The Queen Gene

by Jennifer Coburn

  “Holy shit,” escaped from my lips.

  “Holy shit!” Adam repeated, though regrettably volumes louder than I had just whispered.

  “Who the hell is that?” Jack asked.

  “Who the hell is that?” Kimmy demanded.

  Running to find Renee, Dan continued. “Baby, I’m so sorry for the way I treated you. Give me another chance to make it right.” When he reached his wife, Dan grabbed her hands and got down on one knee. “Marry me again and I promise I’ll make you happy this time.”

  Looking uncharacteristically bewildered, Renee said nothing. Faidra rushed to her defense. “Dan, don’t be such a selfish oaf. We’re in the middle of someone else’s wedding here. Talk to Renee about this later.”

  “I can’t wait another minute, Renee,” he shouted for all to hear. “I need you to take me back.”

  “Dan, not now,” Renee finally spoke.

  There was a moment of uncomfortable silence as everyone’s eyes were fixed on the fat man kneeling before the Junior League. Kimmy then burst into tears, claiming her wedding was a disaster. That was enough to bring in the big guns.

  Anjoli stood from her chair, holding J.Lo in the crook of her arm. “Well, darlings, I hope everyone has enjoyed the fabulous show my gorgeous daughter and her husband have put on for you today. It would have been enough to come and see the work of these magnificent artists, but never one to settle for fabulousness, our hosts have cleverly injected their own brand of guerilla theater this afternoon. What delightful social commentary on the state of marriage today when we witness before us two stunningly beautiful people wearing little more than a layer of paint interrupted by not one but two separate incidents of humping dogs.” The crowd laughed. Unbelievably, they were buying it. I knew that when my mother used excessive superlatives, she was grasping for straws, but no one else seemed to catch on. A few heads nodded as if to show that they understood this terribly sophisticated performance piece. “We have staged for you here today both a literal and a figurative humping dog scene to illustrate the challenges that every marriage faces.” What? Faidra and Anderson held hands and glanced at each other adoringly. Oddly, so did about a half dozen other couples. “As we see, the first dog tore the pant leg from the groom, symbolizing the emasculation attempts every groom faces by other men out there in the world.” Man, was my mother reaching on this one. Walking toward the wedding cake, my mother picked up the cutting knife and held it over her head as if she were going to stab Dan with it. “And now to illustrate the feminine role in extracting evil from loving relationships, I will now chase this fat man from the wedding scene, showing how domestic utensils can be used as instruments of exorcism. If he is smart, he will waddle as fast as he can, or risk being filleted by a very pissed-off aunt of the bride.” Dan began to run away and the crowd applauded.

  Nick’s uncle nodded his head with admiration.

  Faidra wiped a tear from her eye as she clapped wildly. “We have got to get her for Anderson’s next party.”

  Renee sat with a smile, more than a bit surprised at what she had just witnessed.

  When we could no longer see Dan’s rotund ass on the grounds, Anjoli turned back to the guests, lowered the knife, and dramatically proclaimed, “You may now kiss the bride.”

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  The wedding reception was comparatively dull. Kimmy and Nick had their first dance together as the sun set on our first open house. How would we ever top this event?

  I made my way to Renee, who was surrounded by our friends. Most of them were genuinely protective of Renee. Others just love being close to the drama. “I have to find Anjoli,” Renee said when she saw me approach her table. We walked across the lawn alone together. I couldn’t help ask if she was going to get back together with Dan. “Never,” she answered immediately.

  “So you weren’t charmed by him at all?” I asked.

  “Charmed? I was humiliated,” Renee said, stopping in her tracks. “Lucy, do you know what inspired that?” I shook my head. “His girlfriend probably dumped him the minute she found out Dan and I were through. You know what really charmed me?”

  “I know,” I said, smiling. “Confucius and J.Lo sure are cute together.”

  Renee laughed. “Seriously, Lucy. Your mother kicks ass. The way she chased Dan out of here with that knife! My God, I don’t think I’ll ever forget that.”

  “Unfortunately, neither will any of the guests,” I said.

  “You know, when I was watching your mother chase Dan away with the cake knife over her head, I really couldn’t decide who I was rooting for. I think I may be out of love with him.”

  “Yeah, well, hoping your husband will be stabbed is a good sign that your feelings may be waning, at the very least.”

  Renee stopped and smiled as if she were taking an emotional photograph of the moment. It was so unlike Renee, I found it jarring. “Thanks for everything.”

  “Sure,” I said. “Any time you need someone chased off with a cake knife, you know who to call.”

  “No, seriously, Lucy. You’ve been a good friend,” Renee said, placing her hand on my wrist.

  “Can I ask you a question?” I hated when people asked permission to ask a question, and here I was doing it myself. Renee nodded. “How did a guy like Dan ever wind up with a woman like you?”

  She smiled. “You mean the weight?”

  “The weight?!” I repeated. “The whole package, Renee! The mullet is a nightmare, and those teeth. I mean, I hate to sound superficial and focus only on his looks. He obviously hasn’t got the greatest personality if he cheats on his wife and bursts in to other people’s weddings begging forgiveness.”

  “He was cute once,” Renee said, somewhat wistfully.

  “When?” I couldn’t help asking.

  Renee snapped back to her good senses and answered, “Long ago, Lucy. Now he’s far from cute, isn’t he?” From the corner of my eye, I saw Randy talking to guests in front of his tent. When it got dark, he would whip out his blowtorch and give a glass-blowing demonstration for the guests. For now, he seemed to have no problem keeping the heat around him white hot. “He’s no Randy, that’s for sure,” Renee said, also noticing the sculptor. He winked at the two of us, though I may have been flattering myself. Something about the interaction clearly seemed to exclude me. “Let’s go see Anjoli,” Renee said as she began to walk again.

  My mother was surrounded by Kimmy’s Fab Five as well as Robin and Tom. “I’ve been following your career since Stanford, bro,” Tom said to Rafael’s boyfriend, Scott, who was now a running back for the New York Giants. “I can’t believe I’m standing here talkin’ to Scott Randall. Can I get a picture?” I wondered at what point Tom would figure out that Scott was gay, and I hoped I could manage to be present for the revelation. I knew there were several doctors in the house to resuscitate him when he passed out. Surely, Anjoli encouraging him to breathe deeply would not do the trick.

  When Renee and I made our way to the group, Rafael immediately teased, “Well, if it isn’t Little Miss Steal the Spotlight herself. To what do we owe this honor?”

  “I wanted to thank Anjoli for chasing off Dan like that,” Renee said.

  “How Page Six was that?!” squealed Alfie, clapping his hands. “You were so Norman Bates, love.”

  Anjoli reveled in the attention. “It was nothing,” she said, quickly adding more. “I couldn’t stand to watch him abusing you any longer, Renee. You are so much better than that. Why in the world would you ever stay married to a man with a mullet?”

  “He had other qualities,” she said.

  “Like that gorgeous figure?” Scott added.

  “Anyway, I absolutely hate the guy not only for what he did to you and Kimmy, but now he’s ruined my life as well, darling,” Anjoli said. All eyes were on her with inquisition. “Yes, after I met Renee, I couldn’t bring myself to date married men any longer. God knows I tried, but I kept seeing this image of Renee in tears and I couldn’t go through with
it. All I thought about is that each of these married men had a Renee at home who was probably heartbroken by her husband’s straying. Who would’ve guessed it, but I think I may have a conscience after all.”

  “What a sweet story,” Alfie said. “You two are like an Aesop’s fable of infidelity,” he said, tilting his head at Renee and Anjoli.

  “When I met Harvey this afternoon, the first thing I did was check for a wedding ring,” Anjoli said. “It was like I was possessed by someone good. It was horrid.”

  “So, is he married?” Robin asked.

  “Widowed,” Anjoli said.

  Kimmy’s hairdresser Felix chimed in. “I wouldn’t go there, honey. Who wants to compete with a dead lady?”

  Alfie disagreed. “I think widowers are the way to go. His wife didn’t divorce him. Plus there’s no chance of her coming back for a reconciliation.”

  Thinking of Aunt Rita, I smiled. I wouldn’t be too sure of that.

  Renee signaled the waiter to refill our glasses. After we were all replenished, Renee offered a toast. “To new beginnings for all of us,” she said.

  “To new beginnings,” we repeated.

  “I want to Samba,” said Rafael to Scott when he heard the music begin again.

  My eyes shot to Tom. It was all beginning to register with him now. “Don’t you want to ask one of the girls?” Tom suggested. Okay, maybe it wasn’t registering after all.

  Rafael began moving his body to the Latin rhythms. “Ew, girls, yucky,” he said in a playful overdone Spanish accent.

  “Honey,” Robin said to her husband, “Rafael is gay.” She sounded as if she were talking to a slow-witted child.

  “Yeah, but —” Tom started. No one knows how that sentence would have ended because it was at that moment that Tom realized that this meant Scott was also gay. “Right on,” he said. “Right on.” After a second, he repeated the sentiment another three times, finally finishing with, “Right the fuck on.”

  “Okay, stop saying that,” Robin whispered.

  * * *

  By nightfall, we were down to our last fifty guests, including unmarried Uncle Harvey and disturbingly chummy Renee and Randy. Jack and I went upstairs to tuck Adam into bed and finally had a chance to catch up. “It’s been so great, hasn’t it?” I asked Jack.

  “Better than I ever thought,” he agreed.

  “What about Faidra’s dog?!” I asked, giggling.

  “Nothing compared to your mother chasing Dan away at knifepoint.”

  “I know this is going to sound weird, but I wish Rita and Arnold were here to enjoy it,” I said.

  “Honey, if they had stayed, none of this would have happened. Remember what problems they caused?”

  “Only Rita,” I defended. “Arnold was quite handy around the house.”

  “I know you miss them,” Jack said, kissing my forehead.

  “Let’s get back to the party,” I suggested. “Randy’s going to blow some glass in a few minutes.”

  When we returned, Anjoli came rushing to me. “I have fabulous news, darling. Sit down!” I sat. “As you know, Nick’s Uncle Harvey and I have been getting along quite well this afternoon.” Good God, she’s going to marry him? “Would you believe that not only is he handsome and charming, he’s a casting director?”

  “Casting for what?” I asked, horrified at the thought of my mother starring in elder-porn.

  “Commercials, darling! And guess who he wants to cast?”

  “What kind of commercial does he want to cast you in?”

  “Not me, darling. I would never do commercial work!” she said. “Guess again!”

  “Um, Kimmy?” I asked.

  “Two strikes, darling. One more!”

  “Me?” I asked. I could be the new Weight Watchers girl.

  “J.Lo!” Anjoli said.

  “Your dog?”

  “Don’t sound so surprised, darling. Don’t I always tell you J.Lo is gorgeous? Harvey was very impressed by how poised J.Lo remained in the face of that filthy schnauzer attack. Plus, it’s not every dog who can walk down the aisle so gracefully. J.Lo has star quality. Anyway, darling, apparently Taco Bell is bringing back their ‘Yo Quiero Taco Bell’ campaign, and they need a mini Chihuahua for the taquito commercials. Naturally, we’ll have to find her the right agent. There are so few good roles for Latinas.” Mother waved her arms as if to show how very weary she had grown of the business. “Isn’t it my luck to find a boyfriend and a career for J.Lo all in one guy?” It was. I was happier that she’d sworn off married men, but J.Lo’s new taquitos commercial was what excited my mother at the moment, so I joined her celebration.

  “You have the most charmed life, Mother,” I said, resting my head on her shoulder as we watched flames shoot from Randy’s blowtorch.

  “Don’t I, darling?”

  * * *

  I didn’t have it so bad either. Jack and stayed up until 2 am giddily going over every detail of our first open house. Jack had sold every one of his paintings and declined several offers for the VW bug. All of the artists had sold all of their work and ended the evening with orders for more. We were floating with joy.

  “You know what, Luce?” Jack asked as we sat facing each other Indian style in bed.

  “What?”

  “You’re my dream wife,” he said.

  My eyes welled with tears of joy and fatigue. “I love you so much, Jack. I’m so glad we did this.” I leaned in to kiss him. A decidedly different tone had overtaken us. We had gone from kids at a slumber party to newlyweds in the honeymoon suite. We slipped down beneath the cool sheets and made love until we fell asleep exhausted.

  * * *

  Early the next morning the phone rang. At first I thought it had to be Anjoli or J.Lo calling, but realized they were staying in the guest room. Who would call so early on a Sunday morning?

  “Hello?” I said, purposefully groggy. I wanted to make sure this inconsiderate caller knew exactly how rude he was being.

  “Mamaleh! Have I got news for you!” Aunt Bernice exclaimed.

  “Is everything okay?” I asked.

  “Okay? Bettah than okay. This may sound silly to you, but it’s got me so excited I had to cawl and share the news.”

  “Tell me!” I encouraged.

  Jack opened his eyes and turned to me quizzically. He knit his brow to ask what was going on.

  “You know how you and Jack were such big shots about my needing to get my fawcet fixed?”

  “I wouldn’t say we were big shots,” I returned. “We just thought it would be nice if —”

  “You were big shots!” Bernice snapped. “Everyone carried on telling me I had to get the drippy fawcet fixed. ‘It won’t fix itself,’ everybody told me. Well, guess what?”

  “What?”

  “It’s awl bettah now,” Bernice said.

  “What do you mean it’s all better?”

  “You don’t understand what I said? Aren’t you supposed to be the big shot who makes a living using words? What’s so hard to understand about the words I’m using? It’s awl bettah. The sink. It’s fixed!”

  “Oh, that’s terrific,” I said, coaxing Jack to go back to sleep.

  “It’s bettah than terrific, Lucy. I can’t explain it. I woke up this morning with a pain in my leg, a migraine headache, and a case of PMS like I haven’t had since before menopause. But when I warked into the bathroom and saw that the fawcet had repaired itself, it made me so happy. And angry at the same time,” she said, laughing. “I know it sounds crazy,” she said, not realizing the day we had just had before. “I know yawr going to think I’m a kooky old lady, but something about that fawcet working properly again made me feel… how can I explain it? I don’t know why, but I don’t feel so alone anymore.”

  Read a sample chapter from Jennifer Coburn’s

  Tales from the Crib

  Chapter One

  I wasn’t entirely surprised when Jack said he wanted a divorce. Our marriage had been rocky for the last few years. On
another day, it might have been me asking to end the relationship. But on this day, Jack’s timing couldn’t have been worse. I knew we had serious problems, but this wasn’t the ideal moment to call it quits.

  We’d been to marriage counseling, taken several unsuccessful weekend getaways and even, embarrassed as I am to admit, enrolled in a Tantra class together. Each was more of a disaster than the other.

  Our therapist actually dumped us after six months. I never knew they could do that, but one day we showed up at Dr. Lee’s office and he wasn’t there. There was no note, no apologetic phone call, no explanation whatsoever. I called three times to try to reschedule, but Dr. Lee never returned any of my calls. I knew he wasn’t dead because a few months later I saw him at the movie theatre with two young boys I assumed were his sons. I know he saw me because he self-consciously snapped his head in the opposite direction and sped away. Jack didn’t seem at all bothered by Dr. Lee’s disappearing act. He said he was probably just busy and would get to us when he had time. Why do men think this modus operandi is acceptable in every context? I needed a real patient-therapist break-up. Who was Dr. Lee so busy with anyway? Other couples with more interesting problems than ours? Couples he thought had a fighting chance at marital success? Loath as I am to admit this, I once drove by Dr. Lee’s office and tried to peek in the window to see the other couple he was counseling. My near miss of a parked car scared me away from future stalking of my unfaithful ex-therapist.

  The weekend getaways were so full of promise, I still wonder how they went so wrong. Actually, that’s not true. I can plainly recall the points when our romantic weekends soured. Every trip has a few glitches, and depending on the state of the relationship, these snafus can either bring a couple together or drive them to each other’s throats. I know a couple who was kidnapped on their honeymoon in Mexico. Five years later, they still admiringly recount how cool the other was under pressure. “Carl is fluent in Spanish, so he was able to negotiate with the kidnappers,” Audrey sighs. “Oh no,” Carl always protests. “If it weren’t for your suggestion that they take your grandmother’s ring, we would have never gotten out of there alive.” They’ve recalled this nightmare a dozen times and still tell it as though it’s a great love story. I’m happy for them, really. It’s just a depressingly stark contrast to Jack and my lemon oil incident during our last romantic weekend together. I’ll get to that in a moment.