For a split second, I think he is serious, but then I notice a broad grin cross his face and he adds a wink. My face flushes and I am infuriated at the same time.
“Keep it,” I practically growl as I find myself racing down the sidewalk to get away from this vexatious man. Why is he so damn good looking, though? It makes it impossible to hate him! I hear the front door slam as I am considering this conundrum.
Startled, I turn. That’s when I notice that all the cars are in the driveway. The nearest church is five miles away and a bit of a hike. Especially in this heat. Walter and Mary definitely did not go to church.
Later on, my hand is on the phone. The events of the day are weighing heavily on my mind and I want someone to reassure me there’s nothing weird going on. I need to talk to a fellow neurotic and bad mommy, my buddy Laura.
“Yellow?” A small voice pipes into the phone after I dial Laura’s cell phone. Anyone else would think they had the wrong number.
“Hi, Frankie. Put Mommy on please,” I tell the triplet on the other end of the phone.
“Who’s this?” he asks and I can tell he is chewing on something.
“It’s Mrs. Maxwell.” I hear the phone being tossed aside. Heavy hammering of footsteps follow. I can hear Frankie calling his mother to tell her that I’m on the line and her telling him to bring her the phone. And then...nothing.
“Didn’t I tell you to bring me the phone? What’s taking so long?” I hear Laura’s muffled question.
“I forgot where I put the phone!” The six year old replies.
Oh crap.
“Well where did you leave it?” His mother asks with agitation.
“Here! I’m over here!” I call through the phone, hoping one of them will hear me wherever I’ve been tossed.
“I don’t know!” Frankie wails.
“Jesus, Frankie!” Laura is definitely aggravated now.
“The phone is over here!” I continue to call out.
Evan toddles into the room just then and his eyes grow wide as he sees the phone in my hand.
“Phone!”
Evan absolutely adores babbling on the phone. I had to put all the cordless phones up high once he learned to walk because he was constantly grabbing them and pressing buttons. He called Australia once, much to my dismay. But there is one benefit to his phone obsession. I will hand the phone over to him whenever a telemarketer calls. He loves telemarketers. And they rarely ever call back after a mind boggling conversation with Evan.
I shake my head. “No phone, Evan. Mommy phone.” I realize I am speaking like a moron but that’s what happens when the most mental stimulation I get in a day is from Sesame Street.
“Hello?” Laura is breathless on the other end of the phone after finally locating it.
“Hi!” I perk up. “I’m glad I caught you…”
“Well probably not for too long because…no! Seriously put him down before you break his other elbow! Matthew! I’m not kidding!” I hear Laura drop the phone.
I use the time to offer Evan a soggy cookie so that he doesn’t climb on the island in attempts to snatch the phone out of my hand.
“Sorry.” Laura is back on the line. “Daryl is traveling for work and I swear the kids are even worse than usual. He’s been gone three days and I’m ready to put the triplets on Ebay.”
Three days? Geez. I had no idea. I hardly got to speak to her yesterday at Colt’s party. And I can’t remember the last time we uttered more than a handful of words to each other on the phone.
“Damn, Laura, that sucks. I’m sorry we didn’t get to talk at the…Evan Maxwell!” I am temporarily distracted as Evan stomps in the dog’s water bowl sending a spray of water all over the refrigerator door. It’s amazing how a conversation between two moms ends up sounding like a battle between people with Tourette’s.
“No big deal. I’m sorry we had to run off like that. Mason strikes again.” Mason pretty much puked once a week. Laura’s had him checked out numerous times and all the doctor can come up with is “nervous stomach”. I don’t even think that’s a real thing.
“Oh yeah, is he ok?” I ask with concern.
“Of course. He stopped puking the minute he dug into the goodie bag.”
Ha. Typical. I had filled goodie bags with the cheap candy that the kids loved. Beth turned her nose up at them, of course, and left them at my house.
“Ooo, and I’m sorry about my sister.” This whole conversation thus far had just been one long string of apologies. It was typical of my conversations with Laura lately, each of us apologizing for our kids and their barbarian acts. Beth put a new twist on things, though.
“Oh please,” Laura scoffs. “How long have I known you? You think Beth is going to get to me?”
“Well she gets to me and I’ve known her for 35 years,” I point out.
“You let her bother you. I tell you this all the time. Who cares what Beth thinks?”
“It’s not that I really care what she thinks. It’s just the fact that she makes me feel like a crap mother…”
“Ha! If you’re a crap mother than I’m a shit mother.”
“You’re not a shit mother. But speaking of a shit mother, guess what I did today…” I hear tinkling of glass in the background.
“Oh damn it! Frankie! Now you need to clean that up!”
There is the sound of crying and shouting followed by an abrupt, “Amy, I’ll have to call you later when we get back from the emergency room!” A click and a dial tone follow. I am left with the phone in my hand and absolutely no closer to finding out if I am justified in my concerns or just a crazy, neurotic mom.
Staring at the now beeping phone in my hand, I wonder who else can assuage my fears. I can’t talk to Roger because I certainly cannot mention how Jason’s heart made me flutter in my chest even if it is most likely because I sense he’s dangerous. Plus, Roger has already blown off my concerns.
As much as I love Joey, I won’t call her, either. She doesn’t have kids and won’t understand the menaces I see lurking everywhere. Hell, the woman backpacked across Europe and lived in hostels without knowing a single soul. I need someone who is just as protective as I am about my kids.
Beth? No way. She will blow things even further out of proportion and somehow insult me in the process. Mom? I shake my head. No, she’s worse than Beth and even more unreasonable if that’s humanly possible. As I return the phone to its cradle, I realize I’m going to have ignore my Mommy radar that is currently blipping out of control.
~SEVEN~
The doorbell rings and I rise to answer it, smoothing down my silky, salon styled hair. I throw open the door to find Jason standing on the porch, smiling shyly. My heart flutters.
“Amy, I’m sorry to barge in on you like this, but I couldn’t wait.”
I glance around at the empty living room and then step out onto the porch, closing the door behind me. “It’s okay,” I tell him. “The kids are all in the backyard. Except for Allie. But she never comes out of her room anyway.”
“And Roger?” he asks with concern.
I wave my hand in front of my face. “Roger is at school. I won’t see him again until June.”
His grin turns sly as he takes a step closer towards me. My fluttering heart is now racing, my breath coming fast and hard. I can feel the heat radiating from his sizzling body as his hand lightly brushes my arm.
“That’s excellent,” he murmurs as he leans towards my ear. “They won’t even know then…” His lips graze my earlobe, sending chills throughout my body. He scoops me into his arms and I feel as if my body is melting into his like a chocolate bar.
“Oh, Jason,” I sigh, as I allow his warm breath on my neck to relax me.
“I knew I had to kiss you the first moment I laid eyes on you,” he tells me, drawing me closer to his muscular body. I close my eyes and…
I race downstairs because whoever is at the door is ringing it urgently. When I reach the living room, I suck in my breath. I was literally upstairs for less t
han ten minutes putting Evan down for his nap yet the room looks like a small tornado touched down in that time. There are Goldfish crackers dotting the floor in Morse Code, couch cushions thrown everywhere and the dog is licking up juice that is dripping from a Sippy cup. She greets me with a half-hearted head lift in acknowledgement of the mess.
“What the hell happened here, Misty?” I ask, as her eyes say, I told them and told them to knock it off, but they didn’t listen. I just knew you’d be mad, Mom. That’s why I’m taking care of this juice spill here…
I sigh as I turn down the deafening volume on the TV that nobody is watching and I open the front door.
Sean is on the front porch bashfully staring down at his bright orange Nike cross trainers. I glance over his shoulder to see the front door of the Sanders’ house close. Was that Jason?
Over the course of the last week, I had looked for Jason every day in vain. His car left early in the morning and came back after I went to bed. If I hadn’t seen him with my own two eyes, I would wonder if he hadn’t been made up.
I did notice Mary outside the last couple days, watering her plants as usual. The few times I tried to strike up a conversation with her about Jason, she got a little flustered and made some lame excuse to go inside.
“Uh, hi, Sean,” I remark casually as he thrusts my Tupperware container into my hands.
“My Grammy says to give you this,” he mutters, his eyes darting around. He is craning his neck trying to see inside the house. He probably wants to play with Colt. Should I let him? I chew on my bottom lip. He’s harmless, Amy.
“Do you want to come in?” I ask. “Colt is in the backyard.”
His head swivels and he glances back toward his house. “I’m only supposed to drop of the cookie container,” he tells me nervously. “I should ask my dad. Or Grammy. They would be worried about me if I don’t ask them. They were worried when I didn’t ask them last week.”
I nod, relieved. “Sure. I understand.” I am about to close the door when I notice a maroon colored Buick pull slowly down the street and stop in front of the Sanders’ house. There are two men in the front seat wearing dark sunglasses. The man in the passenger seat nervously scans the street and then exits the vehicle when it stops completely. In addition to a briefcase in his hand, he is wearing dark tan khakis, an olive green dress shirt and a tie with colors I can’t make out from the front porch. The driver makes a K turn in the middle of the street and speeds off. My interest is instantly peaked.
“I’m sure it’s okay,” I suddenly say to Sean while watching the man stride rapidly up the sidewalk, glancing from side to side. I pull my body flush with the door and yank Sean inside so the man can’t see us. The Sanders’ front door swings open without the man even ringing the bell. I can’t tell who opened the door. I really need to update my contact prescription, I think while squinting. The man steps inside the house and disappears as the door closes behind him. “I’m sure it’s okay if you hang out for a little bit,” I repeat.
“Hi, Sean!” I hear Colt’s perky voice behind me, which causes me to jump. “You wanna come play with me in my fort?”
Sean bobs his head. “Yeah. But I have to ask my dad. Or my Grammy.”
“My mom can ask. She always makes my playdates. Right, Mom?” Colt volunteers as he gazes up at me with his big blue eyes. I cringe at the word playdate. It’s like nails on a chalkboard.
“Sure, Colt,” I respond easily without even asking him if he finished his homework. “Why don’t you guys go in the backyard and have fun?”
Gee, you didn’t have to twist my arm. Now I have an excuse to go across the street and have another look around. There has to be a logical explanation to all this.
Sean looks skeptical. “I don’t know. I have to ask Dad…”
No! He might say no and I’ll lose this opportunity to snoop, er, I mean uh, say hello and be neighborly.
I pat Sean on the shoulder because I can’t reach the top of his head. “I’ll go ask for you. I’m sure it’s fine. Plus, it’s going to be dark soon. You don’t want to miss out on playing with Colt, do you?” Translation: Roger will be home soon and I don’t want him to see me snooping around.
Sean stares at me for a moment as if he is considering my question. I impatiently wave my hand in front of my face. “Sorry, that was just a rhetorical question.”
Colt wrinkles up his forehead as if he is thinking really hard. “What’s a retarical question?”
I open my mouth to respond with “never mind”, but I don’t get the chance.
“A rhetorical question is a question asked merely for effect with no answer expected because the answer is obvious,” Sean remarks with an expressionless affect. Colt now looks even more perplexed.
“Uh, yes, Sean. Thank you. Why don’t you guys hurry along now?”
Sean still appears wary, but follows Colt as he bounds through the living room. I glance at the clock on the cable box. Evan has only been down for his nap for about ten minutes. With any luck, I have another ten minutes until he wakes up. Closing the front door quietly, I scurry down the front walk and headed straight towards Mistake #3.
Walk normally, you twit! Don’t look suspicious! You’re just going across the street to tell them that Sean is playing with Colt. In fact, you would just pick up the phone and call, but you don’t have their phone number. This has nothing to do with the strange and suspicious acting man that just went into their house. Nothing at all.
Scampering up the front steps of the Sanders residence, I attempt to peer in the front window before ringing the bell. I stand there like an idiot for a moment before I remember that the bell is broken. I rap quietly on the door and wait for footsteps to indicate that someone is coming to answer, but I hear none.
Hmmm. That’s strange. There has to be someone home. I just saw the man go inside.
I consider that maybe I need to knock louder just as I notice Roger’s car pull into the driveway. He clamors out of the front seat, looking harried and haggard. His tie is hanging lifelessly from his neck, his collar askew. What’s left of his hair is rumpled and his shoulders are slumped forward as he slogs up the sidewalk, briefcase hanging limply from his hand. And the school year just started.
For a second, I almost feel sorry for the guy. Then I recall how my day started and all sympathy flies out the window. Colt tied Misty to a tree and sprayed her with the hose. She thrashed around trying to escape, trampling my rose bushes and getting thorns in her paws. When I finally shut the water off and freed her, she growled at me, furious about the torture she had endured. She wouldn’t let me touch her paws and limped off to the edge of the yard to lick her wounds. That was at 8 am before school.
“Roger!” I call out.
He turns to the sound of my voice, surprised to see me across the street.
“What are you doing, Amy?” he asks, perplexed expression on his face.
“I’ve got to let them know that Sean is playing with Colt!” I shout back. The quizzical look remains unchanged.
“Who?”
“Colt! Our son?” Seriously Roger…
He shoots me an exaggerated look. “Not Colt, Amy. Who is Sean?”
“The kid that lives across the street!” I shout back. He still looks confused. He has apparently forgotten our conversation from the other night completely.
“Typical,” I mutter under my breath before shouting, “Just keep an eye on the kids!” That statement looks like it causes him an angina attack.
“Are you going to be long? I’m really hungry!”
I narrow my eyes at him. Even from across the street I know he sees my annoyance because he shakes his head and I hear him mutter, “I guess I’ll get the take out menus.”
I ignore him as I turn back to the door and am prepared to knock, except Mary is standing in the open doorway. I let out a little gasp and clutch my chest.
“Oh, Mary! You scared me!” I let out a nervous titter. Mary does not seem too pleased to see me.
&
nbsp; “Hello, Amy. Can I help you?” Her clipped tone clearly indicates that she is not the least bit interested in helping me. In fact, her voice seems to indicate that she wants me to go the hell away.
I smile brightly at her regardless. “Hi, Mary! I just wanted to let you know that Sean stopped over to bring back my container and Colt invited him to play and he wanted me to check to see if that was okay with-”
She cuts me off, nearly closing the door in my face in the process. “Yes that’s fine,” she snaps. “Just send him home by bedtime.” The door slams, shaking the railings on the porch.
I stare at the door, my mouth gaping open. What the heck just happened here?
The window to the left of the porch is open and I hear a door slam from inside the house.
“Is she gone?” asks a male voice that I don’t recognize. It doesn’t sound like Walter and it’s definitely not Jason. His voice is husky and throaty…like a country singer. This voice is just plain gruff. And rude. I can only assume the “she” he is referring to is me.
“Yes,” Mary says softly. “I hate having to be so evasive all the time. Especially to Amy. She seems so nice.”
“Don’t start with the whole “seems so nice” bit. You can’t trust anyone. You can’t let your guard down. You know what happens when you let your guard down,” the gruff voice remarks. “Need I remind you about Stacey?”
“I know, I know,” Mary replies. It sounds as if she is about to cry.
“What are we going to do about this problem?” asks the owner of the deep voice.
“I really think we need to make a move before everyone gets suspicious. Jason said that Amy was snooping around in our kitchen last week,” Mary replies. My chest constricts, making it difficult to breathe. I feel light headed and faint. Why are they talking about me?
And then, I hear shuffling and scraping, like furniture being moved. What are they doing in there? What is going on?
I am certain that the answer to the mystery that plagues me can only be answered by finding out what’s going on in that room, I glance down the street and can see that there is nobody around so I swing one leg over the railing in order to get closer to the house and possibly look in the window. I grab onto the shutter and pull myself into a standing position. Standing on the railing now, Amy? Yeah. I know. Totally unsafe. I would be having a cow if I caught Colt doing this.
The 8 Mistakes of Amy Maxwell Page 8