“No way! I’ll be home in an hour and I can take care of him. You deserve a girls’ night.”
“Are you sure? I mean, I hate to leave you…” I trail off.
“Please! I’ve done this before.”
Uh, no you haven’t, I think. And it’s true. Shame on me, but I have never left a sick Max alone with Ron. I think my love for my husband has been well established, but he has this “tough it out” mentality when it comes to Max. And that’s fine, except for when he’s sick. Ron doesn’t have the empathy gene. He’s like, “I’m sad you’re sick, but really? Are you still sick? It’s been two hours already.”
But none of that is going to stop me from going out tonight. Max will likely sleep through, and if he does wake up he’ll just want some soup and his iPad.
“You’re the best,” I tell Ron. “I’ll see you when you get home.”
Upstairs, I check on Max and he is sleeping soundly under his American Ninja Warrior sheets and comforter, so I jump in the shower.
As I finish drying my hair, Ron comes in and kisses my cheek. I have on my favorite pair of jeans, wedge-heeled black boots, and a tight black turtleneck sweater.
“Looking good, Mrs. Dixon.” He leans on the counter and gives me a once-over.
“Feeling good, Mr. Dixon.” I smile.
“Good enough to go to Vegas?” He smiles back.
“What?”
“I just got a call from Rolly on my way home. He’s invited you, me, and Max to go to Vegas over spring break.”
“I hope you told him we can’t afford it.”
“I tried but he said he’s having a company incentive retreat there and has extra rooms. He wants to send plane tickets, too.”
“That’s insane. Why would he want us there?”
Ron shrugs. “Not sure. Maybe he wants to talk about buying me out.”
“You want to be bought out?” This is news to me. “What happened to him just investing in your expansion?”
He sighs and sits down on the toilet. “I’m just so freakin’ tired of worrying about money. If I’d known expanding was going to be such a ring of fire around my butt I would have stuck with my one little store and shut up about it.”
I hate to see him like this—borderline defeated. This is not the man I married.
“I know you don’t want me to work, but I’m happy to get a job—even part-time.” Ron has always prided himself on being the lone provider for us and since I never really had a career, I was happy to be home with Max.
“We’re not there yet, but thanks for offering again.” He looks at his shoes.
“Vegas might be fun,” I posit as I put my lipstick on. “But what would Max do? Play the slots?”
Ron lights up. “No, that’s the best part. Guess who is filming in Vegas that weekend?”
“The Real Housewives of Las Vegas?”
“American Ninja Warrior.”
I gasp. “Seriously? He’ll go insane! Well, now we have to go.” I start mentally planning what clothes I’m going to bring.
“I think so, too. I’m going to tell Rolly it’s a yes.”
I look at my phone.
“I’ve got to run. Do not tell Max about this until we know it’s set, and then we can do it together. I can’t wait to see the look on his face.”
“Any instructions for him before you go?” Nurse Ron is on duty.
“If you’re lucky, he’ll sleep through the night. But if he wakes up, just give him some chicken noodle soup and let him watch TV.” I kiss him, leaving a Passion Berry stain on his mouth.
“Got it. Have fun. Don’t drink too much.”
I roll my eyes. “Please! It’s not like Janine is going to be there.”
* * *
“How’s Max?” Peetsa asks when she picks me up in her Jeep Cherokee. I can hear Pink’s “Who Knew” playing softly on the radio.
“Sleeping, thank goodness.” I stomp my feet and clap my gloved hands to get warm. “Fever is down, thanks to the Motrin.”
“I haven’t heard of anything going around. Do you think it’s the flu?”
“He doesn’t have any other symptoms.” I shrug. I really don’t want to talk about it. I might start feeling guilty and make her turn around, so I change the subject.
“Can we do a Buddy update before we see Sylvie?” I know P. doesn’t like to talk about her personal life with very many people.
She sighs and turns the radio all the way down. “Well, he’s completely moved out. Took the last of his stuff a few days ago. You know he found an apartment, right?”
“No! Where?”
“Downtown near his work.”
“So, no more TJ’s?”
“Nope. Moved out of the love shack.”
“The love shack?”
“That’s what Buddy called it, because TJ was always having women over.”
I’m not sure why, but that makes my skin crawl. I want to ask if she thinks Buddy had women over too, but I think better of it. “How are the kids doing?”
“It’s hard to tell.” Peetsa hits the brakes as a cat runs in front of the car. “On the surface they seem fine. Not sure what a shrink would say.”
“Probably that you’re doing a great job.” I pat her leg.
We pull into the parking lot at TGI Friday’s and hustle inside the restaurant. This is one nasty cold snap. The only upside is it’s too cold to snow.
Friday’s is a cheery place to go. With the red leather booths and carnival-like atmosphere, it’s almost impossible not to have a good time. Or so I thought.
“Oh my God, it’s all women in here.” Peetsa doesn’t sound happy.
“Well, it is Ladies’ Night,” I remind her. “Maybe the men come later.”
We’re seated at a small table and order a couple of glasses of water while we wait for Sylvie. My back is to the door so I don’t see her until she is upon us.
“Hey, guys. Look who I bumped into in the parking lot.”
I look up and see none other than Alison Lody standing by our table. Alison fucking Lody. Instantly, my girls’ night is ruined. My yum is yucked. My balloon of happiness is effectively popped.
“I’m meeting someone here.” Alison seems embarrassed. “You guys know her—Asami from school.”
I have a fake smile plastered on my face, but all I can think is “Okay, where’s the hidden camera?” It’s the only excuse I can imagine for this unwelcome moment of worlds colliding.
“You guys should join us,” Sylvie says, unwittingly signing her own death warrant. Oh, yes, I will kill her later.
“Stop cringing,” Peetsa whispers in my ear. Cringing? I thought I was smiling. I take a deep breath and regroup. I need alcohol if I’m going to make this work.
“Let’s get a bigger table,” I say with a bit too much enthusiasm.
Sylvie grabs the hostess and asks for a table for five. Asami arrives just as we’re settling in and peeling off coats and hats and scarves. She looks as surprised by this group collision as I am.
“Good evening, ladies.” A tall, dark, and delicious-looking waiter with electric-blue eyes addresses us. I see Peetsa visibly perk up. In fact, he has the undivided attention of the whole table. “My name is Brandon and I will be taking care of you this evening. Can I—”
“Margarita, please.” I don’t even let him finish.
“Oh, that sounds good. I’ll have one too,” Sylvie says.
Apparently, it’s a lemming party, because everyone goes for the same drink. As Brandon saunters away, our entire table checks out his nice, tight black chinos.
“So how fun is this?” Peetsa addresses the group. They have found a round table for us so there will be no escaping the conversation. Despite my best efforts, I have ended up seated between Asami and Alison.
“Do you do a girls’ night all the time?” Peetsa is directing this at Asami and Alison. I’ve decided not to open my mouth until I’ve had some alcohol.
“No. It’s our first time. How about you guys?�
� Asami has a smile on her face. It’s like seeing a unicorn.
“Every couple of months Jen and I get together, but it’s fun to have more people this time.”
Peetsa is obviously forgetting the best part about girls’ night, which is talking about these very people!
To distract myself until the drinks arrive, I take out my phone and text Ron.
All good?
After a beat, he replies:
Yup
Is Max still sleeping? I continue.
Yup
His brevity is annoying. Luckily our cutie-pie waiter shows up with five margaritas. I drink mine in one gulp and order a second.
“We should order some appetizers,” Sylvie suggests.
“Do you know about our ten-dollar endless appetizers?” Brandon inquires with a flash of his perfect teeth. I’m betting he sells a lot more than apps with that smile.
“No, tell us about it.” Peetsa returns his smile and turns her ample boobs toward him. Jesus, P., keep it in your pants. But Brandon rolls with it. This isn’t his first Ladies’ Night.
“You order any appetizer for ten dollars and you get unlimited free refills.”
This sounds oddly familiar. It only takes me a moment to realize with a combination of horror and delight that I have a coupon for this! Mine will only be $5. Ron will be so happy.
“Let’s each order something and we can share,” Sylvie suggests. She just can’t stop being the PTA president no matter where she is. But it happens to be a good idea, so we order a carbo-loaded feast filled with all things crispy and deep-fried.
“To girls’ night out.” Peetsa raises her glass.
“To girls’ night out,” we all respond. I catch Alison Lody’s eye. She looks different. I’m about to ask if she has cut her hair when my phone rings. It’s home.
“Hey, what’s up?”
“Mommy?” a little voice croaks.
“Max! Sweetie, how are you feeling?”
“Where are you?”
“I’m out for dinner, but Daddy’s there.”
“Where?”
“He should be in the living room or the kitchen.”
“He’s not. I’m hungry.”
What the hell?
“Hang on, sweetie. I’ll find him.” I put my hand over my phone and tell Peetsa to call Ron’s cell immediately. She does it without question.
“Did you have a good sleep?” I ask my son.
“Yeah. Can you come home?”
Peetsa hands me her phone with a concerned look.
“Where are you?” I ask my husband.
“I’m home.” He sounds out of breath. “Where else would I be?”
“Well, Max is awake, and he can’t find you.”
“I’m in the basement on the treadmill.” He now sounds like he’s moving. “I had my headphones on.… Hey, buddy.”
I have one phone up to each ear and I can hear their reunion. I exhale, not realizing I had been holding my breath for the last two minutes.
“Are you okay?” I ask my son.
“Yeah,” he sniffs. “When are you coming home?”
“In a little while. Dad’s going to make you some soup—right, Dad?”
“I’m on it. How’s girls’ night?”
“I’ll tell you later.”
“Okay. Love you.”
“You too.”
When I hang up I see the whole table is staring at me. The appetizers have arrived, but no one is eating.
“Everything okay?” Peetsa asks.
“Oh! Yeah, sorry. Max woke up and couldn’t find Ron because he was in the basement with his headphones on.”
The group gives a collective groan. “Only a man would put headphones on when he’s looking after a sick kid,” Sylvie says.
“You were so calm!” Alison sounds impressed. “I would have been ripping his head off.”
I smile and lift my second margarita. “I credit this drink. To tequila, the soother of savage tempers.”
As we dig into our chicken wings and potato skins, my phone buzzes with a text.
Where’s the soup?
Seriously? I mean, how hard could he have looked?
In the pantry, on the second shelf to the left.
Do you heat it in a pot or the microwave?
Your choice.
Okay thanks. Have fun. We’re all good here.
I put my phone down and turn my attention to the table. The drinks have definitely lightened everyone up. We are starting to have some laughs, courtesy of Sylvie Pike, whose lips have been decidedly loosened. Forget Asami. This is the woman in the loop.
Beside me, Asami whispers, “Have you been thinking about our problem?”
“I have, and I really don’t want to trick them into coming home. They’re in their twenties. Let them figure it out for themselves. Hey, how did you and Alison end up going out together tonight?”
She shrugs. “We’ve met for coffee a few times and she suggested a night out. She’s single, you know.”
I nod. “I’ve always found her a bit … standoffish.” It’s the kindest word I can think of.
“She can be. But we have a lot in common.”
I frown. I can’t imagine what, except that I disliked each of them the first time I met them.
Young Brandon is back with more fried zucchini and spinach flatbread for us, along with more drinks. I watch Peetsa beckon him to her side.
“How old are you, doll?” she asks him with a come-hither lilt in her voice. I immediately look around the bar to find her a more age-appropriate target for her flirting.
“Twenty-two, ma’am.” Ouch. Calling a woman ma’am is the equivalent of giving her a cold shower. He may as well have called her grandma. Peetsa looks mortified.
“Hey, does anyone have an update on Mr. Green and Sherlay?” I want to change the subject pronto.
“They’ve had two dates,” Sylvie offers up with an eye roll. “Both times they went to the movies. She’s in love.”
“And what about him?” Peetsa asks.
“Jury’s still out.”
Sylvie continues with some details, but I’m distracted. My phone is buzzing again.
Do you know where the iPad is?
Middle drawer dining room sideboard.
And the extra paper towels?
I know I should ask why, but I don’t.
On the shelf above the washing machine.
Okay, thanks. Love you.
And right now I’m only fond of you, I think.
When I reenter the conversation, they have moved on to March break plans. Alison is talking about taking her kids to Aspen.
“That’s some pretty swanky skiing,” I tell her.
“Well, my ex-husband is paying, so screw him.”
“Nice guy, is he?”
Alison and Asami both chuckle. They obviously know something I don’t.
“Oh, yeah. He’s a real prince. Left me and two kids right after I finished chemo.”
“You have cancer?” I say this a bit too loudly. Fortunately, the ambient noise in the room swallows my voice.
“Had cancer, I hope,” she corrects me.
“What kind?” I almost whisper.
“Cervical.”
“I’m so sorry.” Maybe it’s the alcohol, but I’ve never said anything with more genuine empathy.
“It’s fine. Well, not fine, but it did help me realize what a dick I married.” I notice the others are lost in their own conversations, so I feel I can ask some details.
“How are you now?”
“Better.”
“When was your last treatment?”
“Coming up on sixteen months ago.”
My phone buzzes again but I ignore it.
“I just saw my mom go through it for breast cancer. It flattened her.”
She asks me a few questions about Kay’s recovery, and then I finally hear her story. Apparently, Trent Lody moved his family to KC from Dallas after landing a senior VP job at the shippin
g company YRC.
“He bought this huge house that was supposed to make us feel better about leaving Dallas.”
I’ve seen that house. It would have made me feel better.
“I got diagnosed about two months after we moved here. To his credit, he didn’t leave until I actually finished the chemo.”
“He’s such a giver,” I deadpan. My phone has buzzed twice more, so I apologize to Alison and take a look.
Where’s the Motrin?
Never mind, found it.
How much do I give?
I shake my head and type back, One teaspoon. Are you sure he needs it?
I look up at Alison. “I’m so sorry. Max is sick and apparently my husband is brand-new to our household and doesn’t know where anything is.”
My phone buzzes again.
Where’s the thermometer?
Top shelf medicine cabinet in our bathroom.
Are you having fun?
Yes. I really don’t get enough texting time with you.
Either I pissed him off or he gets the hint, because I don’t hear from him again. I turn back to Alison.
“So he left you. Did you have any idea?”
She shakes her head. “None. But I guess leaving had been his plan all along. I didn’t find out until later, but his mistress moved here too.”
“Why bother uprooting you at all if he was planning to leave?”
“The kids.” Alison shrugged. “He wanted them in the same city. So now I’m stuck here.” She looks sheepish. “Sorry. It’s a nice place, it’s just not home.”
I truly feel bad for her, and a little ashamed that I haven’t been nicer. My mother’s words come back to haunt me. I really do need to get over myself. If someone is being a bitch, chances are they have their reasons. And those reasons aren’t always apparent.
“What are you girls talking about?” Peetsa crouches down and sticks her face between our heads. I can tell she won’t be driving home tonight.
“I was just about to ask Alison if she wants to join the Holy Rollers at the Susan G. Komen Walk.” The look on Peetsa’s face is classic. To her credit, even in her drunken state, she manages to swallow her confusion at my sudden attitude change and says, “Definitely!”
I turn back to Alison. “A bunch of us are doing it with my mother,” I explain.
You've Been Volunteered Page 14