banter returned. “I feel like everything I knew before this moment means nothing. We know Snoop Dogg,” he said on his way to the cabinet for a celebratory snack.

  “How can you eat at a time like this?” I asked.

  “Snoop would want me to eat.” “I also met June’s husband who was a total fucking piece of work.”

  “I don’t want to hear any words come out of your mouth that aren’t ‘Snoop’ or ‘Dogg’ right now.”

  “Good point. Back to Snoop Dogg.”

  Aaron rummaged through the pantry, finally settling on a small bowl of Market Street’s more cardboard version of Triscuits, aptly named “Straw.”

  “Okay but really, what was her husband like?”

  “There was so much to take in, but first and foremost, his name was Chet.”

  “Say no more.”

  “I’m dumbfounded. If June can be married to a guy like this, then nothing makes sense anymore. She wants a divorce, though.”

  “Did she tell you that?”

  “Yep. He’s a bully. I saw it. And he’s cheating on her and she knows it.” I slapped the coffee table with that news. It was like a reality show come to life.