Date: February 13
Hi, Asami,
No, I never did, but she sent sushi to the curriculum night party, so I
know she exists. LOL!
Jen
* * *
I know, I know: weak joke when you have to put LOL at the end, but since there is no definitive proof that Asami has a sense of humor, I thought I’d spell it out for her. Her reply is almost instantaneous.
* * *
To: JDixon
From: AChang
Subject: A question …
Date: February 13
Jen,
I don’t think she does.
Asami
* * *
I blink three times and stare at the screen. What the hell does that mean? Sasha Lewicki doesn’t exist? I’m working through this thought when the Dixon men come tramping through the door. They spent the morning at the store and the afternoon attempting to ice-skate at the indoor rink. Ron wanted to take Max to the frozen pond, but I suggested that if it was too cold he wouldn’t like it and the whole experience would be over before it even started. If Ron took him to the indoor rink and plied him with hot chocolate, he would definitely be more cooperative.
“Mom!” Max yells needlessly.
“Hey! How was your day?” I ask as I pull off his leopard-print jacket, orange hat, and soaking-wet striped mittens. I notice that he has a black scarf tied over his lime-green pants. It looks like a skirt.
“It was awesome! I made it all the way around once by myself.” Max’s cheeks are rosy and his eyes are shining. My heart bursts with love for this little munchkin. I look to Ron for confirmation and he nods.
“Next stop, hockey.” He grins.
“Or I could do what that guy was doing in the middle of the ice—remember, Dad?”
Max starts to spin around in the middle of the kitchen.
“Figure skating,” Ron mouths to me, and I have to look away so I won’t laugh at the disappointment on his face.
“Looks cool. Now go wash your hands. Dinner’s ready. Skillet tacos just for you.”
“Ninja!” Max yells, and runs to the bathroom off the kitchen.
“How was your day, babe?” Ron gives me a quick kiss on the lips and heads to the fridge.
It’s such a simple question, but with so many possible answers. I decide to keep it brief.
“Well, let’s see. My best friend slept with my trainer.”
Ron registers only mild interest. Why don’t men ever react the way you want them to?
“Really? I didn’t know they were a thing.” His head is in the fridge so I can barely hear him.
“I just found out myself. I’m a little freaked out.”
Ron turns around with one of Max’s Danimals in his hand.
“Why?”
“I think Garth might be a player.”
“A player?” Ron cracks up. “I don’t think so.” He downs the Danimals in one gulp.
“Why not?”
He keeps laughing.
“Well, to be a player you’ve got to have game. And that man just does not have it. I mean, he’s a nice guy, but there’s no way he’s playing Nina.”
“I hope you’re right. I don’t think she could take another heartbreak.”
“What heartbreak? They slept together once.”
“Sometimes once is all it takes for a woman to fall in love. A man, too, by the way.”
Ron looks at me skeptically. “Did you fall in love the first time we had sex?”
“Well, no. But it was three sweaty minutes in the back of your car. All we did was burst the dam of lust that had built up. The first time we made love in a bed, I was pretty swept away.”
“So location has something to do with falling in love.”
“Oh, my God. Are you even listening to me?”
Just then, the back door opens and Chyna walks in. At the same time Max returns with clean hands and an empty stomach, so I know that our discussion is over. Ron turns and heads into the living room and I’m relieved, because clearly I am arguing myself into a corner and making no sense to anyone.
“Chyna! Sweetie. How are you?” I give her a hug.
She smiles and hugs me back nice and tight.
“I’m good.”
She looks so much like her mom that I often wonder if she has even one drop of Sid’s DNA.
“How’s your mom?” l ask as I fill a plate for Max and place it in front of him.
“Really good. She’s been in such a great mood lately.”
“I’ve noticed that, too. Hey, can you sit with Max while he eats? I have to get ready.”
“Sure thing. Hey, Max, whatcha eating?” She sits down beside him.
“Skillet tacos.” Max answers with his mouth full, of course. “Want some?”
“Yeah, I do!” Chyna knows she can help herself to anything in our house. We have an open-fridge policy.
While they eat, I dash upstairs and find Ron in the shower. I head into the bedroom and check my phone. Two texts from Don. One is a selfie outside the Starbucks near school and the other says:
Do you have time for a Valentine’s Day coffee tomorrow?
I actually do have time tomorrow, but I hold off texting him back. Not sure where the line is these days, but I think that would definitely be crossing it.
* * *
J. Gilbert’s is the best steakhouse in Overland Park. Their dry-aged steaks are phenomenal and the restaurant has a comfortable old-school feel with its mahogany furniture and crisp white table linens. There isn’t one waiter under the age of fifty, and they are formal to the point of being rude.
But the waiters are worth tolerating because J. Gilbert’s happens to serve the most delicious onion rings I have ever tasted. They are pretzel-coated and served with three dipping sauces that are so good I don’t know which one to have first. Ron knows it’s my favorite fancy place, so he surprises me once in a while. Tonight it genuinely is a surprise, because we were just here for New Year’s Eve.
“Twice in two months? Are you cheating on me?” I narrow my eyes at him over my menu.
“Actually, New Year’s was kind of a bust, if you remember, so I thought we deserved a do-over.” Ron gives my hand a squeeze across the table.
He’s being kinder than I deserve. I was still in my class mom funk on New Year’s Eve and I was determined not to have a good time.
Mission accomplished, by the way. Not only did I have a shitty time, I was able to suck the fun away from everyone at our table, which was filled with Ron’s favorite customers and their spouses. It’s one of my superpowers, along with growing a person in my stomach and peeling labels off beer bottles intact. It was definitely not my finest moment as the wife of a successful sports-store owner, but in the moment I felt more than justified in forcing my pity party on everyone.
So on the most romantic of holidays (ahem), I’m thrilled to embrace this do-over night with the love of my life and an excellent bottle of ’94 Turley Zinfandel (clearly I’m taking a little break from that clean eating and drinking). We order dinner, then sit back and enjoy our first few sips of wine. What a perfect night.
Just as I am getting my first hint of a buzz on, my eyes are pulled across the room to a couple being seated on the other side of the restaurant. Both tall and thin, him with short salt-and-pepper hair and her with long brown hair flowing down her back.
Well, well, well, if it isn’t the dashing David and Kim Fancy, celebrating Scoundrel’s Night at the same place we are. My mind starts to click through the events of this morning—the bitch slap and all—and I try to piece together why these two would be out for a romantic dinner.
“Jen!”
“What?” Ron’s voice snaps me out of my reverie.
“What are you staring at?” He looks annoyed.
“Sorry, babe, I just noticed the Fancys sitting across the room and wondered what they’re doing here.”
Ron shrugs.
“Same as us, probably.”
&n
bsp; I doubt it, but say nothing. Instead, I ask him to tell me all about his ice-capades with Max this afternoon.
“Man, he really loved it. Good call on the indoor rink, by the way.” He raises his glass to me in salute.
“Did he really go around the rink by himself?”
“I was right behind him, but yes, he did.” I can tell Ron is proud. “It didn’t take him long at all to find his legs. Now, if I can just get a stick in his hands…”
I give him an encouraging smile while he unfolds his long-term plan to get Max to the NHL. As I take a sip of my insanely delicious wine (seriously, if you can ever find a bottle, you will not be disappointed) I glance back over to the Fancy table. They are sitting across from each other, but are both leaning in. Kim seems to be doing a lot of talking while the dashing David just nods and listens. Is she reprimanding him for his affair? Is she telling him that she smacked his mistress around? That he better not dare step out on her again or there will be hell to pay? Damn, I wish my lip-reading skills were better. Or, you know, existent. The waiter, walking to our table, interrupts my view.
“Petite filet for the lady and porterhouse for you, sir. Enjoy.” He turns on his heel and walks away just as a second waiter arrives with our side dishes and of course, my onion rings. We dig in.
Dinner is so good I forget about the Fancys across the room. Ron regales me with tales from the trenches of retail and has me howling over an incident with a woman who wanted to return a tennis racket because she said it didn’t improve her game.
“How long had she been using it?”
“About a year.” Ron shakes his head. “The grip was worn down and everything. She threatened to call the Better Business Bureau if I didn’t give her a refund.”
“So what did you do?”
“I told her this wasn’t Costco and that there was no proof she had even bought the racket at our store, but I’d be happy to sell her a new one with a forty percent discount.”
“That was generous.”
“What are you going to do? Even a bad customer is still a customer.”
I drain my wineglass and sigh contentedly.
“Thank you, my darling, for this do-over dinner. I love you so very much.”
Ron grins. “Now, that’s the booze talking, but you are so very welcome.”
As we stand to leave, I look around to see that we are just about the last table in the restaurant. I love when that happens. You get into a cocoon of conversation and the entire world disappears around you.
Ron heads to the bathroom and I check my phone. There’s a text from Don.
???
I get a tight feeling in my stomach. How could I even think about having coffee with another man after such an amazing evening with my husband? He doesn’t deserve that. I text back immediately.
Nope. Sorry. Very busy day.
I put the phone back in my purse as Ron joins me.
“Everything okay at home?” he asks, assuming I was checking in on Max. Jesus, strike two. I really need to get my head out of my ass.
I nod to him and can only hope I’m right.
* * *
Ron has a tight hold on me as we walk through the parking lot. Half a bottle of wine is a lot for me, and I’m a little unsteady. A car pulls up beside us.
“We meet again.” Kim Fancy’s voice floats from inside a silver Mercedes. “We saw you guys in the restaurant, but you seemed so deep in conversation that we didn’t want to disturb you.”
“We’re celebrating Scoundrel’s Night,” I say with a slight slur. “How ’bout you?”
I hear a snort from the dashing David, who is behind the wheel.
“Nice,” he says to Ron appreciatively.
“I don’t get it.” Kim sounds annoyed.
Ron decides to explain.
“We’re celebrating Valentine’s a day early. Same with you guys?”
Kim Fancy lets out a very un-Fancy-like guffaw.
“God, no. Tomorrow I expect to be going somewhere much nicer than this place.”
And once again I’m reminded why I don’t like Kim Fancy.
15
* * *
To: Miss Ward’s Class
From: AChang
Date: 2/20
Subject: Class trip
Hello, parents,
I’m sorry to interrupt your week-long celebration of Mr. Lincoln’s birthday, but I have not yet heard from any of you regarding chaperoning the class trip to the Underground Railroad Museum on February 28. I have, however, heard from many of you about the absence of a Valentine’s party in the classroom. Miss Ward, who does not like to celebrate Valentine’s Day, was not in favor of a party. I’m sure you parents were more disappointed than the children.
Anyway, I would like to know who is volunteering for the class trip. Even if you have been on a previous class trip, you can volunteer again.
Thank you,
Asami
* * *
I’m finding Asami’s class mom emails more and more intriguing. She obviously caught shit for not having a Valentine’s Day party. I knew it was never going to happen, given Miss Ward’s aversion to “Hallmark holidays.” But seeing her beg for volunteers (oh yes, I would say opening it up to me and Peetsa is her way of begging) is interesting. I think Asami is learning the hard way that (creds to the great Erma Bombeck) the grass is always greener over the septic tank. She will get no more grief from me. She is clearly getting enough from everyone else. Looks like karma found its target after all.
* * *
I can barely look at Garth as we work out on Monday. I know, and he knows I know, and neither of us has said anything. It’s very distracting, picturing Garth naked and sweaty on top of Nina. I blanch for the fiftieth time in the past hour and try to keep my focus on the task at hand, which is using all my body weight to try and push Garth over.
“Come on Jen, push! Push me like you hate me!”
That’s it. I double over laughing. I can’t help myself.
“Is that how you sweet-talked Nina?” I’m panting and laughing at the same time.
Garth gives me a pensive look. “Why, yes, it was, but I said it with a growl. It’s pretty sexy when I growl.”
I stand up and hug him—for the first time, I think. “I’m guessing it must be.”
I grab a towel from the nearby dirty laundry basket and wipe off my face and arms.
“I’m really happy for you guys. It’s a big move for Nina.”
“For me, too,” Garth says, and his sincerity makes me want to know more.
“When was the last time you had a girlfriend?”
“A girlfriend? Probably ten years.”
“That’s quite a dry spell.” Have I mentioned I enjoy stating the obvious?
Garth laughs. “That’s putting it mildly. But it wasn’t exactly dry. I kept company with some very nice ladies over the years.”
I guess that’s his polite way of saying he slept around, which doesn’t sit well with me at all.
“I hope that’s not what Nina is.”
I can see the surprise register on his face.
“I don’t know what she is yet. But I know I like her very much and I’m pretty sure she likes me.”
I chew my cheek and debate whether I should say more or shut up. Sadly, saying more wins out.
“Well, you should know that she hasn’t ‘kept company’”—I make air quotes—“with anyone since Sid left, so, whatever your feelings are, please keep that in mind.”
And then I see it in his eyes. I have managed to piss off the nicest guy in the world.
He takes a deep breath.
“Jen, I know Nina is your best friend, but I think you should just keep out of it, at least until we figure it out.” He turns and starts putting equipment away.
Over his shoulder, he mumbles, “I think we’re done for the day.”
I really don’t like the way this is playing out.
“Garth, wait.” I’m not sure what I want to say,
but I don’t want to leave it like this. I need to lighten things up.
“I’ll kick your ass if you hurt her.” I smirk.
He smiles and shrugs. “And what happens if she hurts me?”
Since that hasn’t even occurred to me, I don’t have a ready answer, so I say the first thing that pops in my head.
“Then she’ll be the one getting the ass kicking.”
* * *
Garth and I head upstairs and say good-bye. I walk to the kitchen for some water and do a double take when I see Vivs sitting at the table playing cards with Max.
“Aren’t you supposed to be in New York?” I know she and Raj had planned a romantic getaway to the Big Apple. Well, actually New Jersey, where Raj has an uncle who lives in Teaneck. But they had plans to hang out in the Village with some friends.
“Don’t ask,” Vivs sing-songs. She slaps a card down and yells, “Uno!”
Max jumps up from his chair “No, Sissy! Not gonna happen.” And he slams down a multicolored card. “I’m changing it to red! Take that, sucka!”
“Whoa! Excuse me, what did you say?” I seriously can’t believe that just came out of Max’s mouth.
“I said, ‘Take that, sucka,’” he repeats, with a little less enthusiasm. “Graydon says it all the time.”
“Well, just because Graydon says it doesn’t mean you can. It’s just not a nice thing to say to someone.” I consider calling Shirleen to share this little nugget about her perfect son. Maybe later. I turn to Vivs. “How did you get here?”
“I drove with Laura.”
“She’s here too?” I can’t remember the last time the girls were home for Presidents’ Week.
Vivs puts down her final card. “Red Maxazillion!” she yells, and then whispers, “Take that, sucka.”
Max giggles and starts gathering up the cards. I give Vivs a disapproving scowl.
“So where’s Laura, upstairs?”
“She’s at Town Hall helping this guy set up for his show tonight.” Vivs tosses this at me as though I should already know. I’m so not in the mood for this.
“What guy? What show? You girls think you tell me things, but you don’t. And why aren’t you in New York?”
Vivs sighs and gives me her “I’m barely tolerating you” look.
Class Mom Page 15