The Secret Desires of a Soccer Mom

by Robyn Harding

  “What! Oh my God!” She pulled her hands from mine and covered the lower part of her face.

  “I know, hon. It’s just so… terrible, so… tragic.”

  “But, she can’t be dead. I just saw her this morning. What-what happened?”

  I heaved a heavy sigh. “I don’t know much, but it sounds like she fell and hit her head on something in the garage.”

  “Oh God,” Carly said quietly, her soft voice muffled further by her fingers over her mouth. “Oh God. Oh God. Oh God.”

  “I know. I know. I know.”

  There was a long and mildly uncomfortable silence. I knew I wasn’t doing a very good job of comforting Carly, but it wasn’t like I’d had days to come to terms with the tragedy. In fact, I was in desperate need of some comforting myself. If Paul didn’t get home soon, Karen wouldn’t be the only one with a head injury. Still, I felt I should be hugging my friend, or at least holding her hand. But Carly stayed as she was, hands on her cheeks Macauley Culkin—style, knees drawn up to her chest. Awkwardly, I patted her shin a couple of times. Finally, I cleared my throat and spoke. “Why don’t you come to our house? It’s not a good idea to be alone right now.” Carly didn’t respond. I wasn’t even sure she’d heard me. “Carly… come on. Let’s go to my place.”

  She looked at me then, her hands finally slipping from their resting place on her cheeks. “Uh… no… No thanks, Paige. I’d rather be alone.”

  “Come on. We’ll call Jane and Trudy. I think we should all be together at a time like this.”

  “No.” Her voice was firm, resolute. She stood up, obviously my cue to leave. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  And then I was alone in the cool evening air. I began to walk home but paused on the sidewalk in front of my neighbor’s home. It had gotten dark, and I turned to stare at the warm, lamp light illuminating Carly’s sheer, frilly curtains. She was in shock, just like I had been—still was. I hoped I’d made the right decision, leaving her home alone to grieve. I didn’t have a lot of mourning experience, thankfully. Other than my grandparents and several hamsters, my life had been largely untouched by death. On TV, grief was best dealt with in large, sobbing groups. But maybe that was just in mafia movies. This was Denver. This was Aberdeen Mists. This was real.

  When I entered the warmth of my own home, Mrs. Williams was busy in the kitchen making tomato soup and grilled-cheese sandwiches for the children.

  “Thanks so much, Mavis,” I said, padding quietly into the kitchen in my stocking feet.

  “Can I fix you something, dear?” She turned to face me. “You’ve suffered a terrible shock, and this must be so hard for you. I know you two girls were such good friends.” As my chin began to quiver, Mrs. Williams put down the flipper, and pulled me into her rose scented bosom. And that did it. That gesture of sympathy released all the sorrow I’d been repressing. I felt a deep, painful sob shudder in my chest. I didn’t want the kids to see me fall apart—at least not until I’d had a chance to explain what had happened.

  “Would you mind staying a little longer?” I asked, in a voice hoarse with emotion. “Just until Paul gets home?”

  “Of course, dear. I’ll stay as long as you need me.”

  And with that, I escaped to the quiet and seclusion of my bedroom, where I cried for all I was worth.

  Chapter 9

  Somehow, I managed to sleep that night. When Paul got home, he brought me a glass of brandy and some painkillers left over from when he’d had his root canal. That may have helped a little. “Take these,” he’d said, handing me two small, white tablets. “You need to rest. This has been such a huge shock to your system. You’ve just lost one of your best friends.” This set me off weeping hysterically again, but I managed to choke down the pills and most of the brandy. While I knew mixing alcohol and narcotics was not normally a good idea, this was not a normal time. And I needed to numb myself, to turn off the pain, at least for a little while.

  When I awoke, I enjoyed a brief moment of innocent contentment before the horrible reality of the situation descended upon me like a leaden blanket. Paul had taken the kids to school and had offered to stay home if I needed him. I’d sent him off to work, confident that a little time alone would help me come to terms with Karen’s death. But this morning, I suddenly felt so isolated, even uneasy in my empty house. Rolling over, I grabbed the phone off the side table and called Jane.

  “How are you?” she asked, sounding much stronger than she had the previous night.

  “I don’t know. I’m as good as can be expected, I guess.”

  “Me, too. I’m devastated of course, but I’m holding it together. Not like poor Trudy.”

  “Trudy?” I hadn’t called Trudy yet, mostly because I wasn’t worried about her. I just assumed that Trudy would be a pillar of strength, busily making casseroles for Doug and sweets for the eventual funeral.

  “Trudy’s fallen apart. She can’t even get out of bed. Carly’s gone to look after her. She even had to take Emily and Cameron to school. Ken’s not back from his business trip until the weekend.”

  “Thank God for Carly,” I said. “Did you talk to her?”

  “She called early this morning.”

  “How’s she holding up? When I left her last night, she was still reeling.”

  “She seems to have pulled herself together. And you know Carly… She’s always there for everyone else. She’s looking after Trudy and already baking muffins to take over to Doug.”

  “Good… that’s good.”

  “I told her I’d stay with the kids this afternoon, if she needs a break.”

  “Or they could come here to play with Chloe and Spencer.” I’m sure I could put up with the odious little creatures for one afternoon.

  “I’ll let her know.”

  “So… is it appropriate to go see Doug now?” I asked. “I’ve got some… banana bread that I wanted to take over.”

  “I think so. It will probably make him feel better to know that he has our support. Becca’s whipping up a pecan bar, right now. Daniel and I are going to take it over this afternoon and give him our condolences.”

  Of course, I had no banana bread. I didn’t even have any bananas, but I had to see Doug. Maybe then, Karen’s tragic death would feel real to me. Plus, I had to see for myself how Doug was handling the situation. I couldn’t help but think that there was something fishy about Karen’s sudden demise. No one else seemed to have a problem with the “fell-over-and-conked-head-in- garage’ scenario, but then, no one else knew what I did.

  I quickly showered, dressed and headed downstairs. In the kitchen, I rummaged through the cupboards in search of a condolence offering for Doug. I really wasn’t up for baking, not to mention the fact that I was short on a number of ingredients. At first, my search seemed futile: juice boxes, fruit roll ups, goldfish crackers, cans of tomato soup…. None of these seemed a particularly appropriate gift for a grieving widower. That’s when I spotted the blue box at the back of the cupboard—individually wrapped Rice Krispies squares. Yes! Could there be any greater comfort food than the Rice Krispies square? And, they were also low in fat and cholesterol. I’m sure Becca’s pecan bars couldn’t claim that. Hurriedly, I retrieved the box and began ripping open the foil packets. When I had opened fourteen pouches, I placed the squares on a plate, squishing them with the palm of my hand for authenticity. Adequately misshapen, I had just begun to wrap them in plastic wrap, when I was interrupted by the phone.

  “How are you doing, babe?” It was Paul.

  “I’m okay—sad, but okay. How were the kids this morning?”

  “They were good. I explained to them what happened, and that mommy needs some time alone.”

  “What did you say about Karen?”

  “I told them the truth. Karen had a very bad accident. She fell and hit her head, and now she’s gone to heaven.”

  God, if only that was the truth. I don’t mean the heaven part. Not being a religious person, I didn’t believe in the traditional
, angels-and-pearly-gates kind of heaven. And even if it did exist, I wasn’t sure they’d be letting the likes of Karen in; I’ve heard they frown on adultery there. But I wished her death was simply, as Paul said, a very bad accident. Deep in my gut, I knew it couldn’t be that easy.

  Paul continued. “So, do you have any plans today? Are you and the girls getting together?”

  “Actually, I’m going to see Doug. I made him some Rice Krispies squares.”

  “Oh. Do you think he’s ready to have visitors?”

  “Well, I think it’s important that he knows we’re here for him. Jane agrees.”

  There was a brief pause before my husband spoke again. “You’re right. He needs to know he’s got friends who care about him. Give me forty-five minutes and I’ll come with you.”

  “Uh… no, that’s okay,” I stammered. I didn’t want Paul to accompany me. There were questions I needed to ask Doug, questions that would undoubtedly sound strange to Paul. I didn’t need him there to censor me. “You’re busy, and you can see Doug later. We don’t want to overwhelm him.”

  “I want to come, Paige. I want to be there for you.” Oh sure, pick now to become caring and supportive. “Besides, Karen and Doug were just over at our house a few days ago. Christ, I still can’t believe it.”

  “Okay, fine,” I acquiesced. “But hurry up. If you’re not here in forty-five, I’m going by myself.”

  Unfortunately, Paul arrived home thirty-eight minutes later. “There’s no traffic at this time of day,” he said, sounding very pleased with himself.

  “Great,” I mumbled, smoothing the plastic wrap around my ‘baking”. “Let’s go.”

  Paul held my arm supportively as we walked down the street toward Karen and Doug’s house. Well, I guess it was just Doug’s house now, but that was going to take some getting used to. I clutched the off-white ceramic plate with both hands, my fingers beginning to ache with the tension. My heart was beating loudly in my chest and my throat was uncomfortably dry. I felt nervous and panicky. Was I really ready to face Doug? What if I somehow sensed that he’d had something to do with Karen’s fall? What then? Did I call the police? Tell Paul? Would Paul be angry that I hadn’t disclosed the information about Karen’s affair sooner? God, I wished I had. But I couldn’t bring it up now. It would be tasteless to slander the dead. And if it did turn out to be nothing more than a bizarre attached garage accident, I didn’t want to sully Karen’s good name.

  “Here we are,” Paul said, clearing his throat nervously as we stood on Doug’s front steps.

  “Yep,” I agreed. “Here we are.”

  “Well… ring the bell.”

  “You ring it. I’ve got my hands full with these delicious Rice Krispies treats.”

  “…Okay.” Reaching forward, he pressed the mother-of-pearl button, then quickly stepped back to stand slightly behind me, the coward. We could hear the chimes sounding within the house. Moments later, the door swung open.

  “Oh… Hi Carly.”

  “Hi Paige… Paul…” She kissed my cheek and then my husband’s. “I just got here.”

  “I thought you were with Trudy?”

  “She’s asleep,” Carly said, her voice hushed, as if Trudy were snoozing right behind her on the floor of the grand entryway. “She took a little something to calm her nerves. I’ll go back when the kids get off school. I just realized that Doug was all alone. His sister is flying in from Vancouver on Friday.”

  “How’s he doing?”

  “Well… he seems to be holding up. I’m sure he’d love to see you. Come in.” Carly ushered us into Karen’s home. We stood awkwardly in the foyer, both of us unsure of whether we should enter farther. “Take your coats off,” Carly instructed. “I’ll go tell Doug you’re here.”

  “Hold these for a sec.” I passed Paul the plate of squares and slipped out of my heavy fall coat, hanging it on the stainless steel coat tree. Karen’s denim jacket hung on one of the pegs. I felt an involuntary shudder run through me.

  Paul said, “I’ll leave my coat on. I don’t think we should stay too long.”

  Doug rounded the corner. He looked pale, drawn, every inch the distraught husband. When he looked at me, his eyes welled with tears. “Paige…” his voice was hoarse. “Thank you for coming.” I moved toward him and enveloped him in the tight embrace of mutual sorrow. As we held each other, I could feel his body shaking with sobs. Tears streamed down my cheeks, wetting the sides of my hair and Doug’s collar. “I loved her so much,” Doug whispered.

  “Me, too,” I replied. At that moment, I felt sure Doug’s grief was real. He had lost the woman he loved and he was devastated. There was no way he could have had anything to do with Karen’s death. But when he pulled away from me, I couldn’t help but notice that the tears that had pooled in his eyes had dissipated, and his cheeks were dry.

  Doug turned to Paul then. “Thanks for coming.”

  “I’m so sorry for your loss,” Paul said, awkwardly. “Umm… Paige made you these Rice Krispies squares.” He thrust the plate toward Doug.

  “Let me take those to the kitchen,” Carly intervened.

  Paul continued in a strained voice. “We just wanted you to know that we’re here for you. If you need anything, anything at all…”

  “That’s right,” I squeezed Doug’s forearm. “Anything… anytime… we’re here for you.”

  “Would anyone like coffee? Tea?” Carly offered.

  “Oh no,” Paul said quickly. “We won’t stay. We just wanted Doug to know that—”

  “Actually, I’d love a cup of coffee,” I interrupted. “If you’ve got some made?”

  “I’ll put a pot on. It’s no trouble.”

  “You don’t need to make coffee just for us,” Paul protested. “Really, we should be going.”

  “We’ve got time for a quick cup,” I said, slipping my shoes off. I turned to Doug. “You don’t mind if we stay for a few minutes, do you?” I realized I was being pushy, but I wasn’t about to leave without gaining some information.

  “Oh… of course not.”

  “See?” I said to my husband who was staring at me with angry eyes. “Doug doesn’t mind. Why don’t you give Carly a hand in the kitchen?” Then, linking my arm with Doug’s, we moved farther into the house.

  Doug and Karen’s home was incredible… Really, it was almost what you’d call opulent. It had a similar floor plan to most of the new homes in Aberdeen Mists, but the difference was in the details. They had spared no expense: the floors were the highest-quality walnut, the millwork was detailed and exquisite, and the fixtures were stylish brushed nickel. As we passed the kitchen, I took in the glistening granite countertops and rich, slate flooring. At the far end of the room was the door that led to the attached garage. In a flash, I saw an image of Karen, lying alone in her immaculate carport, the life slipping out of her. I shook my head to dislodge the disturbing picture. At the same time, I released Doug’s arm.

  I followed him into their formal living room… actually it may have been their casual, family room. Both rooms were impeccably decorated with lavish furnishings, expensive art and tasteful knick-knacks. Having no kids, it was easy for Karen to keep her home pristine. If she’d had the baby they had longed for, it would have been a different story. At least one of their living rooms would have been slated for demolition—spit-up on the couches, mountains of Cheerios crushed under the cushions, crackers ground into the carpet… This thought brought a lump of emotion to my throat: my friend would never have the frustrating, yet somehow fulfilling experience of scrubbing her baby’s vomit off her sofa. But I forced myself to focus on the task at hand. I had to get some details from Doug, and I had to get them before Paul and Carly joined us with the coffee.

  “So…,” I said, sitting next to him on the plush divan. “Your sister is coming to stay with you?” I had to start with a little small talk.

  “In a few days. She has to find someone to take care of her kids.”

  “It’s nice that yo
u have family to be with you during this difficult time.”

  “Yeah…” He looked and sounded exhausted, but still I pressed on.

  “Umm… Jane mentioned that you had talked to Karen before. . .” —I trailed off, unsure of how to phrase it gently— “…her accident.”

  “She called me in Chicago.”

  “What did she say?”

  “That she wanted to talk to me about something when I got home.”

  “Did she say what it was? Do you have any idea?”

  “Not really,” he sighed heavily. “She just sounded a little down… a little blue. I thought it would be nice to surprise her by coming home early. But when I got home. . .”A painful sob broke free even as Doug tried to stifle it with his fist to his lips.

  I leaned toward him and patted his knee sympathetically. “When you got home, what? What did you see?”

  “Just… Karen… lying there.”

  “And she’d hit her head, is that right?” He nodded. “Was there anything on the floor?” I did not mean blood, but quickly realized that’s how it must have sounded. “Like, had anything spilled—oil, maybe? Could she have slipped?”

  “I—I don’t remember. I didn’t notice.”

  “Could she have had a pre-existing condition—something that could have caused her to black out and hit her head? Something you didn’t know about?”

  “Here’s the coffee!” Carly entered the room, obviously making a conscious effort to sound upbeat. Paul trailed behind her holding a plate of delicious looking apple muffins, and my slightly squashed store-bought Rice Krispies squares. Idle chitchat ensued as we busied ourselves fixing our beverages and loading snacks onto side plates, but soon, the banter had been exhausted and we lapsed into an awkward silence.

  “So…,” Paul finally said. “If you need any help around the house… you know, any yard work or anything…”

  “Thanks,” Doug murmured, staring into his coffee cup.

  “And don’t you worry about meals,” Carly added. “I’ll make sure you’ve got plenty of food in the freezer to get you through.” Doug gave her an exhausted smile of gratitude.