Steve appeared in the kitchen doorway, munching a bowl of cereal. “Hey, you’re back. Did they get the thing out of Danny’s nose?”
“Oh yes,” I said. “It took about six seconds and cost us two hundred fifty dollars!”
Steve’s eyes got big. “Ouch.”
“And look at this place! Toys everywhere, shoes that don’t even fit, a whole bunch of crap we don’t need cluttering up everything so much that I can’t even think straight.”
Steve ate another spoonful of cereal. “So get rid of it,” he said with his mouth full.
“Get rid of it?”
He shrugged. “If you don’t need it and it’s bugging you, then get rid of some of it.”
“Of course,” I said slowly. I jumped out of the chair and threw my arms around him, practically knocking the cereal bowl out of his hands. “Of course! You’re a genius!”
“Really? Saying that makes me a genius?”
“It’s not that!” I said, turning quickly toward the kids who both looked completely confused. I turned back to Steve. “Don’t you see?”
All three heads slowly shook back and forth in silence.
“We’ll have a garage sale!” I announced, throwing my hands triumphantly in the air. “Then we’ll not only get rid of all this junk …”
“Our stuff’s not junk!” Danny protested.
“But,” I said, “if we sell some of it we’ll get enough money to pay the hospital bill, and maybe even the traffic ticket, and … and …”
Steve looked doubtful. “You really think our junk is worth over two hundred bucks?”
“It’s not junk!” Danny insisted.
“Sure,” I said. “I mean, it’s not just the kids’ stuff. I’ve got a bunch of stuff in my closet that I never wear anymore, and all those shelves in the computer room could probably do with some thinning out.”
“Hey!” said Steve. “Don’t touch those shelves. That’s where I keep my old comic books and all my Star Wars collectibles.”
“Okay, fine,” I said with a grin. “The comic books and Star Wars collectibles can stay. But the garage sale is on!”
Chapter Ten
“This Hello Kitty puzzle is missing a piece,” announced a woman with a baggy blue T-shirt and straight brown hair almost down to her waist. She dropped the box on the table with a bang. “I counted them.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” I said. “Are you sure? I thought I checked all the …”
“Of course I’m sure,” she interrupted. “I counted them and there’s only ninety-nine pieces. I know how to count.”
“Oh … kay,” I said. “Well, if it’s missing a piece, you’re welcome to just have it for free. We’re done with …”
“I don’t want a puzzle with a missing piece. I just thought you should know.” She glared at me, then turned and headed for the table of children’s books.
Perhaps she’s on a quest to inspect Goodnight Moon and Hippos Go Berserk! for any imperfections, I thought.
Steve came outside and walked over to my sale table on the edge of the driveway. He was holding a cup of coffee in one hand and a folding chair in the other. “How’s it going?” He unfolded the chair and sat down next to me. “Did we make enough to offset the urgent care bill yet?”
“Not quite,” I said, tipping back the mug I was using for proceeds to show him it was empty.
“Well, you’ve only been out here for, what, less than an hour?” Steve looked at his watch. “Maybe things will pick up.”
“Maybe,” I said, scrunching up my nose, “but I always thought the hardcore garage sale shoppers came super early, so I’m not sure if the crowds will pick up or fizzle out. Hey, what are the kids up to?”
As if on cue, Danny and Angela came barreling outside. They were both barefoot.
“Hi Mommy!” Danny yelled from across the driveway. His mouth was full, he was carrying a half-eaten strawberry Pop-Tart, and his red shirt was inside out.
“Can we help?” Angela asked. Her curly hair was a tangled mess, sticking straight out in some places. And her pink blouse was so wrinkled that it looked like it’d been balled up and stuffed inside a shoebox for a month.
“I’m not sure there’s much to do.” I was watching a man walking around our driveway, but he headed back to his car without touching anything or even slowing down. “We haven’t really been getting a lot of action yet.”
“Oh.” Angela sounded disappointed. She looked around and frowned for a moment. Then her eyes lit up. “I know what to do! Hang on, I’ll be right back!” She disappeared into the house, unkempt hair flying behind her.
Steve and I exchanged looks.
“Any idea what she’s doing?” Steve asked. “You know them better than I do.”
“You got me,” I said. “I never know what’s going on around here either. But we could use all the help we can get.”
A car slowed down as it was driving by. It paused in front of our house for a few seconds before speeding off down the street.
Danny climbed into my lap. He was still eating his Pop-Tart.
A woman with a blond ponytail pushing a toddler in an umbrella stroller walked up to the table. She set down a pile of clothes. “I’ll take these.”
“Great.” I gave Steve a quick smile and started sorting through the clothes. “Let’s see, this blouse is four dollars, and another four for the jeans makes eight, this dress is seven dollars …”
“Hey!” Danny said excitedly as he hopped off my lap. “She’s buying that dress that you hate!”
“Oh … heh heh.” I covered up the dress with the jeans. “That’s the beauty of a garage sale, Danny. We can get rid of what we don’t want anymore, and other people can enjoy …”
“But you said no one would ever buy that dress!” Danny was obviously thrilled at our triumph. “I heard you tell Dad that the fabric was cheap and that it made you look like an eggplant and the only reason you even kept it that long was because it was a gift from Grandma.”
The woman with the ponytail lifted the dress out from under the jeans. She held it up and frowned.
“There’s nothing wrong with the dress,” Steve said to Danny. “It just isn’t a good color for your mom. It would probably look better on a blond.”
The woman either didn’t hear Steve, or she simply wasn’t interested in his fashion opinions. She turned the dress from back to front, rubbed the fabric between her thumb and forefinger, and folded it back up.
“I think I’ll pass on this after all,” she said, setting the dress off to the side and looking through the rest of the clothes in her pile. “And I don’t think I’ll get this one … or this one … and I guess I don’t really need this one either.” She pushed the four items in her discard pile toward me and patted the two remaining toddler shirts. “Just these.”
“Great,” I said, forcing myself to smile. “That’ll be six dollars.”
The woman gave me the money and thanked me. She put the two shirts in her stroller basket and headed off happily.
Steve and I looked at each other. Then we both slowly turned to glare at Danny.
“What?” he asked innocently. “What did I do?”
“We don’t need any commentary on the merchandise,” Steve said quietly.
Danny contorted his face. “What’s that mean?”
“It means,” I sighed, “that you just cost us almost thirty dollars.” I tilted the mug toward me. “Although, at least this isn’t empty anymore.”
“Maaahh-MEEEEEE!!” Angela shrieked from inside the house.
The three of us, well, probably everybody at the garage sale, whipped around.
Angela came running out of the garage, her arms flailing. “Come quick!”
“What is it?” I asked.
“I was making …” she was speaking between gasps and sobs, “ … lemonade so we could sell it to everybody … who comes. I … I filled the pitcher with water and lemon juice … and then when I reached for the sugar canister I … knocked the
pitcher over and … the whole thing spilled on the floor. I … I tried to grab it when it spilled and … I knocked the sugar off the counter and the canister broke … and there’s sugar all over the kitchen floor … and when I tried to clean it up I cut my thumb … on one of the broken pieces … and now it’s bleeding. So I … I started to run and get you but the kitchen floor was … all wet so I slipped and fell … and now my bottom hurts!” She made a snuffling sound, ran the back of her hand against her nose, and gulped for breath.
My brain hadn’t comprehend all of that, nor was it sure that it even wanted to. But I was pretty sure I heard the word bleeding somewhere in there. “Let me see.”
She held out her thumb. There was a round blob of blood on it.
“Oh, it’ll be fine,” I said. “We just need to wash it and put a Band-Aid on it.”
“I didn’t know you knew how to make lemonade,” Steve said to Angela.
She gave him a surprised look. “Mommy taught us how to cook, remember?” she said, jabbing her bloodied thumb in my direction. “I can make anything now.”
“Ah, of course.” Steve gave me an amused smile.
I sighed. I guess we all eventually rue the day we teach our kids to be self-reliant, I thought.
“Here,” Steve said wearily, pushing against the table as he stood up. “I’ll deal with this one Heather. You just stay and be ready for the flood of customers when they come.”
“Oh, thank you!” I gushed, not even wanting to imagine the sticky wet mess that was waiting in the kitchen, or the army of ants preparing to charge in from all ends of the Earth. “Thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you.”
“Should I go help too?” Danny asked, leaping up as Steve and Angela started toward the house.
“No!” Steve yelled. “Uh, I mean …”
“You stay here and keep me company, Danny.” I patted the chair that Steve had been sitting in. “Just don’t comment on what people buy, okay?”
“Okay.” Danny plopped down in the chair just as a man with a baseball cap approached the table.
The man began lining up several of Danny’s Fisher-Price vehicles. “I’ll take these.”
Hurray! Not only was he buying five items, but they were all close to ten dollars each. “Okay, great. Let’s see, that’s a total of …”
“NOOO!!!” Danny bellowed, jumping up. “Those are mine!”
The man raised his eyebrows at me.
“Oh … heh heh.” I laughed. “He hasn’t played with these since preschool. He’s just being silly, aren’t you, Danny?” I playfully ruffled his hair.
Danny was not amused. He jerked away from me. “These are mine!” He snatched the fire engine with one hand and the tow truck with the other. “He can’t have them!”
Two shoppers who were digging through piles of baby clothes looked up to see what all the commotion was about.
“Danny,” I hissed, leaning toward him, “we talked about this yesterday. You never play with them anymore and you agreed that we could sell them. Remember? Besides, you still have a ton of other cars and trucks and trains and …”
“I never said that!” Danny screeched. He frantically scooped up all five toys and hugged them against his chest. “I love these! They’re my favorites! I never said you could sell them!”
“That’s not true, of course,” I said to the man. “We really did talk about this yesterday, and he really did insist that we …”
“Hey, look,” said the man, “I don’t want to take them away from him if he loves them that much.”
“No!” I said desperately. “No, he really doesn’t love them that much! Trust me, they’ve been sitting on the floor of the playroom untouched for four months, at least! And he spends most of his time these days playing with his Matchbox cars and Hot Wheels, and … and he has way too many toys anyway! I mean, they’re just piled up everywhere and last week we couldn’t even find his sneakers after he stuck his sister’s Barbie shoe up his nose, and we all had to run to the emergency room with him wearing his bear claw slippers that his grandma gave him, and …”
The man held up his hand. “It’s okay. I don’t mind one bit. You can keep them, buddy,” he said to Danny. “Hey, gimme five.”
Danny looked surprised. He grinned and whacked the man’s hand as hard as he could.
“Have a great day,” said the man. He winked at Danny before he strode off.
AARRRGH!!!
I let my forehead drop down to the table.
“Isn’t it great Mommy?” said Danny. “I get to keep them after all.”
“Yeah, great,” I mumbled into the table before slowing raising my head. “Danny, do you know what the purpose of a garage sale is?”
He cocked his head to one side and stared at me.
“The purpose of a garage sale is to sell things and make money. We want people to buy these things. That’s the reason we spent half the week gathering and tagging all this stuff, and why I’m spending half of my weekend sitting here watching total strangers poking through our things.”
He continued to stare at me, confused.
I sighed. “Never mind. I get it. You love your trucks. Well, if we’re not going to sell them, why don’t you go ahead and put them back inside. Oh, and ask your dad and Angela if they need me to do anything.”
I watched Danny scamper toward the house using his inside out shirt like a pouch to carry the toys. When I turned back around a girl who looked about eleven was standing at the table.
“Can I help you?” I asked, wondering how long she’d been standing there.
She nodded slowly. “I … have a question about the board games over there.”
“Okay.”
She didn’t reply.
I tilted my head. “So, what’s your question?”
She glanced over her shoulder, then back at me. “What?”
Apparently, kids aren’t any less weird as they grow older, I thought.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “Did you say that you had a question for me?”
“Oh yeah, right.” She looked uncomfortable. “Yeah, I need you to come over there. I need to show you something.”
“Okay, sure.” I shrugged, stood up, and followed her to the table with the board games. “What did you want to know?”
“Um, yeah …” Her eyes darted around a few times, then she slowly picked Candy Land off the top of the stack. “Is this for sale?”
“Is it for sale?” I repeated.
“Yeah, well, like, I know it’s for sale, but … is it any good?”
“Well, it’s a good game for preschoolers. Are you planning to buy it for a younger sibling?”
“Uh … yeah, sure,” she said, shrugging. “Like, how do you play it?”
“Well, you take turns picking cards that tell you what color to move to on the path. The first player who reaches the …”
“Never mind.” The girl tossed the box back onto the table and started walking away. “Thanks.”
I shook my head and put the game back on top of the stack, straightening the box so that it lined up with the Hi-Ho! Cherry-O game underneath.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the girl with a man. Was that her father? They were near the end of my driveway, hurrying toward the street. Okay, now this was really weird. It was almost like they were …
Wait a minute. Was it possible? I darted back to the sale table and picked up my mug. It was empty. Completely empty!
“Hey! HEY!!” I screamed as I ran toward the edge of the driveway.
They walked faster, jumped in a car, and slammed the doors.
“YOU THIEF!” I yelled, running down my driveway as they sped away. “Come back here! Yeah, you!” I was shaking my fist in the air even though I knew it was a lost cause at that point. “You despicable person, getting your own child to help you steal! And for what? Fourteen measly dollars? You lousy garage sale shoppers are all so cheap!”
I turned around. Five garage sale shoppers we
re all staring at me. “Well,” I said, “not you, of course. I meant that guy!” I jabbed my finger in the direction of the street.
I was met with an uncomfortable silence and some shifty eyes. I’m sure people were wondering if the woman with all the junk piled in her driveway was mentally unbalanced.
“Uh, anyway …” I coughed and walked calmly back to my chair, forcing a smile. “Enjoy your shopping everybody! Just let me know if you need anything.”
I got a couple dubious looks before everyone went back to rooting through our stuff.
Steve came outside. Both kids were trailing behind him. “Okay, I think we got the kitchen under control. I added sugar to your grocery list, and Mr. Clean. Oh, and you might want to buy a new sugar container. I just put it in a Tupperware one for now.”
“I got a pink Band-Aid!” Angela announced, showing me her thumb.
“You guys missed the excitement,” I said. “Someone stole all our proceeds, or profits, or net, uh … Well, anyway, someone stole all the money while you were inside.”
“What?” Steve asked. “What happened?”
“I was tricked by an eleven-year-old,” I muttered.
“How much did they take?”
“All of it. Fourteen dollars.”
“Oh.” Steve considered for a moment, then shrugged. “Well, then maybe we should be glad the sale has been a big failure so far.”
I was about to say something when someone said, “Excuse me.”
A man was holding a little boy’s hand. The boy was a bit younger than Danny, bouncing up and down on the man’s feet.
“Could we go inside and use your bathroom?” the man asked. “My son really has to go.”
I knew that bounce all too well. “Oh, sure,” I said, gesturing toward the house. “If you go right in through the garage and then …” I saw Steve raising his eyebrows at me. “Uh … then into the, um …”
Confessions of a Wedding Musician Mom Page 9