“Fusion Fitness. Do you know it?”
“I actually do know it. My daughter works out there.”
“Great! They have the best classes in Kansas City. Believe me, I’ve tried them all.”
I believe her.
“Come a bit early so we can make sure you have the right settings on your bike.”
I’m already regretting it.
* * *
On the way home Ron and I do a postmortem on the dinner.
“Food was great. I love their duck.”
“I know. And that warm goat cheese salad was so good. Too much wine for you guys, though.”
Ron groans. “I know. I’m going to be hurting tomorrow. But what did you think of them?”
“They seem decent. I mostly talked to Janine.”
“Yeah, sorry about that. Rolly and I just sort of fell into shop talk.”
“About whose shop?”
“He was asking me about the store and I told him I was thinking of franchising. He had lots to say about it.”
“I can imagine. Did he give you any advice?”
“No, he mostly just told me about his experiences. He’s had an interesting run of it.”
I can’t decide if I want to know more. Turns out it doesn’t matter, because Ron asks me what Janine and I talked about.
“Spinning.”
“What about it?”
“Everything about it! I’m meeting her for a class tomorrow morning.”
Ron gives me a mystified look.
“Why would you ever agree to that?”
“Just trying to keep you on Rolly’s good side. Plus, as it turns out the class is at Fusion, so at least it’s close by.”
“Well, I hope you like it. People say it’s life-changing.”
I don’t bother to respond.
7
* * *
To: Grades K–5 Parents
From: JDixon
Re: Safety Patrol
Date: 10/8
Hello Fellow Patrol Patrollers!
I hope you are all gearing up for what promises to be an excruciating experience.
I have attached the first schedule, which starts a week from today and will take us through December. If you don’t see your name on the schedule, don’t worry. It will probably show up in the new year. And the Old Farmer’s Almanac is predicting the snowiest January this century!
Morning supervisors, please arrive no later than 7:30 a.m. and head straight to Safety Patrol Command Central (the utility room at the back of the gym) to meet the patrollers and don your vest. Your role is supervisory. Watch the kids and only step in when you have to. Your tour of duty ends at 8:30 a.m. Afternoon supervisors, you are on from 2:30 till 3:30. Please make sure the equipment is returned to Command Central and the kids clean up their inevitable hot chocolate mess.
As I have mentioned before, if you have any issues with the date for which you are scheduled, please take it upon yourself to find someone to switch with you. I will not be that someone.
Always a pleasure!
Jen
* * *
I know damn well that last line is wishful thinking.
I take another loving sip of coffee and don’t feel one bit ashamed of my defeat in the battle against caffeine. Everyone is happier, especially Max and Ron. My husband is thrilled that I mostly make it at home and when I do get it on the go, I’ve swapped Starbucks for Dunkin Donuts. The roast isn’t as dark and I don’t like the cups, but whatever. We’re all making sacrifices.
On this sunny Monday morning, the boys are celebrating this Veterans Day by going to watch the ROTC performances at the Sprint Campus. I, however, am just realizing that I only have twenty minutes to get to my spin class. Yes, I said spin class. You are talking to the converted. No one is more surprised than I am.
Janine and I did indeed meet at Fusion the morning after our dinner at Café Provence. I’m not going to lie, I had a bit of a ’tude walking in there. The man/boy behind the counter forced a pair of the gym’s spin shoes on me, explaining that I had to wear them in order to take the class. I thought putting on a pair of shoes that at least a thousand feet had previously perspired in was the grossest thing I would do that day, but I was wrong. That lovely moment came when the spin room doors opened, and a swarm of disgustingly sweaty people came pouring out along with a waft of what smelled like a mixture of BO and vagina. I nearly threw up.
Janine basically cock-walked me to my bike at the back of the room and hovered while I set up my seat height and handlebars. The room was already like 100 degrees and I really wasn’t sure how long I would last, what with the smell and the wall-to-wall mirrors that allowed me no place to hide.
A tall, solid-looking gal strode to the instructor bike, calling out salutations to people as she went along.
“That’s Carmen,” Janine whispered reverently.
Carmen easily clipped her shoes into her pedals, swept her shoulder-length red hair into a ponytail, put her microphone headset on, and said “Hey, peeps! Happy Saturday. Glad you showed up to sweat out the alcohol from last night.”
There were whoops and cheers from the twenty-plus riders in the room. What a bunch of morons, I muttered to myself. Turns out it was the last negative thought I had that day, because Carmen dimmed the lights and started the music.
Suddenly the room was filled with the unmistakable guitar licks of INXS’s “New Sensation,” and from that moment on I felt like I had died and gone to heaven. Every song Carmen played was from the soundtrack of my life. She went from rock to pop to hip-hop to a Broadway show tune and it all sounded amazing on the room’s pimped-out sound system. I didn’t have a hope in hell of keeping up with the class, what with the standing up and sitting down and doing ab crunches, but the music made me want to stay and at least try. At one point I looked over at Janine and she was running off the saddle and singing her heart out to “Livin’ on a Prayer.” As Bon Jovi belted out, “Take my hand, we’ll make it I swear,” she grabbed my hand and yanked it in the air. I started singing too, and I didn’t even feel embarrassed. It was so liberating.
Before I knew it, we were stretching to the Dixie Chicks’ version of “Landslide” and the forty-five-minute class was over. Everyone was clapping for Carmen, so I wholeheartedly joined in. I was dripping with sweat and I’m sure I smelled like the dickens.
“Oh, my God!” I said to Janine as we were walking out. “That was amazing! I loved it. Thank you so much for bringing me! Her music was insane.”
Janine was gracious enough not to say, “I told you so,” but it was written all over her face.
Since then I have gone three more times. Fusion Fitness was having a recruiting special, so I joined and got the first three months free. Ron wasn’t thrilled that I’d joined a gym during belt-tightening season and was even less happy when I told him I needed my own pair of cycling shoes. But I reminded him it was a good way to bond with Janine. And besides, he could get the shoes wholesale, and they really do make for a more efficient ride. And since the only smelly feet to have touched them are mine, I don’t gag when I put them on.
Carmen is my go-to girl, but if she isn’t teaching I’ll try other instructors. Before she went back to Boise, Janine gave me a list of teachers she thought I’d enjoy. I don’t know if I’ll ever see her again, but I will certainly never forget the third Mrs. Schrader. I owe her big-time.
My phone buzzes as I buckle myself into the minivan. It’s a text from Laura.
Hi Mom! We’re in Amsterdam. What’s the name of that theme park you told me and Vivs about?
It takes me a minute to realize she is talking about Efteling, a fairytale-themed amusement park I went to way back when I was “touring” (ahem) with INXS. I must never have told her the whole story of what happened there, otherwise it would be the last place she’d want to go.
That was the day I learned the hard way to always listen to my body. The band had a day off between gigs, so the crew decided to have some fun and go to
the amusement park. I was feeling funky that morning. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but I just wasn’t myself. (“Then who are you?” Michael Hutchence asked me when I told him. He was such a cut-up.) I really didn’t want to miss a fun day with the band, so I took some Tylenol with my coffee and sucked it up. When we got to the park I was told I just had to try poffertjes, which are Dutch mini pancakes. By that time, I had moved on from feeling funky and was starving, so I scarfed down six of them. You can see where this is going, right? During the first steep drop on the rickety wooden roller coaster, I puked my guts out and then fainted. I woke up on a stretcher on my way to the Efteling first-aid post. I wanted to get up and walk but Butchie, one of the roadies who was with me and the only one of us who spoke Dutch, insisted that I let them examine me. The medic found nothing wrong with me, but a blood test with the band’s doctor later that day gave me the shock of my life—I was pregnant.
It’s called Efteling. Are you going to go?
Ya. We have some downtime and there’s only so much weed you can smoke! (kidding).
Very funny. The Van Gogh Museum is great too, and Anne Frank’s house. And go to the Heineken Beer Museum.
Chill, Mom. We’re only here for a couple of days. The band has a gig in Utrecht on Saturday. Thanks for the info.
You’re welcome, sweetie. Let’s talk soon.
I don’t get an answer to that suggestion, so I pull out of the driveway and hightail it to Carmen’s 9:30 class.
* * *
Forty-five sweaty minutes later, I emerge from spin class still humming the last song she played—“Paradise by the Dashboard Light,” by Meat Loaf—and checking my phone for messages when I run headlong into someone coming out of the men’s locker room.
“Oh God, I’m so sorry,” I say, and I really am. I hate when people are looking at their phones instead of where they are going.
“No problem. My fault, too.” He looks at me and smiles. “Hey, I think I know you.”
How anyone could recognize me when I look like I’ve just had a bucket of water thrown on me is beyond comprehension, but I give him a once-over to see if he rings any bells.
Just as I notice the scar under his eye, he says, “You’re friends with Buddy and Peetsa, right?”
He’s the divorced friend that Buddy is staying with.
“I’m TJ. We met at one of their barbecues.”
“Yes, of course. How are you?”
“I’m good, thanks. You?”
He’s not bad-looking and he fills out his gym clothes quite nicely. I’m trying to remember how old he is. At least forty-five, but he certainly doesn’t look it, even with his salt-and-pepper hair.
“I’m a sweaty mess, but otherwise fine. Buddy is staying with you, isn’t he?”
“Yeah.” He laughs. “I haven’t had a guy roommate since college.”
“How is he doing?”
TJ shrugs. “Not bad, considering. I really hope they can work it out.”
“I do too.” Suddenly I feel uncomfortable talking about my close friend’s private life with a stranger.
“Well, enjoy your workout,” I say and head toward the women’s locker room.
“Thanks. Nice bumping into you.”
Awkward, I sing to myself as I head home.
* * *
After a shower, I decide to check SignUpGenius to make sure everything on the list of goodies for this Thursday’s curriculum night has been spoken for. I don’t know if I’m more surprised or pissed off that only two things have been checked—the Browns are bringing cheese, and the Changs are bringing water. Jesus, Jackie Westman hasn’t even signed up for cups, and that’s her go-to thing! Clearly a reminder email is needed. Do they think I’ve gone soft now that I’m doing safety patrol?
* * *
To: Parents
From: JDixon
Re: Are we on a group diet?
Date: October 8th
People!
I just checked the SignUpGenius thingy and I was shocked (shocked!) to see that only two families have signed up to bring something this Thursday night. (Thank you, Browns and Changs.)
What the heck is going on? I’m pretty sure we can’t survive two hours together on cheese and water alone. I really thought I had you all trained better than this. Clearly my year off has made you lazy.
Please, please get those fingers tapping and sign up to bring something. I promised you wine, didn’t I? That should be incentive enough.
I’d say thank you, but really, what for?
Jen
* * *
I’m making a cup of tea half an hour later when Max and Ron come stomping in the back door.
“Mom! Bruce Willis goes so fast!” is how Max greets me.
I raise my eyebrow at my husband. “Really? How fast?”
Ron gives me a look like he doesn’t know what Max is talking about.
“I don’t know but we passed so many cars. It was cool.” Max’s cheeks are pink from being outside all morning, and his eyes are shining.
Ron changes the subject: “Anyone hungry for lunch?”
I scrunch up my nose. “Why don’t I make grilled-cheese sandwiches?”
“I’m going to go try on my Halloween costume.” Max dashes up the stairs.
“Again?” Ron yells after him.
“Forever,” I whisper and start heating the pan for the grilled cheese.
Max’s costume this year was quite the drama. He of course wanted to be an American Ninja Warrior, but they don’t really wear anything specific, mainly just tight workout clothes. Most of the men don’t even wear tops. But a few of them do stand out style-wise, so we decided he would dress like Drew Drechsel, who calls himself the real-life Ninja. Ron had Drechsel’s signature orange T-shirt duplicated, and we paired it with black pants. The tricky part was finding a headband the same shade of orange as the shirt. We finally just bought a white one and I spent a very long afternoon dyeing it to Max’s satisfaction.
This all happened back in August, the time of year when all overindulgent parents let their children get their Halloween costumes. I usually make Max wait until at least mid-September just in case he changes his mind. But we were feeling guilty about all the time we had spent away from him while my mother was sick so, voilà, a summer Halloween costume that he has worn almost every day since.
“How was spin?” Ron asks while his head is in the fridge.
“Excellent as usual.” I bump him out of my way and grab cheese and bread.
“Carmen?”
“Yup. I love her so much.”
“Sounds like you might leave me for her.”
“I probably will, right after you leave me for Bruce Willis.”
Ron nods. “Well, I may have to. I mean, how much beer can you carry?”
8
* * *
To: Safety Patrol People
From: JDixon
Re: Plot twist!
Date: 10/16
Good morning WHTSPP (William H. Taft Safety Patrol People)!
Breaking news from Command Central. It seems Sherlay DeJones is having separation anxiety from her duties at the corner of 12th and Hayward. In what can only be described as a shocking plot twist, she has asked that she be allowed to stay on and supervise the safety patrollers for the morning shift only. After my initial thought of “In God’s name, why?” I realized this is good news for all of us. It means even fewer of you will be called upon to serve. How great is that?
If you’ve read the schedule, you’ll know I have put myself down for the first three days, so I can troubleshoot any issues. On top of street-crossing violations, I will also be on the lookout for littering, loitering, lollygagging, and larceny. Nothing’s going down on my watch. I encourage all of you to adopt the same attitude.
Wish me luck today!
It’s my honor to serve and protect,
Jen
* * *
With that out of the way, I realize I have some unexpected time on my hands. Sherlay
DeJones’s eleventh-hour switchback, coupled with Ron taking Max to school, has given me the morning free, and I’m thrilled. I might even get a run in.
I sit back in my kitchen-counter-office chair and debate calling Vivs. Things have been tense between us since I stopped by her work that day. She has shut down every attempt I’ve made to ask about her personal life and now she’s just avoiding me outright. Ron’s advice is to give her some space and she will come back when she needs something. For once, I listen to him.
Moving on, I consider sending a note to my class parents. I haven’t written anything since the curriculum-night fiasco and I decide I’m still not ready to.
Let me just say this, technology sucks. That SignUpGenius thingy that was supposed to save me time and trouble turned out to be a cosmic joke … on me … because (and it kills me to admit this) I didn’t really understand how it worked. I didn’t realize that I was getting email updates from the thingy until after curriculum night, when I found them in my spam folder. Stupid signup thingy. If I’d seen those emails before I would have realized there was a glitch.
As a result, nine people brought mini quiches and one brought cups. Add that to what was already signed up for, we had water, cheese (no crackers), nine dozen mini quiches (no plates or napkins), and wine. Which would have been fine, except that the microwave in Razzi’s classroom wasn’t working so I had to run to the teachers’ lounge every five minutes to heat some quiches up.
Because of all that, I missed most of the socializing and barely caught the end of Razzi’s speech about what the kids were going to be doing this year. Normally I wouldn’t care but I had actually been looking forward to seeing some of the parents (apparently hell has frozen over) and catching up on the gossip. Ron tried to fill me in, but men are generally clueless when it comes to the subtext of an innocent comment. For example, gorgeous Jean-Luc Baton told him that he and Mary Jo renewed their wedding vows not once but twice this summer. Ron took that at face value, but every woman knows a vow renewal is the same as yelling, “Our marriage is in trouble!,” unless it’s a twenty-fifth anniversary or something. But a renewal in year nine is just a cry for help. I told him as much on the car ride home.
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