The Kitchen Shrink

by Dee Detarsio

  He answered all my questions, said he’d been doing it for seven years, and told me to bring Nicole in; he’d be there all afternoon. Nicole was so excited she was a doll; sweet and charming. Or maybe I appreciated her more in the wake of the huge fight I had with my own mom. I should have at least bartered harder and gotten Nicole to clean her closet.

  Elgin seemed to think this was some sort of a ‘rite of passage’ and sent Sam up with us to shoot Nicole’s piercing. He made us wear microphones in the car but Nicole was in such a good mood she didn’t care. My palms were sweating and slippery on the steering wheel. “Are you sure you really want to do this?”

  My 15-going-on-flirty daughter just beamed. “Thanks, Mom,” she leaned her head over and kissed my arm. She did know me well enough to know how hard this was on me, but she also knew how to work me. She knew I adored her and hated to say no. She knew I loved her and was trying to respect her and her decisions. I thought back on my childhood. I was such a nerd at 15. And 20. Twenty-five come to think of it. Nicole, on the other hand, seemed to be born with an innate sense of style. Good for her, I thought, glancing over at her, wondering what she was thinking. Probably how hot she was going to look.

  Now that we were on our way up the coast, I tried to enjoy the experience. We didn’t talk much, but in a good way. Nicole controlled the radio, for our listening pleasure. She always loved car rides and it was nice to just be with her. It was a beautiful, sunny afternoon, heading up through Del Mar, overlooking the ocean on our way to the tattoo parlor. My mom would so freak. What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.

  Tat2 was on the west side of the street, a funky old-looking beach shack. We pulled in and parked and Nicole took my hand. Hers was damp as she gave me quick squeeze. “You OK?” I asked.

  She ginned.

  We walked into an incense-filled den of iniquity. The buzz of someone getting a tattoo hummed loudly from the back of the shop. A tattooed man sat on a faded couch reading a magazine while an older woman who had to be in her 60s sat next to him, wearing Daisy Dukes and a midriff top. Rock on, I thought.

  “I’m Joel,” said the guy behind the counter, sporting those ear stretching tunnels in each lobe. He had tattoos beginning from his left wrist, marching all the way up his arm and right back down his right arm to his right wrist.

  “Hi, Joel. I’m Lisby, we spoke on the phone about my daughter, Nicole.” I nodded at her. “She wants her belly button pierced.”

  “Hey.” He smiled at Nicole.

  I introduced him to Sam and Dustin, who were bringing in the camera gear and setting up a light. Elgin had called and talked to the manager to get permission, and Sam had releases for everyone in the shop to sign. Joel signed the paper and then showed us the jewelry selection, explaining to Nicole how it worked and how important it was to clean the piercing several times a day with a saline solution.

  “I’ll let you guys talk about it, and I’ll go get your permission form if you want to go ahead,” he said, disappearing behind a curtain.

  Nicole looked up at me, her eyes wide.

  “I like him and I’m comfortable. He knows his stuff. It’s up to you,” I said.

  She was scared, but determined. Joel came back with a questioning look. I held my hand out for the paper and signed off my permission. He took us to the front room that had an antique dentist’s chair. Joel pulled on latex gloves and carefully cleaned Nicole’s belly button with Betadine scrub and showed me the sterilized, packaged equipment. He measured Nicole’s belly button then stood her up and carefully marked where he would be doing the piercing, showing her where the needle would go in and come out. She looked in the mirror and nodded.

  His voice was soothing as he eased her back into the chair. “Body piercing is one of the most ancient forms of body art. Archaeologists found a 4,000 year old statue with holes in its ears for piercings.”

  “I bet her mother wasn’t too happy, either.”

  “Mom,” Nicole said. Joel just laughed.

  “Mayans used to pierce their tongues in spiritual rituals,” he continued.

  “Ugh.” I crossed my arms over my chest.

  “Egyptian pharaohs used to pierce their navels in a rite of passage. Are you sure you don’t want to get it done?” he asked me.

  “Yeah, mom, do it,” Nicole said.

  Sam swung the camera right into my face and I tried not to wince.

  “That’s not the part of my body that I want to be calling attention to,” I said, tugging on my shirt, knowing I sounded like a prude.

  “That’s cool,” Joel said. “To each his own.”

  I looked into the other room, at the tattooed man, and further back, at a younger guy getting a new tattoo. I didn’t understand it, but I respected it. The artwork really was amazing and intricate. “You know, those tribal armband tattoos are pretty sexy.”

  Nicole looked up at me from the chair. “Please don’t ever say that word again.”

  “OK,” I nodded while Joel laughed.

  “How about a tattoo for you?” He suggested as I shook my head. “Sixteen percent of adults have them and that number is going up as we speak.

  “Thanks but no thanks.” I was too busy counting my lucky stars my kids didn’t have tattoos. Yet.

  “OK, Nicole,” Joel said. “Here’s the needle.” Her eyes widened and she reached for my hand. “I’m going to put on these forceps,” he held up a silver pair of scissor-like looking forceps with holes in the ends, “see, they’ll hold your skin in place while I do the piercing, OK?” She nodded. I held my breath. “It’s going to hurt for about two seconds, but you’ll be fine,” he soothed. “Here we go.”

  She squeezed my hand tightly and I couldn’t look away. I felt the needle stab through my baby’s smooth skin. This wasn’t my choice. I was really beginning to see that just because she’s my daughter, her path isn’t mine.

  Joel got the needle through the pinch of skin and then slid the belly button ring through, a surgical steel ring with a cubic zirconia that nestled into her naval. It was very cute.

  “All done,” he said, cleaning her off. He stood her up again to show her in the mirror. She loved it. He asked if he could take a picture for his files, she loved that too. She was so happy with the placement. He did do a nice job centering it. He totally knew his business and was proud of his work.

  The older woman came and oohed and aahed over it, and rubbed her hand over her own crepey belly button. “I want one now.”

  Even the tattooed man seemed impressed. He nodded his head, “Looks good.” Nicole smiled and thanked them.

  Elgin was right. It had been a rite of passage. I allowed Nicole the freedom to make her choice, with her own body, and I was even able, after only a little nagging, to support it. I know I looked at her a little differently. Who was this young woman? What are her hopes and dreams? Where will she be five years from now? I wonder how she saw me? I could practically hear Brett’s voice laughing in my head, “She doesn’t see you at all.” But that was OK. Maybe she would remember this afternoon. Our new friends, Joel, Lester and Nadia waved goodbye to us from the steps of the porch, wishing us well.

  “You, too.” Nicole and I waved back. Then she squeezed my hand twice, like she used to when she was a little girl. Our secret signal. “Love you.”

  Chapter 18

  Blind Date

  “Since I own you,” Elgin began.

  Oh, he was up to no good. I waited for incoming that landed with a splat. For some reason, the producers decided I needed a man to make my world A-OK. Elgin here says he found me one. So, there I was, getting dolled up.

  OK. I was excited, I was nervous, I wanted to vomit. I haven’t been on a date in something like 20 years. I didn’t count the Martinator. That wasn’t a date. If it was, I’m calling for a do-over. Phil-O wasn’t a date either. He was a magical interlude that I wish upon on all of my sisters. Sisters, as in every woman I know. A gorgeous guy who managed to relight my sparkle without needing anything in retu
rn. No meals cooked, no underwear washed, no rides to the airport. I missed Phil-O, but in a good way.

  I stepped out of the shower just in time to hear Daria knock-knock-knock-knock-knock on my door.

  “Your fairy godmother is here!” She sang out, entering my bedroom carrying two shopping bags. “I had to get past your fairy godmother downstairs,” she added. “That Elgin. He’s convinced he’s found your Prince Charming. Who is this guy?”

  “Didn’t Elgin tell you?” I bent over and wrapped my wet hair in my towel, turban style and whipped myself back upright. “It’s a blind date.”

  “Well, I know that,” Daria said. “Who is it?”

  “The blind guy.”

  “Your blind date is blind?”

  “No, he’s the owner of Blind Man’s Bluff, the guy who’s putting the plantation shutters in my kitchen.”

  “Oh, that Elgin is good.”

  “Shut up.”

  “So, have you met him?”

  “He came out to do the initial measuring, not something he usually does but, hey, it’s TV, right?”

  Daria nodded.

  “Elgin fell in love with him, and I wasn’t really paying attention. I only met him briefly, but he seemed nice.”

  “What does he look like?”

  “Young,” I said.

  “How young and so what?” Daria laughed, as she set the bags on my bed and pulled out an impossibly tiny black dress.

  “Who’s that for?” I asked, tugging at the dress and watching it snap back to about a size 4; as in 4T toddler size.

  “It’s pour vous, Lisby Lou.”

  “Come on. Never gonna happen.” I looked at Daria. I looked at Daria’s boobs. I looked back at the dress.

  “Yes, it’s my dress and fits me just fine, thank you. It’s my lucky dress.” She leered at me and tossed it over.

  “This fits you?” I asked and then looked down at myself.

  “Honey, honey, it’s the beauty of design, elasticity and a forgiving fit. Trust me.”

  “Funny, that’s what Elgin said.”

  “Go try it on.”

  “Where did you get this?’”

  “Ask me no questions, I’ll tell you no lies.” She clapped her hands. “Chop, chop.”

  I went into my closet, pulled off my robe and lost the towel. I shook and shimmied my way into the black body stocking that was about the size of a paper towel tube, feeling like Harry Potter apparating or something. To my amazement, I was able to A: get into it and B: pull it down nearly to my knees. I walked out to show Daria.

  She gave a wolf whistle. “Hot damn.”

  I turned and looked into the mirror. “Oh, my.” The scrunchy elastic gathering of the dress poofed up my boobs, curved in at my waist and hugged my hips without delineating my roly-polies…Hmm. Its heart shaped neckline didn’t droop too low, I looked over at Daria, but I bet it did when Daria had it on. Its cap sleeves also had the ruching in it so I would be able to wear a bra. Padded bra. Cool. I twisted and turned for better views. “Daria, this is a cool dress.”

  “Nope, you are a cool goddess,” she said handing me pair of gold beaded mules with a two inch heel. While our boobs weren’t even in the same zip code, our feet were exactly the same size. “I was going to give you my black stiletto sandals but fear your tennis shoe/flip-flop wearing mom’s feet would go into shock and topple off.”

  “You thought right,” I said, taking the most beautiful pair of shoes I had ever seen. “Daria, these are gorgeous. I’m scared to wear them. What if I spill on them or get them scuffed?”

  “What? How are you going to spill on them? You’re actually planning on having your feet up by your mouth, nasty girl.”

  “Daria. Seriously. These are amazing shoes.”

  “I know. Wanna know what they cost?”

  “No. But, tell me anyway.”

  “You don’t want to know.”

  “I know, but let’s hear it.”

  “You do know I’m a successful TV star…” she began.

  “Daria.”

  “They were a little over $400.”

  I placed them gently on my bed and stepped away. “I’m not wearing these. Daria, you love your shoes like they were your kids. I couldn’t wear these, I’d be too nervous.”

  She wrinkled her nose at me as she nodded her head. “Just try them on. Just once. Here in your bedroom.” She put them on the floor at my feet. I stepped into them, feeling just like Cinderella. They really were the most perfect shoes I had ever seen. The gold, copper, silver, and red crystal beadwork was exquisite. They, of course, fit me perfectly. I walked over to the mirror. Nay, I glided.

  “They’re gorgeous,” I said. The heel was high enough to define my calves but not too high to walk in. They were snug enough to stay on without having to curl my toes, but not tight enough to cause a blister. They were spiky enough to dot the exclamation point of ‘Hubba Hubba!’ with a well-placed kick.

  “You know, he probably won’t even notice these shoes,” I tried one more time. “I have my black heels that I could wear…”

  “Lisby. I agree with your informal poll, margin of error plus or minus three percent, that only other women and gay guys notice shoes, but you’ll know you have them on. If you think the dress is lucky, wait until you get a load of the power of these shoes.”

  Daria helped me blow dry my hair and did my make-up. I was so worked up I had a stomach ache. “Dating sucks,” I said, checking my reflection in the mirror for the hundredth time.

  “Just have fun. It’s not like you’re going to marry the guy.”

  We looked at each other and burst out laughing. I always teased Daria that every date she went on, always started out with the premise that maybe ‘this guy’ was her soul mate. I tried to counsel her that guys always had the premise that maybe ‘this girl’ will give him some.

  In spite of all my teasing of Daria, I knew exactly how she felt, especially since she reminded me.

  “Although, aren’t you the one who fell in love and planned a future based on some guy’s eyelashes?” Daria said.

  “At least I got two kids out of it.”

  “Take it down a notch,” Daria said. “It’s just dinner, and I know what you are thinking.”

  “Oh, it takes real ESP to guess that I’d like a magical evening, for once. I’m trying to change, remember? I’m trying to be positive. Who knows? Maybe this night will turn into something special.”

  Daria pumped her hands. “Shh! Will you stop giving the universe police directions to your hopes and dreams? Be cool.”

  “When have I ever been cool?”

  Daria laughed at me as I warned myself to knock it off. I had to go to the bathroom one more time.

  I headed downstairs to do a quick interview against the teal cabinets that had finally been installed, complete with all the cupboard doors. Not that I would tell Elgin, but the cabinets were beautiful. I couldn’t wait until my kitchen was finished. I was so nervous for my date I forgot to be nervous about the questions. The crew, including Sam, actually applauded as I came down the stairs.

  “It’s been a tough week, Elgin,” I said in response to his ‘how do I think things are going?’

  “My mom, my kids,” I threw up my hands. “I think my kitchen is getting there,” I did a Vanna White hand swoop, “and, thanks to you,” I tried to think of a good sound bite for the editors to use when they put the show together, “I have a ‘blind’ date.”

  Elgin laughed and clapped, just as the doorbell rang. “Open the door, for your mystery date,” Elgin sang as the camera followed me to the front door.

  “Hi, Teddy,” I said to the blind guy. He was kind of cute, but he reminded me of someone. I couldn’t put my finger on it. He came bearing flowers; a bouquet of orchids, nestling against a big shiny banana leaf tied with raffia. Nice. Maybe this would be fun. Maybe I was just begging the universe to set me up to fail, once again. Maybe I would stop thinking stuff like that. I handed the flowers off to Daria and
headed off on my adventure.

  Teddy helped me into his road penis, a shiny midnight blue Infinity. Sweet! I hated myself for thinking like that. It must be a California thing. Oh, who was I kidding? Everybody always searched for clues about other people. I bet an Amish girl noticed if her date had brushed the mane on the horse he rode up on.

  I smiled at Teddy. He grinned back at me as I sunk into the gray leather passenger seat. “Ready?” he asked me.

  “And willing,” I said. Oh, God. I am the world’s worst flirt. I already felt myself falling for this guy. He could be the one. How great would that be? I could stop looking.

  Sam continued rolling the camera as Teddy slammed my door closed. I tried to memorize details of the drive; as we headed west, the sky was so hazy over the rolling hills, the vee of the ocean in the distance appeared erased. Sam and Dustin followed us to this chi chi restaurant on the coast, called Wiso’s. I had only eaten there once, with Daria, and we must have had too much to drink because we kept tormenting our waiter every time he brought us something. “We so hungry, you so full,” and then we’d laugh, until next time. “We so pretty, you so handsome,” and so on. All night. I hope we left a big enough tip. I hope that waiter got a new job.

  Even though we weren’t on camera in the car, Teddy and I were both miced and our audio was being recorded. Elgin would spy on the tapes tomorrow along with a follow up interview with me, and of course, my date. Like I wasn’t self-conscious enough. I tried to begin some scintillating conversation, but I couldn’t remember the past tense of ‘dream’. Surely dreamt isn’t a real word? Besides, what loser talks about dreams on a first date? I hated listening to other people’s dreams. In fact, it was sort of a pet peeve of mine. Oh, crap, I was sweating.

  “So, tell me about your business, Teddy.”

  He leaned over and turned down the volume on his car stereo. Shoot, I was just beginning to groove to his tunes that sounded exactly like the music they play at SeaWorld. Everything on a first date is a clue, from music to car color choice.