Charlotte edged toward Tabitha. “Isn’t this an incredibly dangerous thing to do? Fire can get out of hand so quickly and I don’t think we should by instructing kids how to play with it.”
Tabitha flicked her eyes toward the ceiling. “Let Rob do his thing,” she whispered.
“Seriously? You think this is a good idea?”
“Oh, this is just Rob’s rather dramatic lead in to tell the kids about fire safety.”
“By playing with fire?”
“It got their attention, didn’t it?” She folded her arms. “On second thought, this might be just one of his magic tricks. But the kids are loving it, so, either way.”
Just then, Cowboy Rob lit a match. Pwoof. A sound like a blowtorch and then Cowboy Rob was smacking his wallet against his pants. His eyes were crossed and his tongue hung out. The crowd roared with laughter, except for two toddlers near the front who burst into tears.
Charlotte gave a tiny gasp.
“God, Charlotte,” Tabitha said. “It’s fine. He does stuff like this all the time. You really are so uptight. I mean, if these parents don’t like what we do with their kids all day, they can stay home and raise them themselves. Everyone’s got to have a little fun.”
Finally, the fire was out. “Fire is fun!” Cowboy Rob yelled, “But you should never play with it. And that’s all for your science lesson today.” He sunk into a deep bow, while the kids cheered or shrieked or wailed. And then he said, “Okay, it’s naptime. Everybody get out your blankets and go to sleep!”
***
While the children pretended to snooze on their bedrolls, Charlotte huddled in the office with Tabitha to help her sort out the disarray and mayhem that was the school’s financial reports.
“So…you do these fire demonstrations often?” Charlotte asked, trying to sound offhand as she totaled a series of tuition payments.
“Sure,” Tabitha responded.
“I really think you should reconsider them.” Her heart pounded in her ears. How she hated confrontation.
“You mentioned that already, Charlotte. And, you know, if you don’t like the way I run my school…”
“I just think you might need to think of this from a parent’s perspective.”
“Do you know what, Charlotte? You are uncool. Seriously uncool.”
Charlotte realized, all at once, that Tabitha was absolutely right. Her face flushed. All the time. At the slightest provocation. If anything went the least bit wrong, she would be sweating hot and red-faced. When she exercised, her complexion grew to a brighter and brighter shade of scarlet while Leopold’s stayed pale and pasty.
Tabitha and Cowboy Rob, they probably stayed nice and cool all day long, too. They could even play with fire and not sweat. They worried about nothing.
She felt a trickle drip down from her armpit. Yep, she was very uncool.
***
“Whatcha got there, Maddox?” Charlotte asked that evening. She was waiting for Leopold’s Confidence Prescription to begin, so it could hurry up and end.
Maddox was digging into a bowl of orange elbow noodles. He looked at her like she had just fallen off the turnip truck. “Mac and Roni,” he said.
“Yum.” And so the tainting continues, Charlotte thought.
“Gracie made it for me. Want a bite?”
“No, thank you, but you are a generous and kind boy.”
He worked for a moment to spear a macaroni noodle on each tine of his fork. Then he looked up. “Aunt Charlotte,” he began. “Do you ever wish you had a moustache?”
She smiled and leaned over toward him. “No. I don’t think I’ve ever wished I had a moustache. Why? Do you wish you had a moustache?”
“All the time.” he said. “I would look good in a moustache. And so would you, even though you are a girl.” He pumped his head down once, in a show of finality.
“What do you think it would feel like to have a moustache?” Charlotte asked.
He paused a moment and looked into his macaroni bowl. “I don’t know.”
“Would it be… slimy?”
“No!” he shook his head and smiled. “Well, if you had boogers…”
“Would it be…smooth?”
“Yep.” He plunged his fork into the bowl once more. “And it would be cool. People who have moustaches are cool. That’s why you should have one Aunt Charlotte. Because you are coo-ool.”
She smiled and chuckled to herself. Take that, Tabitha, she thought.
“You look pretty,” Maddox said, then, studying her face and chewing.
“Thanks.”
“You have black junk on your eyes. Like mama does.”
“Yes. I put on some makeup.”
“It looks lovely. Like mama does.”
Charlotte smiled.
“When you cry, does it get all over the place? Because it does when mama cries.”
“You know, Maddox, I don’t wear it enough to know. Plus I don’t cry in public.”
“You don’t?”
“No.”
“Well, where do you cry then?”
In the pantry, alone, cuddling the peanut butter, she thought. “In private, I guess,” she said.
“Oh.”
“Aunt Charlotte?”
“Yes, Maddox?”
“What happened to you and Uncle Caleb?” His head tilted to the side. “Did you mess up the love?”
Her breath caught. Maybe. Someone did.
She thought for a moment and then she smiled and asked, “Maddox, are you trying to make my eye makeup run?”
He shook his head, suddenly earnest. “It’s just mama said you and Uncle Caleb aren’t living together anymore, and I know that means someone has messed up the love.”
“Something sure got messed up, I guess. Yes.”
“I like him anyways. Aunt Charlotte. If that’s worth anything to you.”
“Thanks, Maddox. I’ll tell him that.”
“You still talk to him?’
“Of course.”
“That’s good. That means the love isn’t too messed up.”
Maxwell shuffled into the dining room just then. “Some guy is pulling up,” he said. “He has a real fancy car and the top is down.”
Already? Leopold was early. And Charlotte didn’t want the girls to see him. That would require far too much explaining. She knew it wasn’t a date, but she was rather dressed up and she didn’t want them thinking anything weird. Or talking to Caleb about it. She gave Maddox and Maxwell each a quick kiss on the head and hurried to the front door. The top was down? She grabbed a fleece sweatshirt from the hook in the foyer on her way out, the first thing she could grab. It didn’t match her summery pantsuit, but it would have to do. “Girls, I’m going out for a bit…You’re in charge of the boys!”
Then she charged out toward Leopold, before he could make it the door. She didn’t even know what kind of little roadster this was, but the sight of it brought to mind one of her dad’s favorite jokes: “What’s the difference between a sports car and a porcupine?” he would say. “With a porcupine, the prick is on the outside.” And then he’d laugh and actually slap his knee. Her dad never did trust a guy unless he had a few dents in his truck.
“I thought I told you to wear a dress.” Leopold said, standing by the passenger side door. He was wearing a gunmetal gray suit and a lavender tie. The whole ensemble had a bit of sheen.
“I don’t like to wear dresses,” she said in her most confident voice as he opened the door for her, and she slid down, down into the car. By the time she reached bottom, she felt like she was sitting four inches off the pavement.
Leopold crossed to the driver’s side and dropped into his own seat. “Everyone likes to wear dresses,” he said.
“I don’t.”
“I do not believe you.”
“Do you like to wear dresses?”
He shook his head. “You try to be humorous when you are nervous. But this is serious. You should have on a dress.”
“Do you
want to try this again? Because you are being kind of mean and scary again.”
He shrugged and grimaced at her.
“Is it time for your yam or something?” she asked, but he didn’t answer. “You missed this, in the shower,” she said, wiping away a dollop of shaving cream, just over his right ear. She held it out to him, so he could see.
Now what was she going to do with it? If she were in the minivan, she would have wiped it under the seat. Very uncool, she thought to herself. She massaged it into her fingers until it disappeared.
He glanced over at her, and yanked the leather gearshift backward. Then he cleared his throat. “You look nice,” he said, finally.
“And there it is. I knew you had it in you.” She turned to wink at him, but his attention was turned to the road. “Some Confidence Coach you are.”
“I was looking forward to seeing you in a dress. With one of those boob sling tops.”
She laughed. “I am not familiar with ‘boob sling tops.’”
“That might not be what they are called in your country.”
“I can’t imagine they would be called that in any country.”
“Dresses…you know what I am speaking about. With the…uh, with the cleavage showing. They are very sexy. And the high heels. See. You need to know you are sexy. And you need to dress sexy. That will help your confidence. What is that thing you are wearing? Is it even made for a woman?”
Actually, it was Caleb’s sweatshirt, but she wasn’t going to tell him that. She loved borrowing his huge hoodies. She would always get him one for Christmas and then she usually ended up commandeering it at some point during the year. This one, she’d had for a decade. It was her favorite. “I just thought I might be cold on the drive,” she said. “Don’t worry. I won’t wear it inside the restaurant.”
He frowned at her.
“But, look. I put black junk on my eyes, and…” She wiggled her finger behind the dangling earrings she had chosen. “I accessorized.”
He sighed.
“Clearly, you don’t know what a big deal it is for me to accessorize. It doesn’t happen. Ever.”
“Okay, Yes. I am highly honored.” Still he did not look at her.
He stopped the car along Second Street and slid it parallel to the other cars in one practiced swoop. She wriggled out of the sweatshirt before he opened the door on her side, and then he pulled her from the car’s depths.
Now that she saw the restaurant, she did wish that she had worn heels and not these floppy ballet flats. It was a historic brick building, the entry flanked by stone columns wrapped in spiraling white twinkle lights. “Arturo’s” was spelled in calligraphic script across the masonry.
Leopold motioned for her to lead as they entered. The tinkle of laughter floated from the bar and a hostess with reflective blonde hair minced up to them. She put her arm straight on Leopold’s bicep. “Leopold! So wonderful to see you this evening,” she said, in an accent that matched his own, and he reached out his hand to her. She placed her fingertips in his palm and he swept it to his lips. Then he turned and floated his hand on Charlotte’s lower back, sending tiny shivers down her legs and a warm fluttery feeling in the pit of her stomach that quite surprised and unnerved her. She felt conspicuous suddenly, like she was way too large. Was it the formality of the restaurant? The fact that she may very well be on a date, without her husband?
Mirror Hair turned to Charlotte. “I don’t think we have had the pleasure.” She cupped her hand and held out her fingers, and so Charlotte took her hand, as well, completely unsure what to do. The woman just grinned and swooped in close, as though for a kiss. Ah, one of these European air kisses, Charlotte thought, so she made a smacking sound the way she had seen in movies, “Mwah,” but then she felt the woman’s lips on her face. Was she supposed to kiss, too? Was she messing this up? And then the woman went to do the other side. Oh, good God. What on earth? How awkward. “Mwah,” she said again, and Charlotte felt her face flush. She wished she had worn a black top. Or kept Caleb’s sweatshirt on. This light blue blouse would have pit stains on it in a moment. Tabitha’s voice rang through her mind, “You are so uncool, Charlotte.”
Mirror Hair and Leopold were standing back and looking at her and saying something to one another in Polish— she could only imagine what—and then Mirror Hair showed them to their table.
Charlotte took a deep breath. She had left the house in such a hurry that she hadn’t used the bathroom, and she really needed to. Really, really. But she could wait. Because after the air kiss fiasco, she didn’t want to ask Mirror Hair where it was. She could never remember what to say in a place like this. Was it the restroom? The powder room? She knew it wasn’t the Little Girl’s Room. A whole table of ladies had burst into laughter when she had said that one time.
Okay, they were nearly at the table now. She would simply watch the other women in the restaurant to see where they excused themselves to, and then, once she and Leopold had ordered, she would excuse herself.
As they made their way through the restaurant, four or five other patrons raised their glasses to Leopold and their eyebrows at her. What were they assuming? Oh goodness. She needed a cocktail. What should she order? Would they order wine with dinner? Or was Leopold more of a beer man?
Mirror Hair pulled out a chair for Charlotte and waited for her to settle herself. Then she unfurled a carefully folded napkin and spread it across her lap before handing her a leather bound menu. She did the same for Leopold, smiling at him warmly and rubbing his back. Was she a client of his, as well? Before the night was through, she vowed, she would work up the nerve to ask Leopold about this other rumored business of his.
A woman with a swingy brown ponytail, ample breasts and long feathery earrings approached the table. Her lips were red and full and Charlotte had a vision just then. This woman and Caleb. It was she. From the office. It couldn’t be. She shook her head. Caleb was here for the summer to get her back. To woo her. He wouldn’t have brought his girlfriend. Would he? Were they still together? Was he taking her for a fool? Her stomach flopped and she felt sick.
“Anything from the bar this evening?” the woman was asking.
“Ha! You must be new here.” Leopold chuckled in a choking, halting way. “I do not drink alcohol. It is poison.”
The woman dipped her chin, unfazed. She turned to Charlotte. The woman didn’t seem to recognize her, but it was she. It had to be. “And for you?” Charlotte’s heart was beating fast.
“Filtered water, please,” Leopold said, with a quick lift of his head. “With lemon, for us both.”
It arrived, moments later, in a chilled carafe, and, Leopold poured it carefully, first into her glass and then into his own. The sound of it, so crisp and pure. Wow. She really needed to pee. She looked up. Surely the ladies room was near the bar. That’s where it always was, right? She would just watch for another moment to see if she could see another woman walking that direction. She just needed to calm down and take a sip of water. She raised the glass to her mouth and took a sip. And that’s when she saw him. Caleb. Right there at the bar. Talking to that waitress. It was her. She was sure of it now.
As soon as Charlotte saw him, she choked a bit and then she tried to duck her head, so he wouldn’t see her and when she did so, the water rushed down her windpipe. She tried to be subtle, but the panic got the best of her. Her arms began to flail about.
“Oh, ha, I understand,” Leopold said, resting his menu on the table and leaning back. “For me, alcohol is poison. For you, water is the poison. Funny, Charlotte. Being poisoned by the water now?”
She shook her head and grabbed around her throat. Leave it to her to drown in a cup of water. A mere sip. She was trying desperately not to make a commotion, but, also, she was trying not to die.
Leopold jolted back from the table. His chair scraped and squeaked across the hardwood and the restaurant went silent. Titters. A gasp or two.
“Do you need the Heineken remover?” he was saying.
God. He really had something against beer.
Oh! The Heimlich maneuver. She nodded yes, still gripping at her throat, but she didn’t really know what she needed. Was she drowning, choking, what? And then Leopold was standing behind her and he was grabbing at her, but he grabbed too low. Right on her bladder. She knew it instantly, and when he did, water squirted out of her mouth, and, simultaneously, she felt a warm trickle down her leg. She tried to motion Leopold to stop. That she was okay know. But he kept squeezing and so she kept right on peeing.
Someone began to clap, then, and all at once the restaurant was clapping and people were slapping Leopold on the back and Charlotte sank into her seat, not knowing what else to do.
She had just peed in the nicest restaurant in town. Thank the Lord she hadn’t worn a dress.
Had Leopold noticed?
He was smiling as he sank back into his own chair. He shook his head at her. “Own it, Charlotte,” he said. “You just looked death right in the head, and you beat it. That is what all of these people are noticing. Not the dribble on your chin.”
Okay. He didn’t mention the dribble anywhere else. Maybe he hadn’t seen. Still, her face burned hot. “Can we go somewhere else?”
“Oh, no way. Are you joking with me? I am the hero here.”
The waitress came over and began to stroke Charlotte’s back. It was all she could do not to push her hand away. Not to stand up and walk out. The woman’s voice was soft and kind. Her breasts were so large, the real kind. Caleb probably didn’t have any kind of issue with those. She felt sick. “I’ll give you a few more minutes to look over the menu.” A maitre’d came by to offer them a new table, but, not wanting to stand up just then, Charlotte shook her head no. “Very well,” he said, and he snapped his fingers. A young man came over with a fresh rag and daubed at her puddle of spit on the table.
Charlotte glanced back to where she had seen Caleb. He was gone. She couldn’t blame him. He wouldn’t want to be spotted. There. With his girlfriend.
That’s when Leopold’s chest began to shake. He was laughing in great, rolling snorts. “So, now that the shock has worn off, Miss Charlotte, you have to admit this was funny. This was…how do you say? Hilarious.”
Shy Charlotte’s Brand New Juju (Romantic Comedy) Page 11