Shy Charlotte’s Brand New Juju (Romantic Comedy)

by Bethany Bloom

  “Tony Giordano sent me. I was under the impression he spoke with you.”

  “Oh. Grandpa.” She smiled to reveal two deep dimples, just as she managed, finally, to swing the front door open. “I’m Tabitha. And I’m in charge.” Parents and children were beginning to pull into the lot, and Tabitha motioned Charlotte to enter, along with the day’s tiny charges, most of whom hopped and skipped inside. All except one blond boy who stood beyond the door, clutching the thigh of his mother and sobbing.

  “We do this every day with this kid,” Tabitha-Who-Was-in-Charge said. “With some of the more difficult drop-offs, we have the kids shove their parents out the door. It really empowers them. Makes them feel like, you know, ‘Get out of here, mom!’”

  “And that works?”

  “Mostly, yes.”

  “And this child? There, at the door?”

  “He’s a tough one. Mom is a stay at home mom.” Tabitha rolled her eyes. “So he’s only here once a week. It makes it really hard on us. We like the kids to be here at least two days a week. And, of course, it’s best if they are full time.”

  “Huh.”

  “None of us can get that kid to come in without a fight. It’s rotten. I dread the day he comes.”

  “Mind if I give it a try?”

  “Be my guest.”

  Charlotte went to stand next to him. She knelt down and was careful not to look at him too directly. If there was anything she had learned from parenting her girls, it was how to talk to a shy kid.

  When Charlotte introduced herself, the little boy burrowed deeper into his mother’s legs.

  “You know,” his mother said, “sometimes I just want to take him back home with me. But Tabitha says I’ll really mess him up if I do that. That he’ll never want to go to school and stay.”

  Charlotte straightened up to face her.

  “It’s just…” the mother continued, her palm stroking her son’s head, “his dad is going through some health problems right now, and I think he’s kind of confused and scared and I just feel like my boy needs me right now. And,” she paused and blinked twice, fast, “And I don’t know why I’m telling you all of this.”

  As Charlotte looked into the mother’s eyes, she felt as though she were stepping back in time, dropping off her girls at the babysitter’s house. She hadn’t done it often, but, each time, she felt a clenching inside, an ambivalence that made her want to turn and run.

  “It just breaks my heart to leave him,” the mother was saying. “But, I know, Tabitha already told me, it’s not about me. It’s about what’s easiest for my son.”

  In this case, Charlotte thought, it seemed to be about what was easiest for Tabitha. She took a deep breath and spoke softly, “I’ve only just begun working here.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yes. Literally three minutes ago. But if you need to take your child home with you today, you need to do that. He’ll be okay.”

  “I’m not going to mess him up?”

  “Most certainly not.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.” Charlotte took a deep breath and then she said, “Listen. Sometimes we have to do things differently than the way everyone wants us to. Differently than the way everyone tells us to do them. He’s your son, and he is going to be with you for the rest of your life, and you know what should be done right now. Today. You know him better than anyone. Even...”She winked, “better than Tabitha.”

  “Tabitha is going to be mad if I take him right now. Outstandingly mad.”

  “I’ll break it to her. I’ll explain. You just do what you need to do.”

  Charlotte leaned down once again, to speak with the boy, who was staring up at her with his nut brown eyes. “We’d love to have you join us today,” she said, “But you are going to make that decision with your mom.”

  And then Charlotte put her hand on the mother’s arm, gave it a squeeze, and walked away, into one of the classrooms. When she turned again, the two were gone.

  Where had all of those words come from? She all of a sudden knew what she wanted to say, just by looking at that mother’s poor confused face. It was what she wished someone had told her once. She felt a lift in her chest about it all, but the fact remained that she had been in this purply little preschool fewer than five minutes and had probably already cost them a client. Tony Giordano didn’t know what the hell he was talking about, thinking she would be perfect for this.

  Tabitha poked Charlotte on the shoulder with her index finger. “They are still going to have to pay, you know,” she said, “For the day. Did you explain that to her? We don’t give discounts for bratty kids. We should make them pay more.” She poked at her again. “So when that phone call comes in—when that mom wants to know why her bill was for the full amount—I’ll make sure to have you field that call.”

  “Well, okay.”

  “Also, just so you know…We try never to treat any child like they are special,” Tabitha said, “Because then they’ll come to expect that kind of treatment.”

  It was then that Charlotte decided to spend her time interacting with the kids, and not the other teachers. She sat in the corner and built blocks and played rocket ship and pirates and read storybooks in a hushed voice.

  She had to admit, the day slid by and, before she knew it, it was time to go, which is when Tabitha said, “If you come back to work with us, you are going to need to be smarter. Otherwise, you’ll never last.”

  “Okay.” Was she getting fired or reprimanded?

  “I mean, you let that snotty kid put his nose right on your neck. You are going to get sick.”

  “Oh, Bryce? He just needed someone to snuggle with for a minute.”

  “You’ll learn. Soon enough. We stay away from the ones that are leaking fluid.”

  Thirteen years as a mom had taught Charlotte it was the fluid leakers who needed you most of all. She nodded to Tabitha, just the same, and turned to go.

  ***

  Charlotte had rescheduled her session with Leopold for the early evening, after work. And when she arrived at the health club, she was surprised to see him waiting for her in the lobby. When he saw her, he grinned and thrust both palms in front of his body. What did he want? To smack her head? She pulled her lips tight and ducked a little.

  “Hey! High five,” he demanded.

  “What?”

  “Give me a high five, Miss Charlotte MacDougall.”

  “Okay.” This was sure a new side of Leopold. She hesitated and then slapped at his hands.

  “You made it.”

  “To what?”

  “To session four.”

  “Okay. Is that good?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh, good.”

  “These first three sessions, I was observing how you handled intimidation.”

  “Oh.”

  “You handle it not so well.”

  “Oh.”

  “Terrible.”

  “Oh.”

  “Could you not tell that I was trying to intimidate you?”

  “Well…I could tell that you were succeeding.” And there went that nervous, tittering laugh she hated.

  “I find I get excellent results with my clients in the first three sessions. I never made one pass out, though. That was a first.”A great booming laugh shot out of his mouth. Also, a bit of spittle. “So how did you like it when I was Mean and Scary Leopold?”

  “I liked it not so much.” She laughed at the way his eyes were bulging out at her now. This must have been what Slicky had been talking about when he said Leopold was a jerk at first. He had been trying to warn her, to tell her she was being tested.

  “I can still be mean and scary, so watch yourself.” Leopold laughed again. “The truth is, Miss Charlotte MacDougall, it is always good to be a little intimidating at the beginning. So you know to take me seriously.” He pointed his thumbs at his chest.

  “Right. “

  “You are too easy to intimidate. To scare.”

  “You
mentioned that.”

  “We work on that. I will give you advices. Do not worry.” He made a note on his clipboard. “While I am mean and scary, get up on the scale.”

  Ugh. She looked down at her feet. At least she had skinny feet.

  “Come on. Up.”

  And yep. It was as bad as she had thought. She was up a full three pounds.

  “Probably just the time of day,” he said. “Or you are gaining muscle mass and losing fat.” But he squinted at her waist, her arms, and the other parts that were not as skinny as her feet.

  Or it was all those Musclebars, she thought, but that was her little secret. They were easy to gobble down before workouts, on the way to the preschool, while lying in her bed. Working out, she found, made her so damn hungry.

  And Leopold, she had come to discover, had some food obsessions of his own. First, he ate black chia seeds by the tablespoonful between workouts, and sometimes they got stuck in his teeth and along his gums. In addition, at present, he was tremendously into yams.

  “The yam diet is easy peasy,” he explained to her, as the day’s workout drew to a close. “Every four hours, on the dot, you eat a yam.”

  “Like a sweet potato?”

  “No. A yam.” His voice lowered and took on a formal quality, as though he were reading from a brochure. “A wild yam. Wild yams contain thirty-four percent of your daily-recommended allowance of Vitamin C, forty percent of Vitamin B6, and twenty-six percent of potassium. Plus, they are a…how do you say?…complex carbohydrate, making them perfect for eating after workouts. At only 180 calories, they are delicious any time of day.”

  “You sound like a commercial.”

  “Well, I believe in yams. Wild yams.” he said.

  “What makes them wild?”

  “I don’t know. But they must be wild.”

  “So what do you put on them?”

  “Oh, nothing. I microwave them and eat them.” He scratched at his head. “You should try it, Miss Charlotte. I will tell Fiona to make sure you are eating wild yams.”

  “Okay.” Goodie.

  “So let us talk about why the scale is not moving down for you.”

  “Okay.”

  “Do you think this is the size you were meant to be?”

  How could she tell him she didn’t think she was so very overweight, seeing as how everyone else in this town thought she was?

  “Miss Charlotte, are you happy with this size you are?” He prodded.

  She studied his face. Where was he going with this?

  “Because I think you could be very sexy at this size.”

  Sure, if the weight that was in her ass moved up to her boobs. Still, she appreciated him saying so, and she smiled.

  “You really are not so fat,” Leopold continued.

  “You know,” Charlotte said, quietly, “I actually don’t feel fat. Unless you tell me I am fat. Or my sister does. So thanks for saying that you don’t think I am.”

  “Why should it matter what we tell you about your body?”

  “I don’t know. It just does.”

  “You are too easy to intimidate. To manipulate.”

  “I’m starting to get that message.”

  “And, anyway, fat has nothing to do with how sexy you are,” Leopold said.

  “That’s kind of funny, coming from you.”

  “Why is it funny coming from me?”

  “Because you are my personal trainer.”

  His head snapped up and down. “And I am also your Confidence Coach. And it is a fact. You are volumptuous. That is all. All you need, to be sexier, is some confidence.”

  She wanted to correct him: The word is voluptuous, without the lump. But maybe it wasn’t, in her case, so, instead, she said, “Is that so?”

  “Sure. Look at me. I’m hid-e-ass.” He spit the word out. “With my big head. My bad skin. My small ears.” He lowered his voice. “Did you know that some people say I look like Shrek, the ogre?”

  She covered her mouth with her hand.

  “But also sexy, yes?”

  She had to admit that he was.

  “How do you explain this, if it weren’t simply my att-i-tude?” He punched each syllable.

  She shrugged.

  “And you. You actually are beautiful. Very ‘not hid-ee-ass.’ So you start to realize this, and you would be so sexy. Out-of-this-world sexy. Knock-my-jeans-off sexy.”

  “Knock my…what?”

  “Is that the expression?”

  “Oh. Knock my socks off. I think that’s what you mean.”

  He laughed. “Ah. Socks, jeans. Whatever. You would knock them straight off.” And he smiled at her.

  She laughed, nervously, and couldn’t help but wonder, was he trying to change her from a personal training client to a…nother kind of client. Ew. But she said, “So how do you recommend I start to realize it? All my sexiness?”

  “Just look at yourself. I don’t see how you can’t see it.”

  Charlotte looked down, as though she would be treated to a brand new sexy sight, one she didn’t know too well already. She sighed.

  “That man. Your ex... He really did a numeral on you, didn’t he?”

  A number? Had he done a number on her? “How do you know anything about him?” she asked.

  He brought his arm up to rub the back of his neck, exposing a rather magnificent bicep. “Fiona told me. All about him.”

  “Don’t tell me you go to Fiona to get your hair done, too.” She laughed.

  He ran his hand over his shiny baldness. “No. I do this myself in the shower. If you can believe it. I lather it all up. And then I shave it with my razor. Every morning, it’s smooth as a baby’s head.”

  “Butt.”

  “What?”

  “The expression is ‘smooth as a baby’s butt.’”

  “No, you cannot feel my butt. Not yet.” Leopold winked.

  She was alarmed to realize that she was kind of flirting with this man. Her mind raced to think of something to say that would her help change tracks. “So how do you know my sister?”

  “She was a….client once.”

  “Oh.” What kind of client? She wanted to ask but didn’t.

  “I helped her feel better about herself. But it was before.”

  “Before what?”

  “Before…what is her husband’s name?”

  “Kamal.”

  “Yes, it was before Kamal.”

  “So you were her Confidence Coach?”

  “Yes. Something like that.” He rolled his shoulders back. “Fiona says if I had not helped her, if I had not taught her a few things, she would never be married.”

  “Taught her a few things? Like how to swing a kettle bell?”

  He winked. “Something like that. Yes.”

  “So are these things you could teach me, as well?” The words were out before she realized they should have stayed inside.

  He slid his eyes over her face. “Are you sure you are ready?”

  “Nope.” She laughed.

  “How about we start with dinner. Tomorrow. Instead of our workout.”

  Ah. She had failed him as a personal training client, so he would now need to transition her into his other business.

  “I don’t know if that’s a good idea, actually,” she said.

  “It’s not an idea. It’s an order. From your confidence coach. It’s a…how do you say? A prescription. A confidence prescription.”

  “Oh, well…”

  “Don’t worry. All will be well. I will behave myself.”

  “Oh I know.” She blushed.

  “So, tomorrow then.”

  He took her hand in his. It was smooth, like his head, and, she thought, perhaps like his butt. He truly was the sexiest unattractive man she had ever met. And if he were a Confidence Coach, what would be the harm? It wasn’t a date. It was a continuation of their discussion, of her coaching. It was a prescription.

  As she turned to go, he hollered after her. “I will come to Fiona
’s at eight tomorrow to take you to a restaurant. Wear a dress.”

  ***

  The preschool smelled particularly earwaxy the next day, and her stomach rolled first one way and then another. Why was she so nervous for her evening with Leopold? Surely it would beat working out. These thoughts buzzed through her mind as a crisp voice erupted into the room’s dull roar. “Today, little ones, Cowboy Rob is going to show you some magic tricks.”

  Fiona’s boyfriend stood near the front of the room, stomping his Tony Lamas and clapping his hands for attention. Some days, he was Astronaut Rob, others Truck Driver Rob or Train Conductor Rob. Apparently, the cowboy getup was failing to capture the children’s attention as the other costumes had.

  The preschoolers continued to bustle and shove one another around the room. Theirs was a Montessori-style school, which, in Tabitha’s interpretation, simply meant that no one needed to follow directions, ever. They could wander from one “student-led learning adventure” to another, while Tabitha and her friends played on their phones in the corner.

  Cowboy Rob stepped it up. “Today’s magic show is going to be about…fire!”

  The kids turned then, all at once, and then they plopped into criss-cross-applesauce, right where they stood.

  While he had their attention, Cowboy Rob hurried to the miniature sink, and yanked open the overhead cupboard. He pulled out a tin of Zippo lighter fluid and plucked his wallet from his back pocket. Then he doused the leather billfold with the fluid.

  “What’s that, Cowboy Rob?” Jack Peters asked in a breathy voice.

  “It’s… fire juice.”

  Charlotte stood with her hand over her mouth. What on earth was she witnessing?

  “What’s…fire juice?” asked Tyler Smith.

  “It’s a special liquid that makes things catch fire.”

  The kids let out a collective series of gasps and sighs, wows and woahs.

  Cowboy Rob turned his wide-mouth grin to Charlotte and winked. “They act like they’ve never seen fire juice before.” He bounced on his heels and turned again to address the group. “I’ll bet you all even have some around your house. If your dad has a charcoal grill, then you have some, too. Not just like this, but something very similar.”