I look at the clock on the wall.
“Shit! I’ve gotta run. Carmen awaits.”
I can’t see her, but I know she just rolled her eyes.
“Don’t be a hater.” I grab my sneakers and start putting them on.
“Not a hater. Just … mystified. So not like you to be a groupie. Actually, I take that back. It’s just like you.”
“Exactly. What can I say? It’s my happy place.”
“Well, I’m glad you have one. I’ll talk to you in a few days.”
“Love you.”
“You too. Bye.”
* * *
I swear it’s as though my own words jinxed me. I actually had an “incident” at spin class today. I still don’t think I did anything wrong but apparently hair-pulling is a big no-no.
They have had to add a lot of bikes to the spin room because Carmen’s class has become so popular. As a result, the bikes are closer together than they used to be, so you have to be very aware of personal space. I had a bike right behind a tall millennial with super long hair, almost down to her butt. When the class started, she put it up in a high ponytail, which would have been fine if she wasn’t a head whipper. I was enjoying the class, so I didn’t say anything the first two times her ponytail hit me in the face during Bryan Adams’s “Summer of ’69.” The third time she whipped her head around, her hair flew into my mouth. This is not a pleasant experience when you are gasping for every breath and singing your heart out at the same time. So I grabbed her ponytail and gave it a yank.
Well, you’d think I’d tried to scalp her by the scream she gave.
“Oh my God! What are you doing?” she screeched loud enough to be heard above the music.
“Your hair keeps hitting my face!” I yelled back.
“Well, just let me know. You don’t have to pull my hair out!”
“I just pulled it a bit to get it out of my mouth.”
“What’s all the chatter, ladies?” Carmen asked through her microphone. Neither of us answered her, but we stopped arguing.
She got the class back on track, but, for the first time ever, I didn’t enjoy myself. After the stretch, the head whipper scurried over to Carmen and started whispering and pointing at me. Really? Are we in fifth grade? I walked up to them and halfheartedly apologized for the earlier disruption.
“Jen, do you know Beth?” Carmen asked.
“No, but I’m well acquainted with her hair.”
“See?” Beth whined.
“Did you really pull her hair?” Carmen was all business.
“Her ponytail kept hitting my face.”
“You didn’t have to yank it out of my head!” Beth exclaimed with a level of exaggeration that I usually associate with Max.
“I gave it a tiny tug,” I said to Carmen.
“Well, it hurt,” Beth informed me.
“Well, if it did, I’m sorry. Next time you might want to put it in a bun.” At this I turned and strode out of the room as gracefully as one can with cycling shoes on.
I was still brooding when I caught sight of TJ over by the dumbbells (how ironic). Vivs’s shrill warning to not say anything to him was loud and clear in my mind, but I headed in his direction anyway. The adrenaline was still pumping from my smackdown with Beth and I was raring for a confrontation. Besides, I just wanted to see how he would react to me. I still had my spin shoes on, which made me look like a lumbering ogre as I made my way to him.
“Hey, TJ.” I interrupted his biceps reps. He looked surprised but not ashamed of himself which is what I had been expecting to see. Just the fact that he’d slept with my daughter should have made him uncomfortable, but he smiled without a care in the world.
“What’s up, Jen? Haven’t seen you here in a while.”
“Well, maybe you’re just not looking for me.”
I let that linger in the air just long enough for him to feel uncomfortable.
Eventually he broke the silence. “Should I be looking for you?”
“I don’t know; should you?”
He looked genuinely confused at this point and I realized that what I was saying might be misconstrued as flirting. Big whoops.
“Well, I’ll start looking for you if you like.” He smiled and started pumping again.
This had become a very unsatisfying conversation, so I cut bait before I said something I regretted.
“Uh, that’s okay,” I mumbled and continued my graceless progress to the locker room.
19
* * *
To: Mrs. Randazzo’s Class
From: JDixon
Re: This and that
Date: 3/12
Hello, my lovelies,
Just wanted to get a bit of business out of the way before we all head off to parts unknown for spring break.
I need all permission forms for the class trip to Fort Osage in before March 15th. Many of you have already obliged, but the slowpokes are holding up the process. (I’m talking to you, Jackie Westman.) The trip happens the Tuesday we get back from break, so Razzi needs those forms. Ali Burgess, Mary Jo Baton, and the always popular Asami Chang are the lucky winners of a day with the kids, learning all about the olden days of the pioneers (or as Razzi calls it, high school).
Have a wonderful break! I know I will as I head to Sin City for a few days of complete debauchery (more like a lot of time at Circus Circus and the indoor amusement park).
Let it ride!
Jen
* * *
As I type the last lines I can’t help but think again about the night we finally told Max where we were going for spring break.
It was about a week ago. He had gone twelve whole days without saying or doing anything too obnoxious, so we decided to put him out of his misery. He had been asking endlessly why we weren’t going skiing for spring break like we always do. The main excuse I gave was that we couldn’t go anywhere because Sissy was having a baby. (That was a whole other conversation that had us trying to explain how there can be a mommy but not a daddy. Thank God I had Hunter’s two moms as my go-to example.)
We knew that telling Max we were going to Las Vegas wouldn’t really send him into a tizzy, so we worked on our presentation. We dressed up in American Ninja Warrior gear (well, workout clothes) and Ron created a mini obstacle course in the basement using a jump rope, the sofa cushions, and the treadmill. Laura, who has a bit of a ’tude about not being asked to go to Vegas with us, put her feelings aside to help. She blindfolded her brother, brought him downstairs, and uncovered his eyes to reveal the whole setup.
“Guess where we’re going for spring break?” I prompted him.
He looked around incredibly confused.
“Skiing?” he asked hopefully.
“Nope. Guess again.”
“Maxi, it’s somewhere I would love to go,” Laura hinted unhelpfully.
He looked at her and shrugged. “The gym?”
“Hey!” Laura gave his arm a light punch.
“I told you we should have put a sign up,” I said to Ron.
“Where are we going?” Max was getting frustrated.
“Watch me, buddy.” Ron started going through the “obstacle course” and Max gave it one more try.
“Camping?” he guessed with very little enthusiasm.
“Oh, just tell him!” Laura shouted. Ron jumped off the couch and yelled, “We’re going to see American Ninja Warrior!”
We all looked at Max expectantly and after two seconds of stunned silence he screamed “What?” and ran around in circles making incoherent noises. Anyone watching from the outside would have thought we had just set his bum on fire. He launched himself toward both of us with so much force he knocked me down.
“Thank you thank you thank you! Wait, where is it? Who’s going to be there? Will the California Kids be there? Are we going today?”
Ron tried to answer the barrage of questions—“It’s the semifinals in Las Vegas”—but Max wasn’t even listening.
“Will Drew Dresc
hel be there? Can I bring Draper? I gotta tell Zach T.” At this he ran upstairs and left us in sudden silence.
“Well, if he doesn’t want to go, I will,” Laura deadpanned.
She’s been a bit down in the dumps since she got home. Dr. Dale assured her that her UTI was not sexually transmitted, but Jeen suggested they take a break anyway. Since then she has been moping around the house making passive-aggressive comments about Vegas. I finally told her that, one, she had done enough traveling for the year and, two, I really needed her to stay and look after Vivs. The pregnancy is going well but I’m having anxiety about leaving her alone. With Laura checking in on her, I can relax a little. Laura grudgingly accepts this but still gets in a shot every now and then.
It certainly doesn’t help that Max has spent every meal filibustering about all the things he’s going to see and do, most of which fall under the category In Your Dreams.
“Graydon says you can try on Iron Man’s suit in Vegas. And Zach B. told me you can jump off the top of a really high building with a bungee cord.”
Laura rolls her eyes. “What a waste.”
“I think you have to be a little older for those things,” I tell him.
“Draper says he’s been to Vegas with his dad and there are girls who show their boobs all over the place.”
“Not the places we’re going, buddy,” Ron assures him.
“Good. Ain’t nobody got time for that,” Max informs us. Man, I really need to block YouTube on his iPad.
After dinner, Laura and I are in the kitchen cleaning up when she hits me with her latest random thought. “I think I’m going to find my own place.”
Don’t react, don’t react don’t react, I chant to myself.
“Oh really, sweetie? Why?”
She folds the dish towel she has been using and puts it on the counter.
“I think it’s time. You guys are great, but I kind of got used to being on my own in Europe. I’m feeling a bit under the microscope here.”
I have to tell you that this is laughable. She comes and goes as she pleases and she eats whatever she wants. I have not said word one about the fact that she hasn’t even looked for a job. Something occurs to me.
“Are you going to move in with Jeen?”
She snorts. It’s an incredibly unattractive sound.
“No. Definitely not. We’ve barely seen each other.”
“Do you have a place yet?” I’m continuing with the calm questions because at this point she clearly doesn’t have a plan, just a thought.
“No. I’ve been looking but everything around here is really expensive.”
No shit. I can’t believe she thinks she’ll get her first apartment in Overland Park. Try HUD housing, sweetheart.
“Well, let me know if I can do anything to help.” I fill my water glass and head into the living room to watch God knows what on Nickelodeon with Max. It’s clear to me she’ll be here for a while.
“Thanks, Mom.” Laura’s smile is so genuine, I feel guilty.
* * *
Today I have a checklist of about six billion things I need to do before we leave for Vegas. First on the list: stop exaggerating.
It’s a rainy, cold day so I pull my bright-yellow Gore-Tex rain jacket over my sweater and hustle out to the minivan. Kay and Ray top the list of people to see, so I drive to my old neighborhood.
Everything about my parents’ house says home to me. It’s not the house I grew up in, but it is the house I brought Vivs and Laura to when we came back from Europe and started living the normal years. As I pull into the driveway, I shake my head at the pig-shaped pink mailbox that my mother insisted on buying at the church craft fair a dozen years ago because Margaret Dugan’s “special” son made it. It’s actually pretty cute, even though the pig’s butt faces the road and you have to pull the tail to open it. It’s the only one of its kind in fancy Overland Park, if you can believe it! The house is a sharp-looking traditional two-story, painted dark gray with white trim. My father has always kept meticulous care of the lawn. “Just try to find a dandelion,” he is fond of saying to pretty much anyone.
I knock and then immediately use my key to get in. As I step into the foyer my nose flares in recognition. Kay and Ray’s house has always smelled like a combination of burnt toast, bleach, and Shalimar, my mother’s favorite perfume.
“Hello?” I yell, because yes, they are getting hard of hearing but also to preempt any potential embarrassing encounters.
“In here, sweetheart!” my mom yells back. I follow her voice to the kitchen. She and my father are sitting at the table eating something that looks like it might be shredded cardboard.
“Hi, guys. What’s for breakfast?”
“Muesli,” my father says, still chewing. Bits of cereal land like spittle on his lips and chin.
“For the fiber,” my mom adds as she hands him a napkin. “It doesn’t taste half bad with soy milk. Want some?” She lifts her bowl toward me.
“I’m good, thanks. I just came by to see if you need anything. Remember I leave tomorrow for spring break.”
“Vegas, baby!” For some reason my mom is very excited about this trip. “Jennifer, I’m going to give you one hundred dollars and I want you to go to the roulette wheel at the Mirage and bet the whole thing on black 22.”
I don’t know why I’m surprised. My mother has basically abandoned most of her previously held beliefs, including “No good ever comes from spending time in a casino.”
“Mom, I don’t know if I’m going to get to the Mirage.”
“Well, of course you will. Aren’t you going to take Max to see Siegfried and Ray?”
“It’s Roy, and they don’t do that act anymore since Roy got attacked by one of the white tigers.”
My father nods and Kay looks shocked. “Oh, that’s terrible! Is he all right?”
“I think he made a full recovery. Can’t I make your bet at another roulette table? Maybe the one in my hotel?”
“I suppose so.” She sighs. “I just always heard the Mirage is so elegant.”
“We’re staying at the Venetian, and it’s very elegant too.”
“Well, okay, I guess.” Defeated, she hands me a hundred-dollar bill. “Remember, black 22.”
I consider asking why this specific number, but I’ve got places to go, so I give them both a hug and remind them that Laura will be checking in every day.
“Will Vivs check in too? You know we haven’t seen her since the night Laura got home, remember, Ray?”
My father nods again.
We haven’t told my parents about Vivs’s pregnancy yet. I’m not sure how the news will be received.
“She’s been working crazy hours at Jenny Craig,” I fib. “I’m not sure she’ll have time. Love you guys!” I beat a hasty retreat out of the kitchen and ultimately the front door. I can’t wait until all this is out in the open.
* * *
After stopping at the dry cleaner to pick up my favorite summer dress, and the shoe repair guy to get my newly soled silver sandals—both of which I’m taking to Vegas—I pull into Peetsa’s driveway. I’m borrowing the sunhat her mother brought her from Italy that I have admired for years.
“Hey, come on in.” She answers the door in jeans and a cute blue sweater. I follow her to the kitchen, where she has a bunch of papers spread out around her laptop.
“Whatcha working on?” I help myself to a cup of coffee from her half-full pot.
“Ugh, my résumé. I’m going to try to find a job.”
“Huh. What are you thinking about?”
“Something in sales again.” Peetsa’s last job was selling cell phones, and Buddy always said she was really good at it.
“Can you go back to Verizon?”
“I’m hoping to try something new … maybe cars.”
“Cars! Do you know anything about them?”
She shrugs. “What’s to know? You read up on the product and sell the strengths.”
I try to imagine a beauti
ful, knowledgeable woman trying to sell me a car, and I find it doesn’t appeal to me. I picture that same woman selling to Ron, and I’m guessing he’d buy two.
“You’re going to be great.”
“I need an interview first.”
“I have no doubt you’ll get one. What’s going on with Buddy?”
She lets out a sigh and sits down at her table. I do the same.
“He’s living his life. I think he’s dating.” She shrugs, but the casualness of the gesture doesn’t reflect in her face. “We’re on this stupid schedule with the kids where we pass them back and forth twice a week. We all hate it, but what else can we do?”
“I read somewhere that the new trend in divorce is for the kids to stay in the family home and the parents move in and out.”
“Yeah, that’s not happening. Buddy wants to sell the house. That was this week’s bombshell.”
“What? Why?”
“He wants the money to buy a condo down by the Plaza, like where TJ lives.”
The mention of TJ makes my stomach turn. It also makes me debate telling her Vivs’s daddy dilemma. I figure what the hell. Misery loves company.
“Vivs’s baby might not be Raj’s.”
Peetsa starts to laugh, then stops. “Wait, seriously?”
I nod.
“Who else?”
“Well, apparently there are a few possibilities, including TJ.”
She gives me a blank look. “TJ who?”
“T-J.” I emphasize the initials.
“TJ! Eww … she slept with him? That guy sleeps with everyone!”
Hearing him described that way makes me want to throw up. I lean my head into my hands.
“Yuck,” Peetsa says to punctuate her feelings.
“You’re understating it,” I tell her.
“I know. I just don’t want to make you feel any worse.”
“She won’t know whose the baby is until it’s born. She says it doesn’t matter because she doesn’t want any of the guys in her life. She wants to raise it on her own.”
Peetsa shakes her head. “I knew Raj was on shaky ground, but wow. Are you okay?”
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