The 8 Mistakes of Amy Maxwell

by Heather Balog

  “Probably because he doesn’t have any of his own friends,” Allie’s new BFF Victoria had offered with a snort and a giggle. She was perched in the corner on my chair, rocking back and forth. I was seething with fury. That was my rocking chair.

  That was the first time I had officially met Victoria. She had glided into my living room with her pierced navel clearly visible because her tee shirt was obviously purchased in the toddler section. Her hair was that same black color Allie’s had been before I dragged her to the salon to get it lightened and I instantly realized that this girl was most likely responsible for the jet black dye job to begin with.

  “That’s really not nice, Victoria,” I had admonished with annoyance. Sean could have heard her. He didn’t, but that was beside the point. Someone needed to teach that girl some manners. Obviously her own mother wasn’t doing the job.

  Just then, another one of Allie’s friends waltzed through the doorway, a blonde girl named Nikki or Nitti or something like that. I couldn’t really hear what Allie said because all three girls immediately dashed up to Allie’s room.

  Startled, I called after Allie, “Hey! Don’t you want to wait for Kaitlyn?”

  The two other girls stared at my daughter who was turning an interesting shade of maroon.

  “Kaitlyn?” Victoria squeaked, covering her mouth. “Really?”

  Allie’s eyes widened as she replied, “Um, Kaitlyn’s not coming, Mother.” Her annoyed/sarcastic voice victoriously cut through the nervous stammer. Then she spun on her heel and joined the other two witches of the coven, er, I mean girls, and headed into her bedroom complete with door slam.

  Now, I guess I should have left well enough alone, but as you have realized by now, I try to fix things and sometimes to a fault.

  Of course I picked up the phone just then and called Laura.

  “Hello?” she answered breathlessly after about seventeen rings.

  “Hey, what are you up to?” I asked casually.

  “Oh God, I made the mistake of cleaning out the triplets’ toy box while Daryl took them to a birthday party. I have now filled nine garbage bags with crap. And by garbage bags, I mean those giant contractor sized ones. What’s up?” I smiled to myself as I could almost see her pushing away that one blonde curl that constantly flops over her eye. Luckily for Laura, her beauty was effortless.

  “What’s Kaitlyn doing tonight?” I inquired.

  I heard Laura snort on the other end. “Besides being holed up in her lair painting her fingernails black and sticking pins in a Mommy voodoo doll?”

  I resisted the urge to commiserate simply because I was on a mission. Kaitlyn and Allie had been friends for way too long and I liked Kaitlyn. I liked her mother. I liked her family. I knew her family. All qualities I could not attribute to the Witches of Eastwick that were now in Allie’s room.

  “Allie’s having a few friends from school sleep over. She forgot to text Kaitlyn and…” Insert plausible lie here… “she couldn’t find her phone so I’m calling to invite her over.”

  Laura perked up. “You don’t want a set of twins, too, do you?”

  Half an hour later, Kaitlyn was on my doorstep.

  “Hi, honey,” I remarked warmly as she brushed past me, heading towards Allie’s bedroom. She let out a grunt of recognition.

  Sighing, I waved to Laura in her sapphire blue minivan, parked at my curb. The passenger window lowered as I stepped onto the sidewalk.

  “Hey, you!” I called out, waving enthusiastically to my long lost friend.

  “Hey yourself,” she replied, leaning towards the window. “What’s up?”

  I leaned on the car, poking my head in the window. Laura’s minivan was completely devoid of children. “Wow,” I remarked with a low whistle. “How did you manage to escape?”

  Laura gave me a sly grin. “Told Daryl I needed to run to the grocery store and he either had to watch the kids or go himself.”

  I nodded with understanding. “Ah, the old grocery store trick.” Men hate the grocery store and avoid it like the plague.

  “Hey, it’s the closest I’m getting to a vacation any time soon,” Laura pointed out.

  “I hear ya.” Then I recalled that I’ve wanted to talk to her for several days. I was still shaken up about Jason’s comment. I glanced at his house just as he pulled up to the curb in his sedan.

  I cast my eyes downward as he jumped from the front seat and slammed his car door, praying he wouldn’t notice me. For the past week he had been cordial whenever he saw me, but there was a weird uncomfortableness lingering in the air. It almost felt like that calm that comes before a summer storm; that electricity that you can almost taste in the atmosphere.

  “Dear Lord in heaven, who is that?” Laura practically purred as she lowered her window to get a better look. “He is scrumptious.”

  I felt my face heating up. Jason did look particularly tasty in a pair of track shorts that hugged his rounded bottom and a tee shirt cut off at the sleeves. His hair was messy and tussled and I could make out the faint outline of a sweat stain on his shirt. I bet he had been at the gym. “Um, that’s Jason. Our new neighbor.”

  Laura raised her eyebrows. “The old people moved out?”

  I shook my head, realizing I never even got to tell my friend about my run ins with Jason. “No, that’s their son. Sean’s father.”

  “Sean?” Laura gave me an odd look.

  “Oh, I never told you about Sean? He’s the kid who lives across the street.”

  “Wait a minute,” Laura kicked off her flip flop and pulled her leg underneath her butt, getting comfy. “How many people live across the street?”

  “Apparently four,” I replied with a shrug. “But who the hell knows, people keep showing up all the time.”

  Laura raised her eyebrows. “Weird.”

  I bobbed my head enthusiastically. “I know.” I glanced around looking for one of my wayward children and then climbed in the car when I saw the coast was clear. Sean had left shortly after the sleepover guests arrived. Evan and Colt were asleep. Hopefully Lexie was zonked out in front of the TV with her doll.

  “The whole thing is really suspicious, Laur,” I whispered. “I can’t put my finger on it, but that Jason is acting weird. Like really strange behavior.”

  Laura’s face lit up at the prospect of gossip. “Ooo, is he like a neighborhood gigolo?”

  “No!” I yelped. “Not like that.” And then I considered this possibility for about six seconds before I gulped and continued, “I think it’s drug related.”

  Laura’s brown eyes nearly pop out of her head. “Oh my God, I can’t believe you said that.” She grips my arm, her nails digging into my skin. “Amy, I’m really worried about Kaitlyn! Maybe that’s her problem! Drugs! I haven’t said anything to Daryl and-”

  I could feel a chill course through my body just then. “What makes you think she’s into drugs?” I asked cautiously. Kaitlyn and Allie were best friends. If Kaitlyn was into drugs, chances are, so was Allie.

  Laura loosens her grip and runs her fingers through her hair. “Not any one thing. She’s just been so unsociable and moody…”

  Sighing with relief, I repeated the mantra that other mothers of teens (and Roger) had drilled into my head. “That’s just teenagers, Laura.”

  My friend shook her head. “No. It’s more than that. She doesn’t want to do anything. Maybe she’s depressed or something. I had to practically drag her over here tonight.”

  “Really?” Wait a minute…Allie hadn’t invited Kaitlyn and Kaitlyn hadn’t wanted to come? That was certainly strange. What was going on here?

  The answer to that question was answered about three heartbeats later when my front door slammed and Kaitlyn, complete with overnight bag slung across her chest, came storming out of the house with an audible huff. She marched down my front lawn and pulled open the sliding door to the minivan. Her face was flushed and unreadable as she crossed her arms over her chest.

  “Just drive,” she m
umbled angrily to her mother as she slumped down in her seat.

  Laura and I stared at each other for a second.

  “What’s wrong, honey?” Laura asked in a motherly fashion.

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” she growled, anxiously picking at her fingernails. I knew this was a nervous habit of Kaitlyn’s.

  “Did something happen between you and Allie?” I inquired with concern.

  “I said, I don’t want to talk about it!” Kaitlyn answered with a screech.

  Laura shot me an apologetic look as I climbed out of the car. “I guess I’ll go speak with Allie,” I whispered.

  “I don’t want to ever talk to her again!” Kaitlyn shouted as her mother turned the key in the ignition. It was my turn to shoot her an apologetic look as she drove off with her pouting teenager. I wondered what my daughter had done to insult her best friend.

  With apprehension, I approached Allie’s bedroom door. I heard the vulgar music blaring from within and it made me cringe. “Al?” I rapped on her bedroom door timidly. No response. “Allie?” I knocked louder, this time I was met by the sound of the stereo being cranked up, Allie’s typical passive aggressive “I’m not answering you” move.

  Agitated, I attempted to turn the handle of the door and the knob came off in my hand. Damn it!

  “Allie!” I thumped loudly on the door with my fist. “Open this fucking door!” Mid pound, the door swung open. Allie was standing before me with her eyes even more heavily made up than usual. She seriously looked like she had face planted on a Macy’s makeup counter.

  “What!” she shouted. It was more like an exclamation rather than a question.

  “Why did Kaitlyn leave?” I can see the other two girls huddled over something on the bed. A mirror. Shit, they better not be snorting coke! I craned my neck and sighed with relief when I realized they were applying glitter around their eyes.

  Victoria’s head bobbed up just then. One eyelid looked like the Little Mermaid meets Vegas Showgirl. “That loser?” she remarked with a menacing laugh. “Please! Allie would never been seen with the likes of her.” Her answer was followed up by a giggle from the other girl, whatever the hell her name was.

  I stared at my daughter whose facial expression is a mixture of horror and embarrassment. “Allie, what is she talking about?”

  Allie rolled her eyes. “Duh, Mother. Kaitlyn is a dweeb. We don’t hang out with dweebs.” The other girls laughed as Allie preceded to slam the door in my perplexed face.

  Two days later, I am now staring at that same door at 5:00 in the morning, tempted to creep in and wake her up and demand that she explain why she has tossed off a childhood friend of almost ten years for the likes of Victoria and Nikki. Something is definitely not right with my teen and I recall Jason’s chilling words as I wrap my robe tighter around my waist and head down the stairs to make a cup of coffee.

  I nearly trip over the dog who manages to tangle herself up under my feet as I enter the kitchen.

  “Damn it, Misty,” I mutter as I open the French doors, allowing her to head out to the backyard. It’s a crisp morning, but not as chilly as I had anticipated. Over the horizon, I see the sun is starting to creep up. I’ve always wanted to watch the sun rise, so I finish brewing my coffee and then head out to the front porch.

  The wicker rocker groans in protest as I lower my body onto it and lean back, closing my eyes to enjoy the early morning breeze. It’s supposed to be a scorcher later on, so I am appreciating the pre-dawn relief as I sip my coffee gingerly. Dawn has always been my favorite time of day, when anything seemed possible and problems seemed inconsequential.

  As I sigh, I open my eyes and glance across the street noticing there is a light on in the front bedroom. A shadowy figure passes in front of the window and based on size and build, I am guessing that it is Jason.

  Suddenly, the curtains part slightly and I can see that it is definitely Jason. With a pair of binoculars. He pokes the binoculars against the glass and is focusing on something across the street. My pulse quickens as I remember my dream and consider the possibility that I may be psychic. But then I realize, our blinds are closed and I’m certain he wouldn’t be watching Roger in bed anyway. I am wondering what he is looking at until I realize, Allie’s bedroom is on that side of the house! Is he looking inside my daughter’s bedroom?

  I cover my mouth with my hand and try not to make any noise as I watch my neighbor adjust the zoom on his binoculars. Shit! He’s trying to look in the window!

  Seething inside, I leap to my feet and dash into the house, not even caring if he has seen me. I take the steps inside two at a time rushing to Allie’s room.

  Of course, the door is locked as usual. I jiggle the knob and rap lightly on the door. “Al?” I whisper, hoping not to wake up any other family members.

  “Whatcha doing, Mommy?”

  I nearly leap out of my skin as I discover Lexie standing next to me, hidden in the shadows.

  “Jesus, Lex! Stop sneaking up on me like that!” I squeal in shock.

  Her lip quivers as I can see she is contemplating whether to cry or not. Her mind is evaluating whether crying or not crying would be more beneficial for her in this particular situation.

  She opts for the crying. “I’m sorry, Mommy! I just wanted to say good morning!” She is now wailing.

  Oh good Lord.

  Lexie’s cries solicit screeching from across the hall in Evan’s bedroom.

  “Damn it,” I mutter staring at Allie’s bedroom door. I’ll check on her in a few minutes. I shuffle towards the fire engine like noise. Soon the whole house will be up.

  Evan is standing in his crib, hair sticking up in adorable blonde tufts around his head. “Good morning Mr. Sleepyhead,” I coo, attempting to calm him before he gets too carried away. I scoop him into my arms. He smells like poop. I sigh audibly. I might as well get him ready for the day now.

  Allie’s door creaks open and I hear her bark, “Get out of my way, brat.” I can only assume she is talking to Lexie. I need to hurry up and change this diaper so I can dash into her room and pull the shade down.

  As I plop Evan on the changing table, Lexie appears at my elbow.

  “I need to go to the bathroom and Allie has been in there for like an hour!” Lexie moans. Ok, cue the dramatic over-exaggeration. Allie has been up for all of thirty seconds.

  I suck on my teeth. I have been asking Roger to put in another bathroom for two years now. We have the half bath downstairs that the kids refuse to use because it smells like Roger. In the mornings, it’s mass chaos around here with the one shower.

  “Use the downstairs bathroom, Lexie,” I tell her.

  “But I need to take a shower!” she whimpers.

  “Then you’ll have to wait for your sister to come out,” I tell her flatly.

  “Why is she in there so long?” Lexie whines.

  “I don’t know, honey. Maybe she’s just having girl issues,” I manage to mumble.

  “Does she have her period?” Lexie inquires in her usual sing song manner.

  Alarmed, I spin around. “Uh, I don’t know,” I stutter nervously. Yes, I know she is ten, but Lexie is my dumb naïve child. As far as I knew, she doesn’t have any clue about periods, boobs or puberty. I want her to stay a baby for a little longer! I was praying that adolescence would remain at bay for at least another year or two, but someone up there obviously was a comedian. Ooo, give her two girls going through puberty at the same time! We can pull up our chairs and watch this sitcom unfold!

  “That might be why she’s so cranky,” Lexie volunteers.

  I eye her suspiciously. “Why do you say that?”

  “Oh, because Gigi told me that she gets soooo cranky when she has her period,” Lexie informs me. That explains it. Gigi is our babysitter and is probably more than experienced in the sagas of a worldly woman. Heaven only knows what misinformation and gory details she has filled Lexie in on. I will have to remember to speak with her about that the next time she b
abysits. But then after our last disastrous date, that might be around the time when Lexie is actually in college.

  “Oh, well. That happens sometimes I guess,” I shrug indifferently. I am sooooo not in the mood for the puberty discussion as I unleash the toxic scent by undoing the Velcro attached to Evan’s diaper.

  Lexie doesn’t even flinch as she asks, “But why?”

  “But why, what?” I blindly feel around on the shelf for the wipes as I attempt to keep Evan still. Changing a shitty diaper should be an Olympic sport in my opinion. I’d get a gold medal for sure after having four kids. I think you should get points added to your score if you can manage it without getting crap on any part of your body or clothes. And pee in the face is an automatic deduction of ten points.

  Lexie hands me the wipes and clarifies her question, “Why does she get cranky? Is she sad that she’s bleeding? I get sad when I bleed, too, but I cry. I don’t think I get cranky.” Oh geez. She’s still on the period question.

  “I cry, too. But for joy,” I mumble, my mind racing to come up with a decent answer for my inquisitive child. Despite the fact Roger had gotten snipped right after Evan’s birth at my insistence (I believe I withheld sex for two months before he did it), I still held my breath once a month waiting for blood on the toilet paper and usually thanked the Lord profusely when it happened. Once I was in a stall at Chuck E. Cheese and my period had been late. I believed that time I praised God, Buddha and Allah…loudly. I got a round of applause from another mother in the stall next to mine. She was in there with her three kids under the age of four.

  “But why? Why do you cry for joy?” Lexie asks, handing me a diaper.

  I groan. I really do not have the stamina for the birds and bees conversation with my youngest daughter who would undoubtedly ask “why?” at least three hundred and sixty two times during the lecture. This would be a conversation best had over milk and cookies when I am calm and relaxed. And have a bottle of wine already on board.