Moms Night Out

by Tricia Goyer

  Ever since she’d married church-boy Ray, she’d done her best to live on the straight and narrow path. And when he graduated from seminary and then became pastor, staying above board was even more important. To have anyone question her reputation was to mar his . . . and she couldn’t do that to her husband. He was too good of a man for that.

  From the widening of the hostess’s eyes it was clear the dispatcher had agreed to send a squad car.

  “Chez Magique.” The hostess’ voice still sounded smooth, controlled as she spoke into the phone. “The reason? There is a crazy lady in our restaurant, and she just brought her crazy baby sister.”

  Sondra dug around in her purse, pretending she was looking for something. It didn’t matter what she was looking for, just as long as her face wasn’t seen.

  “A crazy baby sister, or a mini her,” the hostess continued. “There are two crazy ladies now. One crazy lady, now two crazy ladies. Chez Magique,” she repeated.

  Sondra looked to Izzy, and Izzy stared her down. Izzy lifted her eyebrows as if expecting Sondra to have an answer, a plan.

  Why did everyone always come to her? Look to her? Sondra shrunk down farther into the cushioned seat. She didn’t know how to get out of this. Ally had the keys to the van. And her cell phone was in the van too. She needed to fix that. She needed to text Ray and let him know what was happening. He needed to know in case word got back to him about what his wife had been up too . . . and maybe he’d have advice.

  Izzy continued to stare, and Sondra shrugged. She had nothing. No answer. No solution. No way to get help, and it was the feeling she hated most. After all, others counted on her to do the right thing—to be the good example.

  ***

  Marco ran with his arm extended down the street in front of the restaurant. “Mama, Mama!” He called to the bird, but he saw nothing. He heard nothing. The night was quiet. There wasn’t even one chirp. He didn’t know what he expected. Was Kevin right? Had he indeed seen this on Animal Planet? Would Mama come down and sit on his arm if he called?

  Marco tried to think back. They’d lost the bird a few times in the house. The bird wasn’t like a dog. It didn’t come to them when it was called. Instead, when Mama got free, it liked to sit in the big house plant that Izzy had in the foyer by the front door. It would sit there, perched, as quiet as a mouse while the kids—and sometimes Izzy—ran wild trying to find it.

  That gave Marco an idea. He rushed over to the bushes just outside the front doors of Chez Magique. He looked around, starting at the bottom, but he didn’t see anything. Kevin rushed ahead, looking into another tree. Kevin paused, and his eyes grew wide. He looked to Marco, pointed to the tree, and then he flapped his arms.

  Marco rushed forward. “Do you see her? Do you see my bird?”

  “Shhh . . .” Kevin frowned, and then he went through his hand motions again. He flapped his wings—uh arms—and then pointed to the tree.

  Marco looked up just in time to see the bird lift from the tree limb and head their direction. He jutted out his arm, balling his fist, preparing a place for it to land. Instead, the bird dive-bombed Kevin.

  The bird looked like something from a horror movie, swooping down, poking Kevin’s head and then flying up again.

  Kevin jumped and screamed like a girl. He flapped his arms and swatted his head and then turned in a circle. He squealed and jumped up and then down, as if a flock attacked him—not just one parakeet.

  Marco took a step back, trying to see where it went. His heart pounded. If he didn’t get that bird he’d never hear the end of it. He could picture it now. The boys up all night crying and sobbing and asking for Mama. Izzy would be crying too. She always did when she didn’t get enough sleep, which had been often lately. He didn’t know if he could take that—handle that.

  The bird dive-bombed again.

  Kevin swatted at it again, spinning in circles. “Marco, Marco!”

  Marco grabbed the front of Kevin’s shirt, “Where’s my bird? Where’s my bird?”

  Kevin stopped his motion. His hair was flopped all over his head. He was staring down at Marco’s feet, panting heavily.

  “Where’s my bird?” Marco asked again. Then Marco followed Kevin’s gaze down to the ground.

  “You stepped on it.” Kevin’s voice was a monotone.

  Marco wanted to drop to his knees in horror and disbelief, but he didn’t want to get bird parts on his pants.

  “I’m dead.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Hot, seething anger pumped through Bridget’s veins. She should have expected this. Should have known this would happen. She’d put her trust in Joey too many times, only to have him completely fail her. She’d trusted that he’d love her when he said he did. She trusted that he’d be by her side when she decided to have the baby. He told her he’d get a job and then find an apartment for them. That they’d be a happy family. None of it had happened. None of it.

  Instead, he’d shacked up for a while with someone else— Caprice. Thankfully, that had been short-lived. But he still continued to make excuses why he hadn’t come around after Phoenix’s birth. That’s why she’d been so surprised when she’d called and he’d agreed to help her. She’d thought he’d changed . . . obviously not!

  Bridget trampled into the restaurant area, weaving around small tables, and looking for Joey. She finally found him at a table near the back. He was dressed in a shirt and tie. Of all things! And with him was a blonde. Beautiful wasn’t a good enough description. She was gorgeous, well-dressed, and put together. Both jealousy and fury fought for a rightful place within Bridget.

  Unable to tame her emotions, Bridget stormed up to the table. The click of heels on the tile floor told her that Ally was right behind her. She knew the other women wouldn’t follow. They didn’t know her. They didn’t care.

  She reached the table and paused, jutting out her chin. “JOEY!” Bridget stretched forward, leaning on the chair for emphasis.

  Joey jumped to his feet, startled, as if he’d just seen a ghost. “Bridget?!?”

  Then he looked past her to Ally, who’d sidled up beside her. “Seriously?” he asked Allyson.

  Bridget fumed even more. As if he had any right to accuse her sister-in-law.

  “Where’s Phoenix?” her voice bellowed, and her heartbeat pounded in her temples. It took all her restraint not to pound him. “I leave Phoenix with you for one night and—” She gripped the back of chair tighter.

  Joey tried to appear calm. “He’s . . . fine. Someone is watching him.”

  She hated when Joey did that. The sky would be falling, and Joey always tried to play it cool. Bridget glanced down at the table and noticed they weren’t eating dinner, but dessert. Joey had often taken her out for dessert. She at first thought it was romantic until she realized he was just being cheap and didn’t want to pay for a whole meal.

  “So you can take some tramp for chocolate cake?” Bridget’s voice rose. “Oh that’s great.” She reached over and shook the woman’s hand. The woman’s skin was perfect. Her nails were manicured. The woman cast Bridget a sympathetic look, which just made her madder. “Hi, I’m Bridget.”

  Bridget turned back to Joey. “So, where is he?”

  “This is not what it looks like,” Joey told the blonde.

  “So who has him?” Bridget urged, louder.

  Joey pursed his lips together. He looked down at the table. Worry filled his face. His chin slightly trembled, and he refused to answer.

  Finally a word escaped his lips. “Bones.” He winced and looked up at her.

  She didn’t know what to do. What to say. He was joking.

  She laughed and smiled. She waited for Joey to crack a smile too. Surely this had to be a joke.

  But Joey didn’t smile. He didn’t change his worried expression. Horror splashed over her as if someone had just poured a glass of ice water over her head.

  “Bones?” she gasped. “Bones from the tattoo parlor, Bones?

  Joey shrugged
as if his explanation made complete sense. “Yeah, yeah. He said he could hang there until I can pick him up.”

  Bridget’s face scrunched up. She tilted her head, sure she misunderstood. She frowned at him. “He’s at the tattoo parlor?”

  Joey shook his head as if she was the one who’d lost her mind. “He’s not getting a tattoo!”

  Joey looked again to his date. His look was worried, as if he was concerned about what she thought. Bridget fumed. He cared more about impressing the date than about their son— their SON.

  She stomped her foot and lifted her face to the ceiling. “You’ve got to be out of your ever-living mind!” The words burst from her lips.

  Joey reached out, and his hand barely touched her arm. “Bridg, you have to stop overreacting.”

  She gasped, pulled her arm away, and looked back at him. “I am not overreacting!”

  Bridget lunged for Joey. She pushed her pointed finger into his chest. “I’m gonna kill you, kill you!” Bridget didn’t care about the other diners. She didn’t care if Joey was embarrassed. All she cared about was Phoenix. Was he worried, alone, scared without her? The anger pulsing within was hot and thick, but worry ached deep down in her gut.

  Allyson’s hand wrapped around her wrist, pulling, tugging, trying to pull her back. Bridget knew she could stay there and continued to unleash her fury. She could give him a few more choice words. She could pummel him with her fists, but what good would it do? Joey would always be worthless Joey. The most important thing for her to do was to find Phoenix.

  Bridget submitted to Allyson’s tugging.

  Allyson guided her along through the tables and the diners. Everyone in the restaurant was silent. Every eye was on her. Some diners had paused with their forks halfway to their lips, but all she could think about was Phoenix. Her baby.

  “Yup, yup. Okay,” Allyson mumbled under her breath as she pulled Bridget along.

  Bridget spun around one more time to face him.

  Joey’s eyes were wide, and she pointed at him, hating him for what he did . . . and what he’d made her become—this crazy woman. She hated him for leaving Phoenix like that. “I’m going to kill you . . . in your sleep!”

  “Okay, let’s go.” Allyson’s voice was way too soft, way too calm. Of course it wasn’t Ally’s baby who was missing. No one loved her son as she did. No one.

  She turned back around and moved to the front door of the restaurant.

  And then, to make things even worse, she heard Joey behind her, trying to shrug off his actions. “It’s—it’s just nothing,” he said to his date.

  Steam blew out of her ears.

  Yeah, to him it may be nothing. But to Bridget, Phoenix—her son—was everything.

  Everything.

  Bridget burst out the front door, fighting hot tears. Fresh, cool air hit her face.

  Allyson and the others followed her out. She paused on the sidewalk right outside of the restaurant. There was a gathering of people waiting for tables, but otherwise the night air was quiet. The road was empty. The sky was large, and suddenly she felt so out of place . . . and so small. So helpless.

  Bridget paused her steps. The other women looked at each other, trying to figure out what to say. Not knowing what to do.

  She didn’t know what to do either, well, not exactly. She knew she had to get her baby. A tattoo parlor? Really?! But how could she get there? It was all the way across town.

  Her thoughts jumbled all together. Had Phoenix eaten? Was he crying? She was sure Bones meant well, but when is the last time he’d cared for a baby?

  “How am I supposed to get him?” She threw up her hands and then dropped them. Allyson stopped right in front of her.

  Inside her stomach quivered as if it was made of Jell-O. “I took the bus to get here. If I leave work I’ll be fired. On my first night. On my first night. I need this job, Ally!” Bridget wiped her tears. She had rent to pay and she was late on her phone bill. She needed a new phone too. The crappy one she had kept cutting out and dropping calls. Then there were diapers—so expensive.

  Bridget looked to Ally, and all she got was a blank stare. She needed help, but what had Sean said, that Allyson needed her oxygen? Suddenly Bridget felt so very alone in this with no place to turn.

  What am I going to do now?

  ***

  Allyson’s heart pounded even after they’d left the restaurant. Bridget’s voice had echoed all over the room, and every table had gone silent as they quieted to hear her words. Bridget had been angry. Fuming. Joey deserved it though. Allyson had to admit she’d do the same if she’d been in Bridget’s place.

  She couldn’t imagine her kids being treated in such a way . . . by their father. Yes, Sean made unwise decisions at times—or at least decisions that she thought were unwise (i.e., violent video games), but he’d never pawn them off onto someone who wasn’t responsible. He’d never taken them to a tattoo parlor . . . left them there.

  Allyson stood in front of the swanky restaurant and knew what she had to do. “I have the van.” She spread arms wide, feeling like superwoman. They were here for a reason. It was meant for her to see Joey for a reason. They’d run into Bridget . . . for a reason.

  She clapped her hands together. “We’ll run. We’ll pick him up. We can fix this and get back on schedule.” She tried to make her tone light. She looked to Izzy and Sondra. “Best night ever will only be on pause for thirty minutes.”

  Izzy’s eyes grew wide behind her glasses. “And then do what with a baby?”

  “I haven’t gotten that far yet!” She moved toward the parking spot with quicken steps. “Let’s get the van!”

  Allyson looked under the streetlight, and she stopped dead in her steps. Her—her van was gone. A small, black sports car was parked right where she’d left her van. It was gone!

  “Where’s the van? I parked it right there.” She turned back to her friends. “Remember, I told you that it was right under the street lamp?” She pointed. Her jaw dropped and goose bumps rose on her arm. Goose bumps of fear.

  “It only takes a couple of seconds to steal a car.” Izzy’s eyes looked even larger behind her glasses. “Always lock everything up. That’s what Marco says.”

  Bridget covered her face with her hands, and Allyson knew she wasn’t worried about the car. She was worried about Phoenix and how to get to him.

  Allyson looked up and down the aisle of parked cars. There wasn’t a minivan for as far as she could see. “I did. Am I crazy?” Ally grabbed her hair. She could not believe this was happening. How much could happen in one night? How much?

  There were a group of people standing around the entrance to the restaurant, most likely waiting for a precious table. The thief had some nerve to steal a van under a streetlight, right in the full view of others. Who would do that?

  “So what do I do? Do I report it to the police?” Allyson looked to Sondra, seeking an answer.

  Sondra covered her mouth with her hand, as if in shock. She looked into her purse and then back up to Ally again. “With what phones?”

  Allyson closed her eyes remembering. The phones, they’d put them all in the console. Whoever had stolen the van had their phones too!

  She bent over, hands on knees. “Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no

  Bridget stared at them in disbelief. “You don’t have phones?”

  Izzy clenched her teeth and looked around. “Okay, I’m freak-ing out now.

  Bridget waved her hand toward the bowling alley. “My phone’s back at work. We can just use mine.”

  “Okay!” Allyson took two steps in the direction of the bowling alley, and then she paused. She spun around, motioning to Sondra and Izzy. Then she pointed to the people standing by the Chez Magique entrance. “Can you ask them and see if they saw anything?”

  They turned and hurried back to the front of the restaurant. Bridget ran back to get her things, Allyson asked if she could use the phone behind the counter. Next to her, the kitchen smelled of French fries, ha
mburgers, and artificial cheese. Allyson’s stomach growled and she told herself that after they got Phoenix that she’d get something to eat. Something not made by a sixteen-year-old whose only culinary skills included putting a basket into a deep fryer.

  She picked up the phone and dialed. Her small purse was tucked under one arm, and her hand rested on the back of her neck. Her neck was sore, from tension for sure. How could this . . . this happen? After everything!

  A dispatcher answered, and she explained about her stolen van and the location she’d last seen it.

  “Describe it?” Allyson wrinkled up her nose. “There were a bunch of bumper stickers on the back . . .”

  The DJ still danced, the music still blared, the bowling balls still crashed, and the pins still tumbled. Allyson pressed the corded phone receiver into her ear as she tried to describe her van to the operator on the other end of the line.

  “There’s a fish bumper sticker, but it’s pretty faded.” She winced slightly and let her eyes flutter closed. “Eat organic.”

  Then, remembering the other stickers, she lowered her voice and turned her head away, making sure none of the other customers could hear. Heat rose to her cheeks. “My homeschooler is smarter than your honor student.”

  She shook her head and waved her hand. “And a bunch of others that I don’t really want to talk about, but you get the idea!”

  Allyson listened as the dispatcher told her they were going to ask their officers to keep an eye out for her van.

  From behind her she could hear Bridget’s voice. “It’s an emergency! It’s personal!” Bridget said to the guy working in the kitchen. Bridget approached and pulled on a flannel shirt over her bowling shirt. She paused before Allyson with intensity in her gaze. “I called a cab.”

  “Okay, okay.” Allyson hung up the phone. A cab it was. She wondered what Sondra and Izzy would think of that. Another twist in their already U-turned night.