Tree Climbing For Beginners

by Joyia Marie

  At least that’s what she thought his expression was. Who could be sure under that hair? What was up with the bangs from hell? Harold had bragged on what a good mother, Helen was but she was having her doubts. Her kids acted and looked like they were raised by wolves.

  Jillian jumped back into her car and wished she had time to go home and check out her find. She sighed as she dismissed the thought. She had enough time to get gas and drive through Starbucks for a much-needed cup of coffee before going to the game.

  She shuddered as she thought about a field full screaming people and that was just the parents. She girded her loins and drove off. She had to maintain the status quo until she could get Helen back home. She admitted it might be trickier than she thought.

  She was beginning to think Helen might have just gotten out while the getting was good. She knew if the twins were hers, she might have done the same thing. She shook off the thought, Helen had them so she should raise them, that’s all there was to that, Jillian thought firmly.

  She sighed as she looked around for a gas station. Her only hope besides guilt was what might be on that jump drive. Jillian smiled grimly, that was a thin hope. What could a hausfrau like Helen have to hide?

  Chapter Thirty-Five: Helen

  “Time to get up, witch,” Raphael rumbled from beside the bed.

  I snapped awake and for the second time this week, I was confused as to where I was. I wasn’t at Casa Asshole, I wasn’t at the loft, and I didn’t think I was at the motel. The curtains shifted and a shaft of light pierced my eyeballs and went straight into my brain. I felt like the witch Raphael called me, one that was being burned at the stake. I slammed my eyes shut and tried to figure it out.

  Where I was, wasn’t as worrying as who I was with. There was the warmth of another body lying next to me and I was afraid to find out who that might be. How much had I had to drink and why hadn’t Raphael stopped me?

  I smelled coffee close by and stuck out a hand like a beggar for alms. My eyes popped open as something cold hit my palms instead of the warmth I was hoping for. I eyed the bottle of water in my hand and the two aspirin waiting in Raphael’s wide palm.

  “You know the routine,” he rumbled implacably. I nodded dumbly, then sat up on the side of the bed. When the bed stopped spinning, I guzzled the water and swallowed the pills. My stomach gave a warning grumble before settling down again.

  Raphael slid the cup of coffee into my hands when I finished the first part of the routine and walked out of the room. I hazarded a glance and looked back. I sighed with relief when I saw Sonya’s black hair covering the pillow next to me.

  She hadn’t even stirred and she was snoring to beat the band. If you tried to tell her she snored, you might get cut so I’ve learned not to mention it. Who was I to complain anyway? I was in her bed in her bedroom.

  Other than Raphael, the only other person I would rather wake up with is Sonya. I knew I was a good girl, either way, and believe me, I wondered. Last night or this morning rather had some holes in it and I was hoping I hadn’t filled those holes with naughtiness. If I was going to do that, then I might as well have done Aiden. I sighed at the thought. Sonya could not compare.

  Sonya was straight as a string and I had never traveled down that wormhole during my wild and crazy party days. Not that I have a problem with that, but just not a road I’ve ever traveled. If I had, I would want to be stone cold sober for the trip.

  I gulped down the coffee and almost groaned as I reached the bottom of the cup. I needed more, but I wasn’t ambulatory enough to get more. I felt tears well up in my eyes at my quandary.

  Oh, this is why I don’t do this anymore, I recalled. Hangovers make me weepy. I blinked back the tears and tried to get myself moving. I managed to get to my feet. Sonya’s delightfully decorated bedroom did a not-so delightful spin. I grabbed the post of her four-poster bed before I ended up on the floor.

  Raphael walked back into the room with another cup of coffee that he exchanged for the dead soldier in my hand. I hoped Sonya wouldn’t lose it with him dirtying up her cups like this. Sonya was OCD to an extent that she made Mrs. Gunderson look slovenly.

  “Come on, sunshine, we’re burning daylight,” Raphael said as he pried the arm wrapped around the bedpost loose. I teetered before he took its place and walked me into the bathroom.

  “You got it from here?” he asked, his face flushed. Raphael could be such a girl when it came to girly bits. He wasn’t interested, in any way, shape, or form. The only parts of a woman that interested him were the hair on her head and the money in her purse.

  He walked out and shut the door. I sat on the toilet and recycled my liquor into the Trinity River. I got up to wash my hands and took my first look at my face. “Here’s another reason I don’t do this anymore,’ I thought. ‘To quote Bruce Willis, I’m getting too old for this shit.’

  Shit is exactly what I looked like. My skin had a very unattractive greenish cast. My eyes were bloodshot and moist, kind of like a basset hound. My hair was in such disarray that it left ‘sexily-tousled’ about three stops back. It would look just right if I had just invented something along with a shout of ‘eureka’. Right at that moment, I did not feel pretty.

  Raphael knocked and asked, “Safe to come in?” I nodded, then realized that really wasn’t translating through the closed door. I cleared my throat and husked, “yeah.”

  Raphael walked in and dropped the bag I had packed ‘just in case’ on the floor. He hip checked me to the side and plugged the sink. He turned on the water, then dumped the contents of the bowl under his arm into the filling sink.

  My eyes widened in denial as Raphael looked at me with expectation after he turned off the water when the sink was full. I shook my head and stepped away or as much away as I could in Sonya’s tiny bathroom. I held up my coffee in defense. “I’m fine, I’m awake, really,” I pled with the resolute Marine.

  “Honey, and I say this with love, and because you must not be seeing clearly because you’re still half drunk. The bags under your eyes have bags and your eyes are so bloodshot they could substitute in a stop light. Worst of all, you are green and you know that’s not your color. You know this is the only way,” Raphael said patiently.

  He gave the water in the sink an inviting swish with one hand, but I kept my eye on the other hand. Raphael was capable of grabbing my hair and dunking me if he got a clear shot. I wasn’t giving him that shot.

  “You first,” I challenged after another bracing sip of coffee. I was hoping the caffeine would kick in and all this would be a moot point soon. I so didn’t want to do this.

  Raphael gave me a pitying look and stated the obvious, “I don’t need it.”

  He didn’t. He looked disgustingly daisy fresh. Then again, he did a Baucus revel every weekend and his system was probably used to it. Mine was not. Going from maybe a glass of wine with dinner to maybe a quart of tequila in an evening is not the way to ease back into the party scene.

  I can’t believe I used to do this every weekend before I met Harold. Maybe that’s why I latched onto Harold so quickly, a subconscious ploy to save myself from cirrhosis of the liver. That sounded like as good a reason as any for that insanity.

  “Wait, why are we up anyway?” I said, as my brain slowly tried to kick in.

  I sighed at the question and realized any hope I had of getting out of that bathroom un-dunked had just skipped away. Not only did last night have holes in it, but now the morning has done as well. I racked my brain as Raphael just stared at me patiently.

  “It’s Saturday, sweetie,” he said slowly, taking pity on me when smoke started coming out of my ears as I tried to jump start my brain.

  “The kids’ soccer game,” he said when I was obvious I was still not getting it.

  Suddenly my brain kicked in with a mighty roar and I looked around for a clock. My watch was not on my arm and I needed to know the time immediately. “You’ve got time, Helen, if you get your ass in gear right now,” Raphael s
aid shoving his watch into my face. I cursed when I saw he was right.

  Okay, time to put on your big girl panties I told myself firmly as I gave the filled sink a cautious look. Raphael was right. This was the only way. Not only couldn’t I go to my kids game looking like death warmed over for my kids’ sake, Harold would be there, probably with the lovely and nubile Jillian. I had to look my best and right then I didn’t.

  I gave Raphael a nod, and gulped down the rest of my coffee. I took a deep breath and plunged my face into the sink filled with water and ice cubes. I allowed myself to scream under the water, but I made myself stay down there as long as I could.

  I guess Raphael thought I had a little more in me because when I went to raise up, he put his meaty hand on the back of my head holding me there. He held me down until I thought maybe he had given up on me, and decided to drown my silly self.

  I was slapping the sink surround like a defeated fighter trying to tap out of a fight on WWF before he finally released me. I gave him a murderous look, but he ignored me and turned me toward the shower. If I had more time and less sense, I would have jumped him, but I didn’t so I didn’t. When I stepped into the shower, he stepped out and closed the door.

  I stripped and tossed my clothes over the curtain before I turned on the water to wash quickly. Sonya likes vanilla body products, so soon I stepped out of the shower smelling like a freshly baked sugar cookie. I’m sure I had my toiletries packed in my bag, but I didn’t have time to look for them.

  I risked another look in the mirror and cursed because Raphael was right, as usual. The ice bath had changed my greenish, ‘How the Grinch that stole Christmas’ cast to something resembling human again. My eyes were clear and even the bags under them were reduced. I wasn’t one hundred percent back to normal, but I looked one hundred percent better. Makeup would take care of the rest.

  By the time I dried and dressed, Raphael was back with another cup of coffee in a travel mug. I grabbed the mug after I tossed my dirty stuff in my bag and I was ready to go. I could do makeup in the car since Raphael was driving. We had ridden together from Fort Worth to Dallas.

  Sonya was still sleeping when we exited the apartment, but neither of us was brave enough to wake her just to say goodbye. Wake her if the apartment was on fire, or some other emergency, sure. Simple courtesy, not so much. Sonya takes her sleep seriously and woe betides anyone who disturbs it for anything less than death or destruction.

  We hopped into Raphael’s SUV and soon were zipping down the highway to Fort Worth. The windows were open to dry my hair and I was frantically applying makeup between fluttering curls. I don’t wear much so soon I was sitting back and sliding on my sunglasses.

  “Who were you on the phone with last night?” Raphael asked, his eyes pinned to the freeway. There wasn’t much traffic, but Raphael still watched for openings like a New York cab driver.

  “What are you talking about?” I asked, spitting out an errant curl. I rolled my window back up, my hair didn’t take much to dry, and two open windows at 70 miles an hour had done the job in 15 minutes. I pulled out my cell phone and saw a missed call from Harold this morning and a call from a strange number last night.

  “I’m not sure,” I said slowly, frowning at the phone. One of the holes last night had swallowed a whole phone call. Who had I talked to?

  The time showed it would have been when we were in the Village, the first stop on our club crawl. I should have been pretty sober, but then again we had shared a pitcher of margaritas at Tia’s, a favorite Mexican restaurant, at dinner. I shook my head. I had no alcohol tolerance at all anymore.

  Not that I missed it. I had let Sonya and Raphael think Harold and the twins were the reason I had stuck so close to home and hearth. The truth was even before I had met Harold, the club scene had gotten old. The gay bars are a blast, but after a while if you’ve seen one 6-foot tall drag queen impersonating Marylyn Monroe, you’ve seen them all.

  “I thought I heard you say the name Aiden but don’t hold me to that. The club was jumping last night,” Raphael said with a fond smile. Raphael loves the clubs because he loves to dance and he loves the whole crazy atmosphere. He doesn’t go to find a man, at least not while Sonya or me are with him, but he enjoys the pageantry of it all.

  “Aiden,” I whispered, horrified. Surely, I wasn’t drunk dialing, I hoped. Wait a minute, I don’t have Aiden’s phone number so if it was him he must have called me. Why would he be calling me on a Friday night? Snatches of a conversation floated through, but I don’t know if that was recalled or wishful thinking.

  “Don’t sweat it,” Raphael said, leaning my seat back to the controls on his side. “Lay back and catch a catnap while I drive so you’ll feel a bit more human by the time we get there.”

  “My car,” I mumbled, my eyes already sliding shut. I had only gotten about five hours sleep before Raphael’s wake up call so a nap sounded like a plan.

  “I’ll drop you and the twins back at the motel after the game,” he murmured soothingly.

  I was glad he was going to the game with me. He didn’t make many games because of his salon, but I was glad he would be at this one. My first post-break up the game and I really didn’t want to walk in there alone, especially when Harold was almost guaranteed to be with Jillian.

  Chapter Thirty-Six: Helen

  It seemed like my eyes had barely closed before Raphael was waking me up again. I so needed a night in to get over my night out. I was rethinking taking the kids, but I knew I would find the energy for my babies. I had missed them this week. This was the longest I had ever gone without seeing them.

  I fluffed my hair, lifted my sunglasses long enough to sweep under my eyes with another coat of concealer, and called it good. I was here for my kids, not to win a beauty contest. Anyway, no matter how you sliced it, 20-whatever Jillian was would win over the 39 I would proudly boast of. I think women who lie about their age are stupid or maybe I’m stupid because I would never keep such a lie straight.

  I have no problem with my age. I wouldn’t have it printed up on a T-shirt but I will freely tell anyone with the balls to ask. If they do ask, I don’t do that stupid guessing game either. I hate that. If I thought I could guess I wouldn’t have asked, I want to tell these brainiacs.

  I looked at Raphael for final approval and he nodded, so I hopped out. He and I met at the front of his SUV and walked over to the field. I saw Harold and Jillian and the look on his face was worth every penny I spent at the salon even though this hadn’t been the purpose of my spa day.

  My spa day was for me, but the look on his face was a lovely bonus. He stared at me as if he saw a ghost and I guess in a way he was. He was seeing the ghost of Helen past. I waved my fingers and giggled when Jillian elbowed him to break his trance.

  Raphael and I picked a spot on the bleachers well away from Harold and Jillian. Harold looked like he wanted to come over, but Jillian kept holding him back. Yep, I thought vengefully, Jillian is getting a powerful life lesson. Getting a man is the easy part, keeping them is the tricky bit.

  I don’t mean to brag on myself, but I think if I REALLY wanted to I could get Harold back. He and I have a history, a house, and kids together. I’m sure his parents are riding him about this and urging reconciliation and he’s never stood up to parental pressure before. I’m sure if they had kicked up enough of a fuss he and I never would have married in the first place.

  Then there are the kids. I’m sure Tonya is making his life and Jillian’s life a living hell by now. He’d come back just to get it all to stop and get his peaceful life back.

  Speaking of his parents, they came walking up the bleachers not far from Raphael and me. They nodded but didn’t close the distance, which I appreciated. There was nothing they could say that I wanted to hear. They needed to talk to their idiot son, not that that would do much good as the SSHelen has left the pier.

  Like I said, I could get Harold back, but bottom line I don’t want him. If he valued me so little as to
get Malibu Barbie to take my place, then as Grandma Gert used to say ‘may the Lord take a liking to him’. I’m not exactly sure what that means, but I’m sure it’s appropriate in this situation.

  The game started and finished before, you could say ‘boo’. One of the things I like about soccer games are one hour, it’s an hour and 15 minutes if you include half time. The Rockets, the twins’ team won, which was nice. They usually didn’t. Not a lot of future professional soccer players on the Rockets.

  The parents poured out onto the field to make our tunnel. This is where the parents make two lines, then touch hands overhead, making an ‘atta boy’ or ‘atta girl’ tunnel of love. Somehow, Jillian and I ended up opposite each other. She and I looked at each other the entire time. I was wearing my sunglasses so my ‘bitch, you stole my man’ glare was probably less than effective.

  She was looking at me as if some plan she had worked out in her bleached blond head was being adjusted toward this new version of me. I sincerely hoped she didn’t think the new look was an attempt to get Harold back. She was welcome to him at this point. As long as she understood, the kids were part of the package.

  We dropped hands as soon as the last kid ran through the line. Raphael was there with his hand sanitizer and I took the icy gel with pleasure. The last thing I needed was to catch ‘skank’ from touching hands with Jillian. Jillian sniffed and turned her head, but I could tell it irritated her.

  My hands were barely dry when the twins sauntered up with their snacks in hand. I made a note to let Harold know it was our turn to bring them next week. I don’t think that was on the schedule. The Rockets would go up like their namesakes without their post game snack.

  Harold walked over while the twins and I looked at each other. They were at that age where hugging their mother in public was uncool, but I could tell they wanted to. But not as much as I wanted to. I could wait until we were in private then I might break one of their ribs. I missed my kids so much.