As soon as we got home, she was on the phone to her Lake Forest friends. I was only halfway through dinner preparations when she asked if she could take the car and hang out with Tressa until Hannah’s party started. I swallowed my disappointment that she didn’t want to hang out with me but told her I’d save her some dinner.
“Awesome. Thanks, Mom,” she said as she hurried to touch up her flawless makeup and try on a few different outfits before heading out the door. Paul had worked at the office today, so I had almost an hour after Stormy left until he came home. We had a nice dinner together, and then I worked on laundry. For more than twenty years, I had done a load of laundry almost every morning before work, but I’d managed to break the habit completely in a few weeks now that I didn’t have to keep myself busy while a child got ready for school. Hence, my Friday night was full of OxiClean and Tide while Paul watched the Spurs’ game on TV.
Around eight o’clock, I cocked my ear to the side—I was reading chapters of My Name Is Asher Lev between folding loads—and thought I heard my cell phone ringing. I was right, and hurried into the kitchen to dig my phone out of my purse, worried I wouldn’t get to it before the caller hung up or it went to voice mail. I didn’t recognize the number.
I pushed the talk button and lifted the phone to my ear in one motion. “This is Daisy.”
“Hi, Daisy. It’s Paige.”
It took me a few beats to remember who Paige was. “Oh, hi, Paige. How are you doing?”
“I’m okay,” she said. “My child care plans for Saturday fell through. I was wondering if your offer is still open . . .”
“Of course it is.” I said it so fast that it wasn’t until the words were out that I realized I’d said yes. In the same instant, I knew I was probably her last resort and wanted to make sure she didn’t know how surprised I was at my own quick response. “Bring the boys over—it will be fun.” The totally weird part was that it did sound fun. Must be the impending grandmother status opening up new horizons. I could use the practice.
I heard her let out a breath and felt even better about saying yes. How many times had I felt ready to explode with frustration when I honestly had no one to turn to for help?
“Thank you so much,” she said. “The office closes early on Saturdays, so I should be back no later than one thirty or two. You should have most of your day to yourself.”
I laughed at how surprised she seemed that I was willing to help. “Don’t worry about it, Paige. I’ve done the single mom thing. I remember what it was like.”
“Thank you. I owe you one big-time.”
We hung up and I consulted my planner. Shoot. Stormy and I were supposed to go shopping and then to lunch. This was the first weekend she’d come home, and I’d offered to watch my friend’s kids. Impressive mothering. I considered my options. I could call Paige back with my regrets, but I already suspected I was the bottom of the barrel for her. She’d probably have to call into work if I didn’t help her out. After a few more stressful minutes, I decided to ask Stormy what she thought. It was a risk because she might think I was blowing her off, but I texted her to call me ASAP.
A minute later, as I was pulling the last load out of the dryer, my phone rang. It was Stormy.
“Hi, sweetie,” I said when I answered it. I could hear music and teenage laughter in the background. “How’s the party?”
“Rockin’,” Stormy said simply. “What’s up?”
I explained the situation, ending with “It’s not a big deal either way. I can cancel with her, but I just wanted to ask what you thought.”
“Sure, totally do it. We can do shopping and stuff after they’re gone. And it will be good training for me to be the best aunt ever!”
I laughed, loving how naturally we were getting along. And I didn’t have to cancel with Paige. Nice.
“Can I stay at Tressa’s until one, though?”
“Sure,” I said without hesitation. Midnight was her typical curfew, but if she was willing to give up her Saturday, I could give her an extra hour.
“Awesome. Is there anything else?”
“Nope. Have a good time.”
“’Kay, bye.”
“Bye,” I said, feeling satisfied with the way things had turned out.
I told Paul about it as we got ready for bed. He didn’t say anything, but I sensed something was wrong. “Are you upset that I said I’d do it?” I asked.
“Well, it would have been nice if you’d asked me.”
I remembered that I’d already ditched out on our Huntington Beach plans for Stormy; now I was letting Paige’s kids take my time as well. “I’m sorry,” I said for something to fill the silence. “I thought you had your day all planned out, so it wouldn’t make a difference.”
“It’s okay,” he said, but I knew he was bugged. “Maybe I’ll go to the RV show in Garden Grove with Charlie. He’d mentioned it, and now that I won’t be spending the day with you, I could make that work.”
“I’m sorry,” I said again.
He shrugged. “No biggie.”
He went to bed around ten, and I stayed up, reading—this Asher book was harder to get into than the Kingsolver book had been for me—until Stormy came home. I hadn’t stayed up that late in months and simply gave her a hug good night and then locked up before going to bed. Paul was snoring softly, and I didn’t tell him to roll over, sure that I was tired enough that the noise wouldn’t keep me up. I was right; I slept like a rock. A rock whose husband was feeling dissed, but a rock all the same.
Chapter 16
Paige’s boys, Shawn and Nathan, were adorable. Shawn was seven and Nathan was three, and they walked in looking around as though this was a new and exciting adventure. Paige had brought some Legos and whispered that there was Play-Doh in the diaper bag if I allowed that kind of thing.
When she left, I had a moment of being completely intimidated by what I’d agreed to do, but Paul came to my rescue. He looked at the Legos, then at the boys and said, “Ever made a pirate ship out of those things?”
Oh, bless the saints that brought me that man.
For the next hour and a half, Paul and Shawn, mostly, worked on a pirate ship. Nathan had tried to participate, but wasn’t all that interested. I turned on the TV and finally found a kid show that caught his attention. He went back and forth between the Legos and the TV, but seemed perfectly content.
Instead of being overwhelmed by having these little people around, I found myself quite comfortable. I made lunch at eleven o’clock—peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and applesauce—and thanked Paul profusely for his help when he said he had to get going. Not long after Paul left, I was cutting the crusts off Nathan’s sandwich when Stormy emerged from her room. Her hair was a mess, and she hadn’t taken off her makeup from the night before. She slid into a seat at the table while both boys regarded her with curiosity.
“This is my daughter Stormy,” I told them.
“Your name is Stormy?” Shawn asked.
Stormy smiled at him with her black-smeared eyes. “Yep, pretty cool, huh?”
He seemed to consider that and then nodded. “I wish my name was Hercules.”
Stormy laughed and told him what a cool name that would be.
I put a sandwich in front of her, and she looked up at me. “PB and J?” she said. “I haven’t had that in, like, forever.”
“You used to eat it every day when you were their age,” I said. Remembering something, I took back the plate. I had cut the sandwich diagonally, so I took the halves and rearranged them so the corners touched together in the middle like wings. Then I got a baby carrot out of the fridge and put it in the middle of the two halves. I handed the plate back to her. “A butterfly sandwich,” I pronounced, wondering if she’d remember when I made those for her.
She grinned at me. “Awesome,” she said, then picked up the carrot and took a bite.
After lunch, I took the boys outside, and they entertained themselves for almost an hour playing on the apple
tree in the backyard. Paul had put up a rope swing for Mason years ago, and the two boys swung and laughed and chased each other around the yard. At first I just watched them, but then I went and got my book when I realized they didn’t really need me other than in a supervisory role. I was two-thirds of the way through the book, and Asher was realizing he might not be able to have both his art and his religion, when a little voice got my attention.
“Tinky.”
I looked down into little Nathan’s face, his blue eyes looking hesitant.
“What’s that, sweetie?”
“Tinky?”
I wondered if he was talking about a game or something, and then realized he meant “stinky.” Perfect.
Oh, dear. I had never changed a little boy’s diaper. I led him into the house and laid him down on the kitchen floor—the tile was probably a better choice than carpet based on clean-ability. I folded a dishtowel beneath his head. I didn’t mean to judge Paige, but my girls had been potty trained by two and a half. As soon as I peeled the diaper back, I was even more convinced of the wisdom of that decision. Big boys made big . . . messes.
Stormy walked in and started gagging, inducing a quick getaway, and although I wasn’t so weak-willed, I found myself using just a few fingers to finish the clean up job. When I finished, Nathan scrambled back outside while I tried to recover.
“That was the nastiest thing ever,” Stormy said from the doorway.
I looked up from where I was double-bagging the dirty diaper. “Just wait,” I said, feigning the impression that this was no big deal. “You’ll have your turn, but hopefully not too soon.”
Stormy shuddered dramatically and announced she was taking a shower. I washed my hands—really, really well—and went back outside. Luckily, the boys hadn’t disappeared or started bleeding during the time they were unsupervised. When Stormy got out of the shower, she sat down by the Legos, and when the boys came back in, they started helping her with the house she was building. Within minutes, both boys were jabbering away, and I realized that I was at odds again. I’d expected this day to keep me running, yet my kitchen was clean, everyone was fed, and despite the extra energy, the day had been very pleasant. How about that. Maybe I was more prepared for grandmotherhood than I thought.
Paige showed up just after two o’clock, apologizing profusely for being late, which she wasn’t.
“You weren’t late,” I said, laughing at how stressed out she was as I put the wipes back in the diaper bag. Stormy had helped the boys clean up the Legos and then brought them into the living room.
“This is my daughter Stormy,” I said to Paige as she accepted the canister of Legos and smiled.
“Nice to meet you, Stormy,” she said. “Thanks for helping with the boys.”
“They’re really cute,” Stormy said. “It was fun. If you ever need a babysitter, give me a call.”
“Oh, you babysit?” Paige asked, obviously excited to have a prospective sitter volunteer. Then her excitement waned. “I live up in Tustin, though. Is that too far away?”
“I live in North Irvine,” Stormy said. “So it’s closer than if I lived here.”
I felt my face heat up with embarrassment at the admission that my daughter didn’t live with me. “Stormy’s just here for a visit. Jared, her dad, lives in Irvine.”
“What high school do you go to?” Paige asked as she picked up a stray Lego from the floor.
“Beckman.”
“Wow, that’s just a few miles away from me,” Paige said. “And I’m always looking for babysitters.”
“Here, I’ll give you my cell number,” Stormy said, going into the kitchen and grabbing a pen and a Post-it note. “When I get my car, I can even drive to your place.”
“What do you mean, when you get your car?” I asked, looking at her directly.
She handed Paige the Post-it and turned to me. “Didn’t Dad tell you? He’s getting me a car. I think we’re picking it up on Tuesday.”
“He didn’t tell me anything about that,” I said and winced internally at the edge in my voice. I wasn’t even sure why I was so mad—Jared getting Stormy a car was what I’d wanted a few months ago—but the fact that he hadn’t asked me to be a part of the decision irked me. I forced a smile but could tell that both Paige and Stormy knew it was fake. “Anyway,” I said with a laugh. “We’ll talk about it later.” I turned to Paige and handed her the diaper bag. “Do you need help getting out to your car?”
“Nope, I’m a pro at this,” she said. “Thank you so much,” she said again. “I don’t know what I’d have done without your help.”
“You bet,” I said, following her to the door. “Keep me . . . er . . . us in mind another time.”
“Thanks.” Paige waved to Stormy. “I will.”
I waited until she was halfway down the sidewalk before following Stormy back into the kitchen. “So, your dad’s buying you a car?”
“Yeah,” she said brightly, pulling a soda out of the fridge. “And it’s so cute. It’s a Honda Civic—not the hatchback kind that looks like a bug, the other one. It’s old, but it’s blue, and it’s not a grandma car.”
“Wow, that’s awesome,” I said, but my tone was flat. Why hadn’t Jared said anything about it to me? I didn’t like being left out of the loop. I liked even less how Jared now held the hero card with both hands. First he saved her from having to live with me, and now he was giving her a car—a huge undertaking he hadn’t even bothered to tell me about. My next thought was panic that he expected me to pay for half. I might be able to do that after I got my tax return, but that was a few months away. “And he’s paying for it and everything?”
“I guess he got a really big sale at work, so they gave him a bonus. He said he was going to talk to you about insurance, though. Maybe you should call him.”
“Yeah,” I said, heading for my cell phone. “Maybe I should.”
I wasn’t up for an argument, so I just rode out Jared’s explanation. He asked me to take care of the insurance, and I told him I would.
Stormy and I ended up meeting Paul for an early dinner at T.G.I. Fridays, and then I dropped Stormy off at a friend’s house and headed home. I’d been wearing jeans all day—jeans I hadn’t been able to fit into for more than a year—but they were uncomfortable after so many hours. I decided to trade them for a pair of lounge pants, but when I took them off, I caught my reflection in the mirror of our dresser. My legs had slimmed down for sure, and my backside was smaller too, but my stomach had not followed the same example. It struck me as strange, and as I looked in the mirror, it was impossible to ignore how off the proportions looked. Paige’s comment about how I might be pregnant filtered through my brain, and I shook my head.
I wasn’t pregnant; I was just getting old. That explained the strange shape of my body and my recent digestive issues and bouts of insomnia. That the symptoms were similar to pregnancy was just a mean trick of nature. I focused on my upper arms, which were not getting any less flabby as I aged.
I should really start doing some strength-training exercises. Maybe I could find an evening class that would work well with my schedule. Paul had put on some weight this last year and had commented about wanting to join a gym, so maybe we could find a place that would meet both our needs. I pulled on my lounge pants and left the room, turning off the light with a snap and deciding to leave the reflection behind completely.
Chapter 17
“I’m glad you could make it,” I said when Amy sat down the following Friday afternoon. We were at Bistro 17, a little café around the corner from the office. We’d had a few conversations since the incident in her office last month, but it wasn’t as easy to connect when we were surrounded by so many male coworkers.
“Me, too,” she said. She’d had her hair colored in the last few weeks, a cherry cola color that looked really nice against her skin.
“I love the hair.”
She looked up as though she could see it, which she couldn’t since it was pulled back
in a ponytail, but she smiled. “Thanks. It’s a little dramatic for me.”
“Ah, what fun is it to be a girl if you’re not dramatic now and again?” I was a hypocrite to say so, since I’d had the same hairstyle for the last twenty years—subtle layers in my thick blonde hair that I had pencil weaved every five weeks to hide both the gray and the natural blah brown color my roots betray as the real me. I had an appointment next week to get a touch-up, in fact. Maybe I’d go crazy and get some honey tones weaved in this time!
She smiled a little wider. “Good point.”
We caught up on office small talk for a minute, making fun of Eric, another agent, who had started wearing a bow tie to work. I suspected he was desperate to stand out from every other suit in the office. Amy was certain he was a Pee-wee Herman look-alike on the weekends and was beginning a subtle intermingling of the duality of the lives he lived. After we ordered—tomato ravioli soup for me and an Asian chicken salad for Amy—I asked her how she was doing. “You look really good,” I said. “Have you lost weight?”
Amy straightened her silverware on the table of the booth where we were sitting. “Yeah,” she said, but there was some strange kind of apology in her tone. “I stopped all the meds and hormones, and the weight is practically melting off my hips and thighs. I’m down almost ten pounds already.”
I raised my eyebrows. “You stopped taking all of the medications?” I didn’t know details, but I knew she’d been taking quite a cocktail.
“Every one.” Amy met my eyes. “And I feel great.”
“I bet you do,” I said. “Just taking birth control pills sent me for a loop back in the day. I don’t think I’d have been able to even function if I’d been doing all the hormones and things that you’ve done.”
“I don’t think I realized how much all that was messing with me until I stopped taking them. I sleep better, I’m not hungry all the time, and Mick dares talk to me about all kinds of subjects that I used to get weepy about. It’s been good.” I could feel her relief, and I was so glad she had a reprieve, but I couldn’t let the next question go unasked. I wouldn’t be a good friend if I did.
The Newport Ladies Book Club: Daisy Page 9