Dear Neighbor, Drop Dead

by Saralee Rosenberg

  “What is it?” a breathlessly annoyed woman answered.

  Damn caller ID.

  I’m good, thanks. You? “Hi there,” she swallowed. “I need a small favor.”

  “With you it’s never small.”

  Did you really just make a crack about my weight? “Okay. Anyway, Artie just asked if I could go to this meeting at the bank with him this morning, so I was wondering if you—”

  “Forget it. It’s your day to drive. Plus, we’re in the middle of a challenging art project.”

  Art projects on a school day? That would go over big at her house. “Come, children. It’s seven a.m. Let’s make popsicle forts.” Lord knows where those sticks would end up.

  “And why didn’t you clear this with me sooner?”

  “I swear he just mentioned it like two minutes ago, but it’s very important that I go.”

  “Damn you,” Beth whined. “If I drive, I’ll have to cut the project short, and the girls will want to resume tonight, which is impossible because I have the PTA fashion show and I never picked up the outfits I’m modeling. God I hope they don’t do to me what they did last year. Seriously, do I look like a size eight…no, Jessica, the gray gives the sky better definition. Emma, please stop dropping the pastels. They’re very expensive. Honestly, Mindy. I agreed to this car pool to make my life easier, not harder. But this constant switching around business is a pain. Next year I’m starting a new one.”

  A new car pool with whom? The Mongolian housekeeper down the block? Nobody who spoke English wanted to deal with Beth. Or anyone over a size eight.

  “What switching-around business? I asked you maybe once or twice the whole year!”

  “Not according to my records.” Beth jabbed at her BlackBerry. “This problem started on October fourteenth.”

  Ohmygod! She was keeping track? October fourteenth. What was October fourteenth? “Wait. That was Artie’s grandmother’s funeral.”

  “Whatever,” Beth continued, “then in November I had to drive three days in a row.”

  “Yes, because I had to have my gallbladder out.”

  “A totally unnecessary surgery if you followed basic dietary guidelines. All I’m saying is I don’t appreciate being taken for granted. I am not your private chauffeur, and from now on—”

  “What?” A flustered Mindy pretended she was being called. “Okay, be there in a sec…Beth, sorry, I have to go. Artie is yelling for a plunger…” Because I can’t take your shit!

  “Did you call her?” Artie yelled from upstairs.

  “Oh yes.” Mindy raced to the foyer. “And not only did she accuse me of being a food whore who treats her like a chauffeur, she’s threatening to take her car pool business elsewhere.”

  “She said that? Wow! Call Morgan Freeman. Tell him we’ve got an idea for a sequel called Driving Miss Crazy.”

  “Exactly!” She laughed. “Now do I have your permission to kill her?”

  “Not until the country-club jails get Tivo…but what did she say? Will she drive?”

  “Nope. She requires a week’s notice in writing. Of course that’s never the case when she needs a favor. I swear she is the worst person ever, and don’t you dare start defending her.”

  “I’m not. But remember how nice she was when my grandmother died? She made that amazing dinner so we could eat when we got home from the cemetery. And that time Ricky’s igloo collapsed the night before it was due? She spent hours helping him rebuild it.”

  “Fine, so she occasionally acts nice. I still hate her and would appreciate it if you—” The phone rang. “Oh, joy. Twenty bucks says it’s her calling with more accusations.”

  “Why don’t you let me handle this?” Artie followed Mindy into the kitchen. “I know she intimidates you.”

  “She does not!” Mindy took a deep breath. “She just scares the crap out of me, but this time I’m going to speak my mind.”

  “Right.” Artie rolled his eyes.

  “I’ve decided that I will drive today because you’re giving me no choice,” Beth started in. “But there is a way you can make it up to me.”

  Raise your girls so you have more time to shop? “Sure. Anything.”

  “It so happens I will not be available to drive on April twelfth.”

  “No problem.” In most states, car pool changes aren’t even misdemeanors.

  “Actually, I will be in Chicago on business and I’m not sure what day I’m getting back.”

  Beth had business in Chicago? Wasn’t that generally limited to people who worked? “Are you going to one of Richard’s conventions?”

  “Frankly, I don’t see what concern it is of yours why I’m going, but if you must pry, I’ve been invited to participate in a creative competition sponsored by a Fortune 500 company.”

  “Oh God.” Mindy collapsed in a kitchen chair. “The one from Downtown Greetings?”

  “Yes. How did you know?”

  “Go get the letter!” Mindy ordered Artie. “Run!” She watched him scurry off. “Faster…The reason I know about it is…well, I entered it, too. The writing contest part.”

  “You can’t be serious. I, at least, have an award-winning art portfolio from my days at Grey Advertising. What do you have?”

  “What do I have? What do I have? I have years of experience buying cards. I’m a very big sender.”

  “Wow. Great résumé! At least when they see my design work, they’ll know they’re dealing with a pro.”

  “I guess. But the contest rules did say no experience necessary.”

  “So? Contest rules always say no purchase necessary, but do you believe that?”

  Yes?

  “Well what did your letter say?” Beth snapped. “Are you in? Are you going?”

  “I’ll let you know in a sec…Artie, where are you?”

  “Sorry.” His cheeks were flushed. “It fell behind the waste-basket.”

  “Probably an omen.” Mindy took the letter, but her vision was blurred. “I can’t read this.” She handed it back to him.

  “For God’s sake,” Beth snorted. “We’re not talking about a four-year ride to Harvard.”

  “No, I mean I don’t have my contacts in yet…what’s it say?” She began to pray.

  “Hold on. It’s a little confusing…We liked your entry, yadda, yadda, yadda…thousands of qualified applicants…”

  “I knew it! They rejected me.”

  “Well, of course.” Beth yawned. “You’re an amateur.”

  “And that’s why we look forward to having you join us at the Oakbrook Hills Marriott on Thursday, April twelfth, at nine a.m.!”

  “I’m in?” she squealed.

  “Looks like it.” He hugged her.

  “I’m in! Oh my God, I’m so excited, I’m in!”

  “You’re kidding?” Beth moaned. “Look and see if it’s addressed to you.”

  “Yes it’s addressed to me.” Mindy cried as if she’d won the contest. “I’m so happy. Artie was right. You have to stay positive.”

  “Well don’t get all cocky yet,” Beth said. “It’s only the preliminary round. And let’s be clear about something. I didn’t enter this silly thing because I’m a bored little housewife who needs a hobby. I’m doing it strictly for the networking opportunities, so please don’t expect us to hang out or anything.”

  “Sure.” Mindy didn’t dare retaliate now that Beth had agreed to drive.

  “And one other thing,” Beth went on. “I’m just reminding you to take in our mail while we’re away next week. I stopped the papers, but Richard likes to see the bills right away.”

  “Beth, wait. I can’t help you out. We won’t be here either.”

  “Really? You guys never go away.”

  “Well, it’s been a while, I know.” She watched Artie head upstairs.

  “What are you, like driving to Atlantic City?” Beth snickered.

  No, the Queen of England invited us to Balmoral. “Actually, it’s my birthday and my in-laws’ anniversary. They’re ta
king the whole family on a cruise to the western Caribbean.”

  “A cruise? Oh, gross! Those ships are like giant bacteria magnets. You board healthy and next thing you know, a thousand people are stuck in their cabins with Legionnaires’ disease.”

  And Artie calls me negative? “We heard they’re taking extra precautions now.”

  “Whatever. What are you doing with your mail?”

  “Filling out one of those vacation stop cards at the post office.”

  “Well do that for me, too, then, because I have so much going on before we leave.”

  Not me. I have three kids and a job. I wish I could think of good ways to kill the day.

  “Wait,” Beth said. “Maybe Nadine could take in our mail.”

  “But she doesn’t live in the neighborhood.” And she’s my friend, not yours.

  “Well I’m not going to pay her if that’s what you’re suggesting.”

  “I wasn’t suggesting anything.” Oh my God!

  “By the way, when is that new family moving in next door to you?”

  “In a few weeks, I think. Why?”

  “I could have asked them…What’s their story anyway? Have you met them?”

  “Yes and they were very sweet. I just can’t believe Nancy and Paul moved to Atlanta.”

  “Well in my opinion, she was crazy to say yes.”

  “She didn’t have a choice. Paul was transferred, got a big raise and a promotion—”

  “Oh, please. Not in a million years would I ever allow Richard to uproot our family. This is what happens to wives who let their husbands make decisions. Anyway, what’s their last name? I’m curious if it’s the family I heard about.”

  “Don’t remember. But she’s a dentist and he’s a something or other.”

  “That was helpful…Do they have kids?”

  “Yes, a little boy around two or three and I think she looked pregnant.”

  “Better her than me, but if it’s who I think, she has a sister who is building that humongous house on Halyard Drive.”

  “Oh gee. I would love to be on the open bay.”

  “Yeah, never gonna happen.”

  “Beth! Oh my God!”

  “What?” she whined. “I’m just saying…Anyway, the sister is supposed to be this hotshot divorce lawyer. I heard she scares the crap out of husbands.”

  “Well I’m sure she’s very nice when she’s not in court.”

  “Who cares? It’ll be like having a watch dog in the neighborhood. Might come in handy one day if—”

  “Beth, sorry to cut you off…I gotta go. Thanks for driving today. I’ll make it up to you.”

  “Damn right! And I’m picking a day when it’s pouring out, like now.”

  No, you’ll pick a day like Hurricane Katrina.

  “What happened?” Artie returned, wondering why Mindy’s hand was Krazy Glued to the phone.

  Her eyes welled. “Where should I start? She’s mad that we’re going away, she said cruises suck, she’s already got an attitude about the new neighbors, and get this…she entered the contest!”

  “What can I tell you?” He checked the time. “At least you stole some of her thunder and got her to do us a favor. Sounds to me like things are looking up.”

  Mindy nodded and wiped her eyes.

  “Mommy!” Ricky yelled from upstairs. “I throwed up again.”

  Beth laid on the horn. Finally the Shermans’ garage opened. It was bad enough she had to do the runs to both the middle school and elementary school this morning without having to be made to wait on top of it. “Oh, good,” she mumbled, “here comes Miss Chubby Cheeks.”

  “Mommy, stop it,” twelve-year-old Jessica said. “You promised you wouldn’t say mean things like that anymore. Stacie’s my friend, and Mrs. Hanley says when you say bad things about people you’re hurting yourself worse ’cause—”

  “I don’t know what you are talking about. I am very nice to her. I just don’t understand why she has to be so loud like her mother and it’s ridiculous that she’s always got crumbs on her clothes. She’s thirteen years old already. Look like a young lady!”

  “Hey, Jess. Hi, Mrs. Diamond,” Stacie sang. “My mom said to say thanks for driving.”

  “Any time,” Beth muttered.

  “Mommy?” Jessica asked. “Can me and Emma go over to their house after school?”

  “Not today. We have to finish shopping for our trip.”

  “I don’t think you could anyway,” Stacie said. “Ricky was barfing this morning.”

  “Oh Christ!” Beth snapped. “It better not be the flu! Jessica, do you have your hand sanitizer in your backpack?”

  “But Mom! Mrs. Hanley says that stuff is bad for you. It takes away the good germs.”

  “Enough with the Mrs. Hanley nonsense already. Is she leaving for Aruba in four days?”

  By the time Beth finished both school runs, she had six minutes to make it to her nail appointment. Of all times to be driving behind the USS Imbecile. Didn’t this guy know the accelerator was on the right? Finally he turned and Beth started to cruise down Sunrise Highway, fortunately behind a FedEx truck. They were always in a hurry, too!

  She just wished her right eye didn’t feel so saggy. Oy! What if the Botox had been injected too close to her eyebrow and she had the dreaded droopy eyelid? That’s what happened to her friend Jill. Except that Jill had gone to one of those clinics that got sued for using illegal batches, whereas Beth had gone to a board certified plastic surgeon chosen by New York magazine as “the eye guy you want to see.”

  She dropped the vanity mirror to take a quick peek, just as the FedEx driver decided not to run the yellow. Didn’t he have packages to deliver by ten thirty? She slammed on the brakes but was already on the truck’s tail, and the rain-slicked pavement showed no mercy.

  Within seconds she was eating an airbag. Fortunately it was lo-carb.

  Three

  It was after two when a bedraggled Mindy arrived home from the pediatrician, the bank, the hair salon, and Burger King. Just as Artie predicted, Ricky had a little nothing virus and was ready to rock and roll. She, however, was dying to crawl under the covers.

  Waspy said he’d review Artie’s figures but wasn’t making any promises. So now the only guarantee was that she’d be up nights working at her full-time job: worrying about their future. Thankfully she could count on being kept company by the Artie Sherman Trio: snoring, farting, and teeth grinding.

  En route to the powder room, Mindy noticed that the answering machine was blinking like crazy, which could mean only one thing. Everyone in her immediate circle was having a personal crisis that only she could avert.

  In just the past week, she’d watched Karen Gold’s kids after school so that her neighbor wouldn’t have to rush home from the city. The next day, Mindy waited for the painter at Meryl Shechtman’s house, thereby enabling Meryl to keep her appointment with her therapist. And in an uncharacteristic act of chutzpah, Mindy posed as a tough-talking lawyer in a phone conversation with the electrician who had botched a lighting installation in Nadine’s kitchen. So convincing were her threats, the guy hightailed it back to work that afternoon.

  As for who was calling today, however, every call was from Beth. Seems she had smashed her new Lexus “all because you are so goddamned irresponsible” (beep) “and you forced me to be late” (beep) “and this never would have happened if you had driven like you were supposed to” (beep) “and my face is an absolute mess. I’ll see you in court.” (beep)

  “Hey! Did I tell her to drive like Danica Patrick?” Mindy asked the answering machine. It was no secret that Beth had been picked up for speeding so often, a cop gave her a season ticket.

  Then the phone rang and she froze. Ever since Ricky decided his tree house wasn’t complete without caller ID, they had to go back to answering the kitchen phone the old-fashioned way: guessing.

  “Hello?” she answered. Please be a chimney cleaner. “Hi. No, I didn’t listen to my messages yet…
Oh. Sorry. Yeah. I must have had my cell on vibrate…Oh my God. Are you all right? That’s unbelievable! First Domino’s is slowing down, now FedEx. Who can you trust?”

  But the news didn’t end there. Seems that the Diamonds’ auto insurance policy only had a small rental allowance, which forced Beth to choose between “some shitty little tin box from Detroit” and a Korean car with cloth seats “and NO NAVIGATION!”

  “I should never have let Richard handle these matters,” Beth fumed. “How the hell does he expect me to show up at the club with some little piece of crap car?”

  “I’m really sorry, Beth,” Mindy fought the giggles. “But at least you weren’t badly hurt. That’s the main thing.”

  “Oh bull! My eye droops, my cheek is bruised, and my whole face is red from powder burns from the airbag. I look like I went ten rounds in the ring. Wait until everyone hears what you did to me.”

  “Mom! Mommy! Mommmm!” little Ricky screamed from the staircase.

  “Jeez!” Mindy said to Nadine. “If I was passed out on the kitchen floor, my kids would step over me to get to the fridge. But the second I pick up the phone…What is it?” she hollered.

  Ricky rushed into her bedroom, cheeks flushed with news. “Emma fell. She’s crying.”

  “Oh my God, Nadine, I gotta go…If I suddenly disappear, check Beth’s trunk.”

  Mindy flew downstairs to find Stacie, Jamie, Jessica, and Ricky all huddled around Emma, who was crumpled in a ball at the bottom of the staircase. She was holding her ankle and sobbing. “It hurts. I want my mommy.”

  “What happened?” Mindy demanded.

  The elder statesmen, Stacie and Jessica, started talking at the same time. “We were just playing hide-and-seek.”

  “Ricky was it and Emma couldn’t find a good place to hide.”

  “She musta tripped on something running away.”

  “I can’t feel my fooooot….”

  Mindy looked around. The staircase was beginning to resemble a mini landfill right down to the falling debris. But clutter had never been an issue the Shermans spent much time debating. Beth’s kids, on the other hand, lived in a hospital-clean house. The first time she and Artie got the grand tour, she whispered, “What? No velvet ropes?”