“That’s not the only reason to go see the bush doctor.”
“You’re kidding!” I said sarcastically. “I had no idea.”
“Pregnant.” Laura snorted. “Can you imagine having two daughters knocked up at the same time?”
“What?” I gave Laura a puzzled glance.
“What, what?” She jumped to her feet and smoothed out her clothes.
“What did you just say?” I clarified.
“Nothing. I was just saying wouldn’t it be funny if Vivs and I ever got pregnant at the same time. Boy, you’d have your hands full then, huh? I’m going to see if Nana needs help cleaning up.”
She dashed out the bedroom door and left me baffled. Vivs pregnant? Not a chance. I’d know if she was, wouldn’t I?
I debated storming downstairs and confronting her right then and there, but for once I kept a cool head and decided a private conversation was the smart play.
And that’s why I convinced Vivs to meet me for lunch and shopping on this unseasonably warm Saturday afternoon. I haven’t spent enough time with her lately to tell if she is hiding something. But one lap around Target and a pause by the women’s exercise clothing area (which just happens to be right beside the baby stuff) will tell me everything I need to know.
* * *
“Europe needs Target,” Laura announces as we walk into our favorite store. For those of you who have never been, it is one-stop shopping for all your life needs. Where else can you get eyeglasses, a shovel, and a Starbucks venti iced green tea? I would live here if they’d let me.
When Ron looks at the credit card bills, he always asks me, “What did you buy at Target?” To which I always reply, “What didn’t I buy at Target?”
I grab a shopping cart and we start walking through the women’s clothing section. Laura wasn’t originally supposed to come with Vivs and me, but I’m glad she did. Vivs was anything but chatty at lunch and has now settled into yet another mood.
Laura confided in me at breakfast that she thinks she may have gained a few pounds and needs some new clothes.
“Just some in-between clothes, until I lose the weight,” she added. “It was the chocolate. I couldn’t get enough of it.”
She strolls over to the sweatpants while Vivs looks at the graphic T-shirts and I decide to try on a few bathing suits. I’m joking.
I can’t wait to move on to the workout clothes. As I stroll ahead, I notice the maternity section. I totally forgot about this! They really have the cutest things these days. When I was pregnant with Vivs and Laura I basically wore sweatpants and an extra-large concert T-shirt. I linger and wait for Vivs to catch up. I want to see if she gives it a glance.
Laura lopes toward me with an armful of colorful clothing. “I may as well get underwear, too,” she says, dumping her new wardrobe in my shopping cart and moving on.
Vivs comes walking down the aisle with a blank expression on her face and nothing in her hands.
“Didn’t find anything?” I ask.
She scrunches her nose and shakes her head. “I’m so stuffed from lunch, I feel disgusting.”
“Are you sick?”
“I don’t think so. I always overeat at Chili’s.” She pats her stomach, which gives me an opportunity to stare. It looks like … she overate at Chili’s.
As we walk, Vivs asks what I think Laura is going to do now that she’s back.
“Hopefully find a job in her field.” I shrug, not sure what that field would be with a degree in art history. “Or she could work here. I’d love to get the employee discount.”
Vivs ignores my rambling and walks past the maternity clothes without a second look.
“Do you think my boobs got bigger?” Laura yells from the lingerie section. I’d be embarrassed, but hey, it’s Target. It’s like being in your living room.
“Definitely,” Vivs and I both holler back. We have arrived at the sportswear area and I like what I see, but Ron would kill me if I spent money on workout gear when I can get it for free at the store. Vivs is eyeing some colorful leggings.
“Those are cute,” I offer.
She shrugs and moves on. The moment of truth is almost upon us. Ten more steps and Vivs will be out of sportswear and into the cribs-and-bibs section.
“I’m going back to shoes for a minute,” Laura says, dropping a pile of bras and underwear in the cart.
“Did your feet get bigger too?” Vivs mumbles.
I walk ahead with my cart and linger by the baby area long enough for Vivs to catch up. I’m honestly surprised when she blows right by me and heads to the electronics section claiming to need new headphones. If she is pregnant, she’s doing a good job of hiding it. I feel like something would have come up either here or at lunch. I’m feeling lighter by the second. Thank God I didn’t confront her.
We finish our tour through Target, where I pick up all the store-brand items I need, do the self-checkout with the girls’ help, use the six coupons Ron left for me on the kitchen table, and get 5 percent off my purchase using my Target credit card. Boo-ya!
As we are walking out of the store, Vivs turns, gives me a funny look, then bolts toward the bathroom. She doesn’t quite make it to the door before she throws up Chili’s quesadillas all over the floor. As I run to her side, it’s all I can do not to scream, “Fuuuuuck!”
18
I know I shouldn’t be mentally bitching as I stand here on this freezing February afternoon watching Carlo and Abby perform their safety patrol duties with the enthusiasm of shift workers at the post office, but I can’t help it. It’s only been two weeks since the bake sale and this is my third stint honoring the raffle. Who knew I’d picked so many people whose assigned dates were for this month? And I have another one tomorrow! But I’m hoping against hope that the weatherman is right, and the storm of the century is coming later this evening. Lots of snow tonight means a possible snow day tomorrow, and that means no safety patrol!
The question is, am I feeling lucky? As I stamp my feet in an attempt to bring feeling back to them, I’d say the answer is … Not especially.
How did Shakespeare put it? “The sins of the father are to be laid upon the children.” Well, he got that right. Vivs, my darling show pony of a daughter, is not only pregnant, she isn’t sure who the father is. Sound familiar?
“Did I teach you nothing?” I lovingly screamed at her in the car on the way home from Target.
“Mom, stop!” both girls yelled back.
“No, I will not stop! Why did you guys hide this from me?”
“Gee, I can’t imagine,” Vivs drawled.
“You know this really hurts me, right?” I asked them.
“Why is this about you?” she snapped back.
Her lack of empathy is a very unattractive quality. I debated telling her this, but I was too upset.
“Because it is! I’m your mother.” (Oh God, I sound like Kay.) “I don’t understand why you wouldn’t tell me immediately.”
Silence.
Then finally, “Mom, I wanted to tell you, but I knew how pissed off you’d be at me. I mean, you expect this stuff from Laura—”
“Hey!” comes a voice from the back seat.
“—but not from me. And I know that.”
“Does Raj know?”
“I’m not sure he’s the father.”
This hits me like an anvil.
“Who else could it be?”
Silence.
We were at a stoplight, so I looked directly at her.
“Do I know him?”
She lowered her head and nodded.
“Who?” I demanded in my no-nonsense voice.
“Buddy Tucci.”
The car behind me honked, but I couldn’t move. I was frozen.
“Mom! I’m kidding!” Vivs yelled. “Cripes, move the car!” She started to laugh.
I went through the stoplight and pulled over to the side of the road. I could barely breathe.
“What kind of a sick joke is that?” I shrieked. I
looked in the back seat and Laura was suppressing a grin. “Oh, you find this funny too?”
“Mom, I’m sorry. You should see your face.”
“What the hell is wrong with the two of you? What could you possibly find funny about telling me you slept with my friend’s husband?” I was near tears.
Vivs stopped laughing. “Look, I was trying to think of the worst thing you could hear, so that when I tell you the truth it won’t seem so bad.”
I gripped the steering wheel and tried to calm myself down.
“Saying it was Buddy was my idea,” Laura chimed in.
“That’s nothing to be proud of,” I mumbled. But if I’m being honest, as diabolical ideas go it was kind of brilliant. The only thing worse would have been telling me it was Ron’s.
“Who’s the other possibility?” I asked, in a voice at least an octave lower than usual. I sounded like Gollum with a two-pack-a-day habit.
“There’s more than one.” She wasn’t proud to admit this.
I’m not a stupid woman, but her answer didn’t compute. “How is that even possible?”
“I’ve been dating around.”
“You mean sleeping around.” I hated the way I sounded but I couldn’t stop myself.
“Like mother, like daughter,” Vivs sniped.
“Hey.”
Silence hung like mud in the car’s atmosphere.
“How many possibilities are there?” My throat hurt from keeping my voice restrained.
“Four.”
“Please tell me Raj is one of them.”
“He is.” She sighed.
“Who else?”
“A couple of guys I met on Tinder.”
“Ew!” Laura chimed in from the back seat. “You didn’t tell me that.”
I swallowed a snarky comment and asked, “Anyone else?”
“TJ. From the gym.”
My reaction was visceral, and I had no way of hiding it.
“You didn’t use a condom with a sleaze like that?”
“I was drunk.” She shrugged.
“Oh, my God. What is the one thing I have always told you girls?”
“Being drunk is never an excuse for anything,” they answered in unison.
“Exactly. So please don’t use that as an excuse. Arrgghh! I can’t believe I have to see that guy at the gym.”
“Don’t say anything to him!” Vivs practically shattered my eardrums. I gave her my best dirty look.
“I mean it, Mom. Don’t.”
I closed my eyes and shook my head. Without saying another word, I put the minivan in drive and took us home all the while pondering where their empathy for me was.
* * *
Today, as I shiver along with the patrollers, I still find it hard to believe. Vivs is twelve weeks pregnant and is thinking about going it alone. TJ and the Tinder guys were one-night stands, and she and Raj are broken up. I want to tell her that a baby brings you closer together, but who am I kidding? A child puts more stress on a marriage than money troubles and snoring combined.
Abby’s voice pulls me out of my reverie. “We’re done, Mrs. Dixon.”
“Okay, let’s get you guys some hot chocolate.”
As we walk into the school, I notice the first snowflakes starting to fall. I take a breath and say a silent prayer to the weather gods. Mama needs a snow day.
* * *
When the phone rings at four a.m., I assume it’s the school’s robocall letting me know my prayers have been answered. I pick it up on the first ring, hoping nobody else wakes up, and am surprised to hear an actual human on the other end.
“Jen, it’s Sylvie.” She is speaking very quickly. “They’ve called a snow day but the school’s automatic alert system isn’t working so I need all the class moms to call their classes and let them know.”
My sleep-deprived brain catches only half of this. “Umm … okay. Now?”
“Yes, now. Thank you. I have other calls to make.” She hangs up.
I lie down and close my eyes. All I want is to go back to sleep, but I force myself to roll out of bed and lumber down to the kitchen, wishing to God a house elf would magically appear and hand me a cup of coffee. I fire up the iMac and pull up the class list. Nineteen calls to make. If I’m lucky I’ll be back at Club White Sheets in half an hour.
I decide to work in reverse alphabetical order. Why should those “A” people always be first? I dial the Zalis household. It rings five times before someone chokes out a “H’lo?”
“Hi, it’s Jen Dixon calling to let you know the school is closed today for a snow day,” I say with what I think is just the right amount of enthusiasm for 4:15 a.m.
“What?”
“It’s a snow day today.” I stifle a yawn. “School is closed. Let Rachel sleep in.”
“Why did you call?”
“To let you know.”
Click.
Okey-dokey. That went as expected. Next on the list is the Wolff house. The call goes straight to voicemail, so I leave a message there and on both their cell phones and hope they get it. May they all be this easy.
Mostly I get mumbled acknowledgments, but a few responses are quite exciting, like when I call the Westman house and Jackie’s husband growls, “Stop fucking calling me, Lorraine.”
“Sorry, it’s Jen Dixon from school. There’s a snow day today. Thanks, bye.” I get off as quick as I can. I don’t know who Lorraine is, but I feel bad for her.
When I call the Batons’ house, Jean-Luc picks up on the third ring.
“’Allo?”
“Hi. It’s Jen Dixon calling to let you know the school is closed today for a snow day.”
What follows is a polemic (word-a-day-calendar word!) en français that I imagine is telling me exactly where I can shove my snow day, followed by several graphic curse words and a slamming down of the phone. It sounds like Mary Jo has a little Ike Turner on her hands.
I’m surprised when Ravi picks up on the first ring. She answers the phone saying, “What’s wrong?”
“Hi. Nothing. Just wanted to let you know it’s a snow day. Why are you up?”
“I’m always up at four thirty.”
“Why?”
“Zach has early ice time three days a week.”
“Oh, right.” I silently thank God for the millionth time that Max doesn’t play hockey. “Well, hopefully you don’t have to go out today. Gotta go. Six more people to wake up.”
“K. Bye.”
Two rings at the Cobb house and then Graydon picks up and screams out an ear-splitting “Snow day!”
“Hi,” breathes one of Hunter’s moms on the second ring.
“Hi, it’s Jen Dixon calling to let you know the school is closed for a snow day.”
Nothing.
“Hello?”
Silence.
“Kim? Carol?”
Again, silence. And then, light snoring. Oh my God, she fell back to sleep! I’m not sure what to do. If I call back, I will only get a busy signal. I hang up and try both their cell phones, but they go directly to voicemail.
My last phone call turns out to be my favorite, for both its substance and its brevity. After four rings, JJ Aikins picks up. “Hello?”
“Hi, it’s Jen. The school is closed today because of the snow.”
A long pause and then JJ says simply, “No shit, Sherlock.”
I hang up and smile. My work here is done. I grab a glass of water and head back upstairs to hopefully get a few z’s.
* * *
“Are you okay?” That seems to be the question on everyone’s lips now that the news about Vivs is out. And it’s the first question my best friend asks when I pick up the phone this morning.
“Peachy. How are you?”
“Uh, worried about you. What’s the latest?”
I sigh and cradle the phone in my neck while I butter my toast.
“Nothing much to report. She’s a healthy fourteen weeks along. Still not really showing.”
“Huh. An
y news on the father?”
“She says it doesn’t matter because he won’t be in her life.”
“Well, it might matter to him!” Nina exclaims.
I take my toast and coffee and sit down at my kitchen-counter office.
“I agree. But she can’t actually know whose baby it is until it’s born, so she figures why put somebody through that for no reason.”
“What about an amnio?” Nina asks.
“Too risky,” I say with a mouthful of toast.
“Has she talked about where she’s going to live?”
“I mean, I assume she’s going to stay here where she has a support system.”
Nina starts to laugh. “Grandma Jen!”
“I know!” I groan. “I can’t believe it. What’s up with you?”
“All good here. Chyna’s going to try out for the lacrosse team. Most of her volleyball friends play, so she wants to do it with them.”
“That’s a tough sport.”
“I have a tough girl.”
“That you do. Any boyfriends?”
“None that I’m aware of. Although a kid named Kyle seems to text her a lot. She says they’re just friends.”
“How’s Garth?”
“He’s good. Starting to love his work, which is a nice change from hating it. He decided to create a city-wide school fitness competition. The winning school gets the Big Kahuna for a day.”
“Do I want to know what that is?”
“It’s a big blow-up water slide.”
“What do they have to do to get it?”
“They have to complete a bunch of school-wide fitness challenges like running around the track three times and going back and forth on the monkey bars for two minutes straight. There are twenty-five different challenges and all the able-bodied students in each school have to complete them.”
“What if you aren’t able-bodied?”
“You know Garth—everyone’s included. Special challenges will be designed for whatever a kid can do.”
“Well, that sounds pretty genius. Go, Garth.”
“Yeah, he’s psyched.”
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