Moms Night Out

by Tricia Goyer

  Allyson turned back around slowly. For so long she had thought Sondra had everything together, but maybe that was just a show. Was it better to explode or better to hold everything in and keep everyone else at arm’s length? For the first time Allyson wondered if one was just as bad as the other.

  Izzy hurried around Allyson. She placed a hand on Allyson’s arms and pointed to the balls. “Hey, go.”

  “I’m going. I’m going.” Allyson stepped closer. Izzy walked around her and then sat in the chair that Allyson had just left. She settled in and then leaned forward.

  “Hey, can I ask you something? A little free advice?” Izzy asked, leaning close to Sondra.

  And then, as if someone had just pulled down the shades on a sunny day, the look on Sondra’s face transformed. The vulnerability was gone. She took off her Sondra hat and put on her pastor’s wife hat again.

  Allyson released the breath she’d been holding, and in that moment Sondra looked differently in her eyes. Sondra wanted to help everyone, but how often did people want to help her? She tried to be everyone’s friend, but who reached out to befriend her? Allyson had been so worried about her mommy meltdowns that she hadn’t even taken time to really listen to Sondra’s concerns.

  As she picked up the bowling ball and hurried to the lane, Allyson wondered if it was suffocating being the one who everyone confided in. Especially when hearing everyone else’s confessions, worries, and fears did nothing to help your own.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Marco / 8:00 PM

  Called 10 times, where R U?

  Marco / 8:00 PM IZZY . . . HELP!!!

  Sean / 8:00 PM Ally, don't freak out.

  Marco / 8:00 PM

  I'm freaking out-of-control

  Sean / 8:00 PM

  Got everything under control

  Marco / 8:00 PM Totally out of control!!

  Sean / 8:00 PM Just need to chat.

  Sean tried to ignore the sounds of video games behind him as he spoke into his cell phone. He’d tried to text Allyson, but she hadn’t returned the text messages. He knew Marco had tried to reach Izzy too.

  Sean had seen the frantic look in Marco’s eyes as he’d tried to get a hold of Izzy. “This is bad. This is bad,” Marco had repeated over and over.

  Finally Sean gave in and called Allyson. He knew she’d be upset—really upset—if he didn’t try to reach her. There was no answer to her cell phone, so he decided to leave a message. It made him happy that Allyson had taken his advice to unplug. She’d also obviously encouraged her friends to do the same since no one was responding.

  Sean pictured the women in his mind’s eye, sitting around a small cafe table. Talking, laughing, and tasting everything that everyone else had. When he usually went out to dinner he never wanted anyone to touch the food on his plate, but girls were different. They not only enjoyed their food, they wanted others to taste it too, and enjoy the moment with them. It’s as if the food tasted better if someone else oohed and aahed over their selection.

  After four rings, Ally’s voicemail came on, telling him to leave a message. After the beep he started in.

  “Hey Ally, it’s me, just wanted to let you know that everything’s going great here. Uh, we’re all good. We’re going to take a little trip to the hospital.” He tried to keep his voice calm, his tone light. And he thought he was doing a good job, but over his shoulder Sean could hear Kevin’s voice, and Kevin was anything but calm. After using up their tokens, and finishing up their games, Kevin and the kids had ventured over to the prize counter to redeem their prizes.

  “Are you kidding me?” Kevin’s voice rose above the noise of the arcade room. “You want 50 tickets for this plastic spider?” The dinging of a pinball machine filled the air, but Kevin’s voice was louder. “That’s extortion!”

  Sean continued leaving the message, keeping his voice even-keeled. “Beck got stuck in the Rocket to Mars game,” Sean said as unemotionally as if telling her they’d had chicken strips for dinner. “They didn’t have to use the Jaws of Life this time, thank goodness.”

  Sean looked over to Beck who was sitting next to him, chow-ing down on a piece of candy and holding an unwrapped sucker in his hand. Allyson never let Beck have a big sucker like that— choking hazard.

  Beck looked around, watching the colorful, flashing lights around him, taking in all the noise, and he didn’t seem to have a care in the world.

  “He’s free now,” Sean continued on the message, “but the fireman said he had to be checked out. A matter of policy. So I’m gonna take him. Which is convenient because I kinda dislocated my shoulder trying to get him out of there. Funny thing.” Sean smiled, knowing full well that Allyson wouldn’t think it was funny.

  The fireman approached as Sean talked, angling the stretcher so that it was more like a chair, and urging Sean to lean back into it. Sean turned around and lifted his leg over Beck, so that his legs straddled the young boy. Then, as gingerly as he could, Sean leaned into the stretcher. His youngest son allowed the EMT to move him, so that he sat between Sean’s legs. Beck’s small tennis shoes stuck up next to Sean’s larger ones on the stretcher. It would make a cute picture for him to post on Facebook . . . well sort of. Allyson wouldn’t be amused.

  Sean tried to adjust against the back rest, but pain shot through his shoulder. As long as it was immobilized in the sling it didn’t hurt too bad, but even the smallest movement caused searing pain to course through him. His heartbeat quickened, and his stomach lurched. For some reason the pizza he’d just gobbled down wasn’t sitting too well.

  As Sean allowed the EMTs to situate him on the stretcher, he could see Kevin still at the prize counter. Kevin leaned forward, eyeing the teen boy on the other side as if on a face-off.

  “We spent $50 in tokens and got 200 tickets. I want something of equal or greater value,” Kevin declared. “Like a—”

  “A puppy!” Bailey cut in, her blonde hair bouncing on her shoulders as she bobbed with excitement. Brandon stood next to her, nodding in agreement.

  Kevin pointed to Bailey excited. “Yes, like a live animal. I want something like a live animal. Like a turtle or a pet pig. I want a pet pig.”

  An EMT leaned close, looking into Beck’s eyes in a pin light, checking for a concussion and breaking off Sean’s view of Kevin and his other two kids.

  “Me and the Beckster are kind of cruising on our own,” Sean continued on his message to Allyson, “but they need the minivan to move the kids around. We know where you are. So we’re just going to slip into the parking lot, and we’re going to switch the cars around and take the minivan.” He took a breath. “Marco texted Izzy that, so she knows that—”

  A beep sounded, letting him know that he’d run out of time for his message, and then the call dropped. Sean looked down at ttle as the EMTs rolled him and Beck past the video games and toward the front doors.

  “I’m pretty sure she got most of that,” Sean mumbled to himself. Just as long as Allyson got the part that he was taking the van and leaving Marco’s car. That was the most important part of the message. Sean could hear Marco’s voice trying to help the ticket counter guy and Kevin come to some type of compromise.

  “What about the bouncy balls? Kids like bouncy balls!” Marco said.

  “Marco, that’s a choking hazard.” Kevin’s voice was far from patient. “Why am I the only one who knows this stuff?”

  ***

  The music at the bowling alley blared! Blared! Sondra resisted the urge to cover her ears. They’d been “so lucky” to be there when the bowling alley switched over from regular to cosmic bowling. This meant that they turned off the lights, turned up the music, and turned on the black lights. From Sondra’s experience, more noise and less light never led to anything good.

  Sondra watched as Izzy bobbed and carried a plate of nachos from the snack counter. That had to be Izzy’s third trip up there. She’d spent more time eating than bowling, not that Sondra minded. She liked being with her friends, but bowlin
g wasn’t her favorite. She wasn’t coordinated, and she was too self-conscious to let herself go and have wild fun.

  She envied Allyson in that way. Allyson didn’t hold anything in. Instead, she let it all out—all her frustration, all her worries, all her annoyance. Sometimes she let it out in inappropriate places, at inappropriate times, but surely that had to be better than holding all of it bottled up inside, right?

  That was the hardest thing about being a pastor’s wife, Sondra supposed. She knew everything, but couldn’t speak a word about anyone, lest she be considered a gossip. There were times she wanted to cry, but didn’t want to alarm anyone. There were times she was furious with Ray, but didn’t want anyone to look negatively upon their spiritual leader.

  There were even times she wished she could ask advice about how to deal with Zoe, but how could she when she was the one who was supposed to have all the answers? Her greatest fear was that she’d say the wrong thing or do the wrong thing and Zoe would walk a dark path, just as she had. But who could she even relate that fear to? No one.

  “It’s time for the Dance Cam,” the DJ called over the sound system. People around them cheered. Izzy continued toward them with a little hop to her step and a sway to her hips. And even though Sondra didn’t think it was possible, the music grew even louder.

  Sondra pushed all the thoughts and worry from her mind, and she covered one of her ears with her hand. “That is loud. Very loud.” She winced, wondering if her ear drums were going to burst and realizing how very old she’d gotten.

  “Okay, who wants to be on the Dance Cam!” the DJ (who was responsible for this loud ruckus) called out. He wore shades and an oversized jean jacket, retro 80s style. He had a Fu Manchu mustache and sat at a high podium with a microphone in one hand and a small video camera in the other. His body bobbed along to the beat, letting everything loose and encouraging all of them to do the same.

  Sondra watched on the small overhead monitors (which normally screamed out how low her score was) as the Dance Cam fixed on a beautiful African-American woman who was standing near the lanes. The spotlight moved to her, and the woman beamed. She lifted her arms and shook her hips in an adorable way. Oh, what would it be like to feel so unencumbered, so free, without worrying all the time what others thought?

  “Get on the Dance Cam and get some free bowling, just like Ashlee,” the DJ called to the crowd. The crowd cheered again. “Look at the lady out there, busting a move.”

  Ashlee threw back her head and laughed. And even though Sondra couldn’t hear the laughter over the sound of the music, the transformation on her face was clear.

  “Everyone give it up for Ashlee!” the DJ said as the spotlight dimmed.

  Izzy finished her sashay across the bowling alley, and sat down across from Sondra with a huge plate of nachos covering with everything they had in their kitchen . . . including pickles.

  Sondra eyed Izzy’s plate of nachos. “Okay, so how far along are you?” She’d been around enough women to know how a pregnant woman acted. Izzy had thought no one had seen her sneak that appetizer earlier, but Sondra had. And now this. That was the role of a pastor’s wife. To notice everything and to, most of the time, look the other direction. But it was hard to deny Izzy’s pregnancy when she was sitting here scarfing bowling alley nachos as if she was a beggar who’d just sat down to a banquet table.

  Izzy paused and glanced up at Sondra, as if pretending she hadn’t heard correctly. “What?”

  There was worry in Izzy’s gaze, and Sondra guessed that she’d just found out. This pregnancy was most likely a surprise, but Izzy would come around. Marco would freak, but Izzy would come around eventually.

  “Well, you’re—” Sondra pointed to the nachos. The normal overhead lights went out and black lights flashed off and then back on. A cheer rose up from the people surrounding them.

  “Pregnant? What, no.” Izzy shook her head. “Because if I was I would be freaking out that my husband would be whimpering in the fetal position like he did last time.”

  Izzy’s mouth kept moving, she kept talking, but Sondra couldn’t make out her words.

  Sondra leaned forward. “I have to be honest with you. I didn’t get any of that!”

  The music increased in volume, and she wondered how this had happened. She’d prepared herself for a nice, quiet dinner . . . and now this. She covered her ears again.

  Of course she couldn’t let Allyson know how disappointed she was. Poor dear. Allyson had tried her hardest. That was another role of a pastor’s wife. To applaud everyone’s honest efforts, despite the results. And to hide her own disappointment. Always hide her disappointment. Always hide.

  ***

  Allyson strode up to Sondra and Izzy with a little dance and a hop to her step. They were sitting across from each other at the small table. The two women leaned in close, trying to carry on a conversation. Seeing that, warmed Allyson’s heart—or maybe it was the heat from all the sweaty bowling people. Either way, she was warm . . . and she liked seeing her friends together.

  So this wasn’t the night she had planned. It wasn’t quiet. They didn’t have a plate of fine food in front of them, but they were together. Tomorrow they’d most likely be laughing about how things turned out. They’d make fun of each other: “Do we want to go to the park next Saturday or this Saturday?” And they’d brag about their bowling scores, no matter who won.

  Allyson laughed as she swayed her hips and kicked one of her bowling shoes up in the air behind her. “Six pins down, ladies. Beat that, Sondra!”

  Allyson danced to Izzy’s side with a bounce in her step, her shoulders pumping up and down to the music.

  Sondra rose and paced for the lane with a determined look on her face. She was going to have fun if it killed her.

  Allyson moved to sit and she noticed something—someone serving a table six lanes down. Bridget! Bridget had gotten a job here—at this bowling alley. Of all the luck!

  She whipped around, wondering if she should say something to Bridget. She still felt guilty for not being able to watch Phoenix. She was supposed to be someplace with her friends, getting her oxygen, and here she was, living it up, breathing hot air, and sort of flaunting her fun and friends in Bridget’s face.

  The music continued its loud beat and the quickening of Allyson’s heart followed.

  Izzy must have noticed Allyson’s panic. Izzy looked up at her. “What?”

  Allyson pressed her lips together in a tight, thin line. The muscles in her neck cinched down, and she slightly shook her head. “Moral dilemma.”

  Allyson couldn’t hear Bridget’s footsteps behind her, but she sensed her nearing presence. Her shoulders tightened up.

  “Ally!” Bridget called to her.

  Allyson turned, her black skirt swished around her legs as she did. She ran her fingers through her mess of ringlets, trying to act natural.

  Bridget approached with a tray of empty beer bottles and cans and placed them on their small table. “Hey, what are you guys doing here?”

  Allyson forced a smile. “Hey, Bridg.” She shrugged her shoulders. “You know, glow-in-the-dark bowling?” She sweeps her arms wide, exaggerating her words for Izzy’s sake. “Which is just SO fun!!” Allyson rolled her eyes up and grinned.

  Bridget didn’t look that impressed. “It’s actually not that fun.” There was a weariness about Bridget. Even though she was young it seemed she always had dark circles under her eyes, most likely from balancing all she did with work, school, and baby.

  Guilt pounded a stake back into Allyson’s heart. She bet Bridget would love to be out with friends, even if it was bowling, and even if it wasn’t fun. When was the last time she’d done something like that?

  ***

  Sondra sauntered up from bowling. She hadn’t wanted to be here, but she had to admit she was starting to have fun. This time she’d stuck her fingers into the bowling ball, and she swung it like she’d seen the others doing. When her hand fully extended, the ball had dropp
ed off her fingers and it rolled straight down the lane and hit six pins. She did a small hop and looked back, but Izzy and Allyson weren’t watching. Instead, Allyson was taking to a young woman. Sondra thought she recognized her. Yes, she believed that was Sean’s half-sister, Bridget. Sondra had seen the young woman only a few times over the years, but she had said many prayers for her. Ally had been heartbroken so many times when Bridget had made one bad choice after another. They couldn’t fix the messes that Bridget found herself in, but they could pray, and they had done that often.

  Sondra’s ball popped back up, and she hurried back to tell the others to watch. “Did you see that?” she called to the others. Then she saw it. Bridget had placed one of the trays she’d been using to clean the tables on THEIR table, and that tray was filled with beer bottles and cans. Sondra didn’t take the time to look over her shoulder to see if Mattie Mae Lloyd had already spotted the bottles. Instead she rushed forward.

  “Oh, no, no, no . . .” Sondra grabbed four beer bottles with one hand and two beer cans with the other. They clinked together, and she walked toward the trash can, as if using her body to shield what was in her hands. “Oh, we can’t have this. Oh, this doesn’t look good . . .”

  “Okay, anyone else who wants to be on the dance floor?!” The DJ shouted over the microphone. Loud, too loud.

  “Oppa Gangnam Style!” the music blared. She hurried, looking for the trash can, and then . . . like a light beaming down from heaven, the spotlight landed on her.

  Sondra spun around. She clutched the bottles and the cans to the front of her, and she shifted from side to side trying to figure out which way to go to escape the lights.

  A cheer rose from the crowd and then she looked up. There she was . . . on all the monitors . . . with beer bottles in her hands!

  “Dance! Dance! Dance!” The people call out.

  Dancing was the last thing on her mind. She froze. Her knees grew weak. Her head grew light and she told herself to breathe. Waves of panic grew higher and closer within, and no matter how much she told herself to move—to escape the light—nothing happened.