Lost in Love (The Miss Apple Pants series Book 2)

by Charlotte Roth

  ***

  Maddie was on her third drink when she yanked me aside in the living room. “So, moment of truth,” she said, giggling loudly in my ear.

  “Moment of truth? Oh no, please say you’re not leaving, like, tomorrow.” I had asked her three times already, but she had just waved me off as if to say, “Let’s just enjoy the moment.”

  “I am.” She threw her arm around my waist and pulled me down on the couch with her and I could feel the buzz from the alcohol even more now.

  “Really?”

  “Really.” She tossed her head back and looked up at the ceiling. “But what a fun night so far, huh?”

  I nodded my head against hers. “It’s never boring with you around.” I wanted to add that I had almost forgotten how much fun it always was to be around her, but I didn’t. Besides, into two hours of Mom’s pink mystery drinks and spicy appetizers, we were already back to being us—Maddie and me. As always, she was the life of the party, entertaining us with funny anecdotes and clever jokes, but there was also a sadness to her that I hadn’t seen before. Maybe it was the third-life separation anxiety that Mom had once described to me when I had asked her about the early years away from Grandma and Grandpa.

  “You see, when you’re a little kid, your mom and dad are your world, then you become a teenager and, even though you still love your parents and still need them, they are now an element of your safety net, just like a house, shoes, food, a ride to school. Then as you move on to college, or wherever it is your heart takes you, you leave them behind. Most coming-of-age books and movies usually glorify that moment, make it out to be the best time of your life, and even if it is quite exciting and liberating, it’s also scary and a little sad. I know we all have to grow up and move out, but it’s hard to suddenly be all alone. It’s like having separation anxiety all over again, in the third stage of life.” I had never thought about it like that, but when I had seen my friend’s photos of stuffed trunks and backseats as they headed off to college, I had felt relieved that I didn’t have to endure this third-life separation anxiety, as Mom called it. I had never felt that sadness. I had never felt alone. But lately I had felt another kind of loneliness. I was missing another kind of love—the love you can’t get from your mom or dad, or even your child, no matter how much love there is between you. I was missing a romantic love.

  “I really wish I could stay.” Maddie’s voice brought me back to the moment, with loud music and Mom’s even louder singing.

  “But why so early?”

  “That’s just how it panned out. I didn’t plan this. It was a last-minute surprise. And when Thomas booked the plane ticket, I just—”

  “—Wait, Thomas booked it?” Thomas arranged this? We both looked up at Thomas. He was setting the dinner table with Mrs. Rock. It was like watching an episode of Martha and Snoop’s Potluck dinners. She was re-arranging every single item he placed on the table. He was re-arranging his face, suppressing a few heavy eyerolls, I was sure.

  “He did, with the help of your mom. He said your dad already spoiled the whole surprise and he, they wanted to surprise you. Voila.” She raised her glass and looked at me. “Fast forward a week and I’m sitting right here. He said he knew how much you had looked forward to our two-man belated birthday party in June, but here I am instead, thanks to Thomas. Pretty fucking adorable if you ask me.”

  “Uh-huh,” I muttered, staring at the back of Thomas’s neck as he reached for the dinner plates from the upper cabinets. I was almost speechless. I couldn’t believe he had gone through all this trouble for me. To make me a surprise birthday. It was “pretty fucking adorable.”

  “Speaking of… So, is that woman coming or not? That should be interesting.”

  “Who?”

  “Jennifer—Thomas’s girlfriend—the crazy dog-lady with the Pet’a’cure,” she added, clearly mocking the name, and I guess this was how I had delivered it to her myself—including a link to the very pink and fuzzy dog parlor located on Front Street.

  “She might come later, is what I heard, but I’m not sure. I think she’s busy with the salon.” Just thinking about that silly name again prompted an eye roll from both of us.

  “Oh. Shame. I would have loved to see her, in real life.” Of course, we had already stalked her on Facebook, and after flipping through her long list of profile pictures, Maddie had declared that Jennifer was only after one thing—to get hitched. “It’s so clear by the way she poses, and the pictures and desperate posts she puts on there about relationship advice, pretty flower arrangements and bachelorette parties … Hello! It’s like she’s building up to that moment when he puts a ring on it. On a beach, “Beneath my wings” spilling from some crappy speaker, for crying out loud. I know these types of women. All they ever care about is getting married.”

  We had then moved on to Maddie’s latest news on her own love life, leaving Jennifer and her “desperate posts” behind, but it had left me wondering whether she was right. Was it really that serious between them? Would he put a ring on her tanned finger one day? Would she become Eleanor’s stepmom? I looked over at Eleanor, taking turns dancing with Ava and Alfred, and I felt a small flutter in my stomach.

  “You have a such a fucked-up life, but in a good way,” Maddie said a little too loudly, looking at Ava and Alfred too.

  “Um, thanks, I guess.”

  “No, I mean it. Look around you. You’re surrounded by so much love. It’s a constellation weird as fuck, but it seems to work. Even that oddball Mrs. Rock seems to have adopted the Jensen family’s ways.” We watched Mrs. Rock as she, once again, re-arranged the plate Thomas had just sat down. For a moment, Thomas looked across the room and smiled at us. “It’s like having freaking Mary Poppins over for dinner,” I’m pretty sure he mouthed, which made me laugh.

  “What did he say?”

  “He said, ‘It’s like having freaking Mary Poppins over for dinner.’”

  “Wow, you got all that out of this.” She opened her mouth and pretended to mouth something to me. “You two must know each other pretty well,” she observed, a small hint of annoyance in her voice.

  “Jealous?” I teased.

  “Of course! We used to finish each other’s sentences. And now you’re doing it with him.” She nodded in Thomas’s direction. “And he’s cute as fuck.”

  “He is,” I agreed, surprised by my own blunt admission.

  Maddie scooted to the edge of the couch and looked at me, her eyebrows knitted together. “So how long have you had a crush?”

  “A crush?”

  “Yes, on Thomas.” She pointed her empty glass at him.

  “No, it’s not like that.”

  “No?” Her eyebrows went from knitted to raised in a flash. “Well, the way you two look at each other…” she clicked her tongue and peeked at Thomas. “And thanks, by the way, for never telling me any of this when we were spying on his girlfriend, looking at pictures of her and them together. But, I should have put two and two together. Who obsesses about someone else’s girlfriend just because he’s a friend of the family or because she babysits his daughter from time to time? So, cough it up, sista.” She crossed her arms over her cute Free People dress and nodded.

  “Well, I admit I did have like a child-like crush on him, in the past, when I first met him. But that was, I think, mostly because of the letters. He was like a fantasy person, and I was infatuated by him is all. It was like having a crush on one of the Jonas brothers.”

  “So?”

  “At least the Jonas brothers are almost my age—give or take. Thomas is old enough to be my dad.”

  “Hardly. He would have been really, really young and—”

  “—That was me. That is me.” I pointed demonstratively over at Alfred, who had now moved over to Martha’s lap, playing peekaboo with her colorful scarf.

  “Well, what was it Martha just said out on the porch? ‘Age is just a number’? Maybe she was trying to tell you something.” She made a move to get up.


  “Like what?”

  “Like just live and not worry about the rest. Remember Aunt Sophie?”

  “The one who ran off with that young Bohemian dancer?”

  “He was a yoga instructor and like fifteen years younger, but she didn’t care.”

  “Didn’t she commit suicide a few years later?”

  “That’s beside the point. It can be done. Come on now. We need more booze.” She stood up and held out her hand.

  “Okay, let me ask you this then: Would you have dated Mr. Lee back when he was our ALS teacher, even though we all agreed he was sexy as hell?”

  “Hell no.”

  I grabbed her hand and rose to my feet slowly. “That’s exactly what I mean. It’s off limits. He is off limits and well, either way, he has a girlfriend now and they are going to Europe together.”

  “We sure are,” Mrs. Rock’s raspy voice said right behind my back, startling me so hard I bumped my head into Maddie’s pointy shoulder.

  “The fu—”

  “And I can’t wait. Just a few more days.” Mrs. Rock plopped down on the couch and instantly got swallowed by the soft cushions. “Oops.” She squinted at me with Skittles-sized eyes and then smiled. She looked tired, or maybe she’d just had a few more of Mom’s pink drinks. “I’m so happy we’re going to Europe together,” she said with a soft voice. “Did you know that the young gentleman, Thomas, is going too?” She pointed her little gnarled finger in Thomas’s direction. “Can’t we bring him in our little group? He can even be part of that Face board bulletin group you mentioned. He doesn’t know a thing about setting a table properly, but he’s delightfully funny and quite handsome, if I dare say so.” She looked up at me and Maddie again. “Or cute, as you young kids say.”

  “We think he’s very cute too but—” Maddie started.

  “Ooh, yeah that’s right,” Mrs. Rock murmured, “Eleanor is going to track down her, um boyfriend, Fritz.” She leaned back and closed her eyes.

  I wanted to tell her that he was not my boyfriend and that his name wasn’t Fritz, but she looked like was close to falling asleep, her chest moving slower and slower underneath the layers of gold necklaces.

  “Mrs. Rock?” I whispered.

  “Hmm,” she mumbled.

  “Never mind.” Carefully, I peeled off her fancy red glasses and placed them on the coffee table. “That’s us in like fifty years,” I whispered to Maddie, giggling.

  “Yes, that’s exactly what I’m talking about. We need to live a little before we die. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger … or makes you have more fun, right?” She waved her empty drinks glass in front of me.

  “I’m not so sure about that. I think Mom’s losing her grip on the ratio for these drinks. I have a weird metallic taste in my mouth. It might be the end of my twenty-first year before it’s even here. I might not wake up in the morning.”

  “You will. We will. Alive and well.”

  CHAPTER 9

  A tower of suitcases

  Maddie was right about one thing, and one thing only. On my actual twenty-first birthday, I woke up alive. But I was not well. My special birthday gift, as Dad would make fun of later, was my first-ever hangover, and I hoped it was my last one, too.

  I was not the only one with a hangover. When I made it to the kitchen, supporting my hands on the hallway walls all the fifteen steps there, I found Mom in her PJ’s mindlessly stirring her coffee, a blank stare on her face. When she heard my shuffled footsteps, she looked up, shielding her tired eyes from the morning sun.

  “Morning, hon. Happy real birthday,” she said with as much enthusiasm as she could muster. “Your head hurts, too?”

  I nodded slowly, trying to make as little movement as possible.

  “I think those drinks were toxic. Maybe it was the food coloring? You know I never touch stuff like that.” She took a sip of coffee, shrugging.

  “Maybe it was the alcohol,” I suggested, which in my long one-day as an alcohol consumer found more plausible.

  “Maybe. Sit.” She pushed a chair out with her feet. It made such a loud screeching sound that we both flinched.

  “Mom?” I plopped down on the offending chair and looked down at Mom’s cup.

  “Sorry. Was that chair always that loud?” We both stared at the chair.

  “Dunno.”

  “You want coffee?”

  “I don’t know if that would sit well with me right now.”

  “That bad?”

  I nodded. “I only had three drinks the entire evening. Maybe I’m just tired.”

  “Me too. Three drinks and I woke up at five. Not a good combo. Thank God for Dad. He took the kiddos in the stroller by the lake?”

  “They’re awake?”

  “It’s ten-thirty, hon.” She gave me a sideways glance.

  “You think I’m an irresponsible parent now?”

  “What?”

  “I mean, we did put Dad on pee-wee patrol and we did sing them their bedtime lullaby—”

  “—with amazing harmonies,” she interrupted, smiling at the memory of Maddie, Mom, and me singing “Goodnight, Sweetheart”—of course “Three Men and a Baby” style, Mom’s favorite version of it.

  “Yes, that was not pretty but, I mean, other than that I didn’t spend one single moment with them. They were pretty much entertained by El or Martha.”

  “They had fun and so did you, which is okay. It is okay for a mom to have a little fun for one night, to let loose. You’re still the best mom ever.”

  “And the most hungover mom ever.” I placed my forehead on the cool table and drew in a deep breath in attempt to hold back the vomit threating to emerge.

  “Well, I could contest you on that if I had the energy. I don’t.” She hmphed and took another sip.

  “Did Mrs. Rock get home safe last night? She fell asleep on the couch before dinner.”

  “She did. Dad took her home, right after he tucked the kids in. True saint, huh?”

  “I guess. She’s kinda awesome, huh?”

  “She sure is.”

  “Are you talking about me?” Maddie yelled all the way from my room. We heard feet dragging down the hallway, followed by a loud moan. “Morning, ladies.” Maddie was standing in the doorway, smiling. She looked even worse than me and Mom combined. Her hair was a bird’s nest, mascara smeared all the way down to her cheeks. “How did we get to bed last night?”

  “I tucked you in. You were as flexible as a bronze figure. How’s the head?”

  “I need coffee.”

  “Let me.” Cautiously, Mom rose to her feet. “Splash of milk, right?”

  “Yes, Auntie. You never forget a coffee, do you?”

  “Nope. A name maybe but never a face and a coffee.” Mom grabbed the big yellow “Rise and shine” cup from the upper cabinets and poured Maddie a big cup. “Milk, right there.” Mom nodded down at the porcelain cow.

  “Thanks.”

  “But you’d better drink up. Frank is taking you girls to the airport in…” Mom squinted up at the clock, “one and a half hours.”

  “Holy shit.”

  “Be happy the tods are not here. You would be charged a penny.” Mom looked over at me and winked.

  “One?” I scoffed. “Since she arrived yesterday, she owes the jar ten big ones at least.”

  “You and your effing swear jar. Who came up with that idea anyway?”

  “We did.” Mom and I said at the exact same time.

  Maddie blew over the hot coffee and rolled her big brown eyes at me. “Seriously?” she began, sounding like the teenager I had left behind in Hartford. “You cannot tell a girl not to swear when she has a hangover.” She took a long sip and put the cup down on the counter. “Okay, mother fuc... fruitcakes, let’s get this show on the road.”

  “Two pennies,” Mom and I said in unison.

  ***

  “Was that a fun night or what?” Maddie leaned her head against her duffel bag and looked up at the big screen with her flight number on
it. I couldn’t believe that she was already leaving, but I was still too nauseated to feel anything else. It was like I was numb.

  “No fun right now.” I looked down at the half-empty oversized bottle of Coke in my hand. When Dad had returned with two very loud and energized toddlers, he came bearing gifts, as he said. “Three Cokes and a bag of Cheetos.” We never had stuff like this in the house and when I had asked him why on earth he had bought a bag of toxic waste, he simply said “because.” When I had taken my first sip of ice-cold Coke, I knew why. Apparently, poison on poison was the cure for a hangover and my ice-cold Coke was slowly starting to work a little. At least I didn’t feel like throwing up anymore.

  “Can I tell you a secret?” Maddie said with her eyes closed. “This is what normal people our age do. We go out, get drunk, and have a hangover. Repeat.”

  “But why are people so stupid? I will never drink again.”

  She peeked at me with one eye. “And that’s what we all say, repeat. You’ll get used to it. It’s just because you skipped that whole period of your life. You went from, like, seventeen to a real grownup in nine months.”

  “That’s what Thomas said not too long ago an—”

  “—Oh shit.” Maddie rose to her feet quickly, knocking over the big duffel bag to the floor.

  “You gonna throw up?”

  “No, I mean shit as in I just remembered something about last night. I-I … I’m pretty sure I told Thomas about Jennifer last night.” She sat down on the duffel bag and unscrewed the cap on her Coke. “I think I might’ve told him that she was… Oh Fuck.” She buried her face in her hands and exhaled loudly.

  “What did you tell him?”

  “That, um, just what you and I talked about.” She looked up at me. Her face turned as white as the wrinkled t-shirt she was wearing. “You know… How, um, she’s obsessed about getting hitched and that we don’t really care for her that much. I might even have called her a desperate to-be housewife? Oh shit.” She got up again and started pacing the floor.