You've Been Volunteered

by Laurie Gelman

  “Janine, we’re women of the world, so I’m going to ask you something straight up.”

  “Okay.” She smirks. I’m sure I sound like an idiot.

  “In Vegas, were you trying to get us to swing with you and Rolly?”

  “What?” She bursts out laughing.

  “Oh … I’m … I’m sorry…” I stumble.

  Then she continues: “You have to ask? Of course, we were.” She can’t stop howling.

  While she’s having a good old cackle about it, I feel less than satisfied. This should be my “I knew it” victory lap.

  “So, wait, stop laughing. Tell me what was going on. Did you really think we’d do it?”

  “Oh, who knows? This new, sober me is having a hard time processing the whole idea to begin with.”

  “So, it was more of an alcohol-induced notion?”

  “Uh, yeah.” She shakes her head and wipes the lingering sweat off her face. “Well, mostly. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think about it sober, but Rolly was a really hard sell. I think me talking about it that night at the restaurant is what gave him his heart attack.”

  “Do you think me sitting on his lap pushed him over the edge?”

  “Probably,” Janine deadpanned, then smiled when she saw the look on my face. “Jen, I’m kidding. His valves were clogging up for months. The doctor said it was just a matter of time.”

  The hum of the gym is all around us, but I feel like I’m alone in a cocoon with her.

  “What does Ron think?” Janine asks.

  “It never even occurred to him. He thinks I’m crazy.”

  “I figured.” She considers me for a moment. “Since we’re asking tough questions, I have one for you.”

  “Fire away.”

  “Are you guys only friends with us so Rolly will invest in your business?”

  “Oh my God, no! We love you guys.”

  She raises an eyebrow at me, so I backtrack a bit.

  “I mean, at first we thought, Hey, maybe they’d be good people to invest, but when that didn’t happen, we still loved spending time with you guys.”

  “And what about now that we’re not drinking?”

  I shrug. “I guess we’ll find out at dinner tonight. If it’s boring, you may have to consider going back on the booze.”

  “Definitely. To hell with my liver. Keeping you amused is priority numero uno.”

  We shower at the gym and head over to Minsky’s, our favorite pizza joint. I’m surprised when I first see Rolly—he’s much thinner and seems a bit frail. But his smile when he sees me shows the old Rolly is still there.

  “You look good, old man.” I give him a big hug.

  He blushes. “Thanks. You too.”

  They both hug Max warmly and insist that he sit between them. He’s happy to oblige.

  “So, what brings you guys to town—business?” I ask after we have ordered a couple of summer salads, a BBQ chicken pizza (low-sodium for Rolly), and a Papa Minsky.

  “Nope. We really just came to see you guys. I’m cutting way back on the business. Nate and Katie are taking over a lot of my duties, so I can lower my stress level.”

  Nate and Katie are two of his three kids. His third, Grant, is a lawyer.

  “I’m glad they’re stepping up for you.”

  “Oh, they’ve wanted to for quite a while. I’m still not ready to be put out to pasture, but I’m glad to hand some of the day-to-day headaches over to them.”

  “Isn’t your walk for breast cancer coming up?” Janine asks me. I can’t believe she remembers. It’s a good bet we were drunk when I told her about it.

  “Yes! Oh, God. It’s in less than two weeks. I still need to get sponsors. Anyone have twenty bucks they can spare?” I say this half jokingly, but I’m not at all surprised when Rolly takes up the torch.

  “I’d love to sponsor you! How about two hundred dollars?”

  “Oh, Rolly, that’s way too much. Really.” I can’t help but think that if he comes through, my fund-raising worries will be over.

  “Nonsense. It’s for a great cause. Where’s your donation page?”

  I text him the information and he nods to Janine. “Can you take care of this tomorrow, Tootsie?”

  “You bet.”

  “Thank you so much!” I’m always amazed by people who can just give this amount of money away without even thinking about it. Must be nice.

  My eyes meet Ron’s and I see a little sadness in them. I’m guessing he’s finally giving up on the idea of Rolly rescuing his business. I reach for his hand and give it a squeeze. I wish I could make it all right for him.

  * * *

  “So, are we in financial ruin?” I ask half joking as we drive home. Max has his headphones on, so it’s okay to talk.

  “Not quite. But my dream of being a yoga studio titan is fading fast.”

  “I’m sorry, babe.”

  “I still think it’s a good idea.”

  “Do you think he was ever considering investing?”

  “I really don’t know. He was so interested every time I talked about it, and he had great advice. But I called him the day the bank rejected me. If he wanted to invest, that would have been the time. I should have seen it then, but I wasn’t ready to give up hope.”

  “Maybe it’s for the best. No chance of ruining a good friendship.”

  23

  * * *

  To: Mrs. Randazzo’s Class

  From: JDixon

  Re: Bowling

  Date: 5/22

  Hey there, parents of almost fourth-graders!

  I wanted to give you a heads-up before we scatter for Memorial Day weekend that the third grade (yup, all of them) will be going bowling on Wednesday, May 26th. Why, you ask? Well, my best guess is that by then, Razzi will have run out of things to teach them and they’ll need something to do to kill time until the last day of school.

  Thanks to the Wolffs, who have connections at the bowling alley (I find it’s better not to ask), our babies will be able to bowl to their hearts’ content for the bargain basement price of $5 … shoes and snack included! They should bring the money with them on the morning of the trip and yes, Jackie, I will remind you again before the big day.

  So … who’s up for a nice quiet morning of bowling? I will be taking a hard pass on this one because this particular activity really isn’t up my alley. (Thank you, I’m here all week.) But we’ll need three volunteers and I’d like to see a dad or two step up to the plate for this final outing.

  While I have you, the end-of-year gift for Razzi is going to be unbreakable. Could you please ask your child to write down two things they loved the most about being in her class this year. They can feel free to get creative and draw a picture as well. Please have them do it on an 8½-by-11 piece of paper in portrait mode (aka the tall way, not the wide way). I need these ASAP. I know I should have asked a couple of weeks ago but truthfully, I forgot. So, for once my lack of planning becomes your urgent problem. Welcome to my world.

  Find me at pickup before the holiday weekend, and once I have them all, I will go to Staples and make some kind of book that she will no doubt treasure for the rest of her life.

  As always, response times blah blah blah …

  Jen

  * * *

  I can tell my enthusiasm for class mom-ing is waning in these final days of school. But I don’t feel too guilty. I’m whistling into the wind most of the time anyway.

  Big weekend ahead! The Susan G. Komen is this Sunday and, as luck would have it, Vivs and Laura are moving in together on Monday.

  “I can’t believe you found movers to work on Memorial Day,” I said when they told me.

  “We didn’t. We figured you guys would help, and maybe a couple of guys from the store.”

  I sighed and silently wished I lived on whatever planet my daughters do.

  “Ron would have to pay his guys time and a half to work a holiday, so you might want to hit up some of your guy friends to help with the heavy s
tuff.” They don’t really have that much to move, thank God.

  The phone rings and I see it’s my mother. My heart sinks. We finally told her about Vivs, and she has been calling me nonstop for days with all her “thoughts.” I brace myself for another fulmination (word-a-day-calendar word!).

  “Hi, Mom.”

  “Oh, Jennifer, I’m so glad you’re home.” Her voice sounds strained. “I have some terrible news.”

  “What is it?” I’ve gone from zero to full panic in record time.

  “Your aunt Barbara died.”

  “Oh!” I’m a little ashamed to admit that I’m relieved it isn’t my father. “How? When?”

  “Yesterday. She was coming out of a grocery store and just dropped dead. They said she had a brain hemorrhage.”

  “Oh my God, that’s awful. I’m so sorry. How did you find out?”

  “Her lawyer called your father. He’s listed as the next of kin. He’s very upset.”

  “I’m sure he is. Will there be a funeral?”

  “According to the lawyer, she didn’t want one. She probably didn’t want to spend the money. She’s being cremated and wants her ashes thrown into some volcano on Maui.”

  “Haleakala?”

  “That’s the one.”

  I decide not to share with my mother that Number 6 on my bucket list is to go to the top of Haleakala, before sunrise, and ride down on a bike. I read about it on a travel website years ago and it sounded amazing. Aunt Barbara sure knew how to go out in style.

  “So, the lawyer is going to call you. I guess Barb left you a little something in her will.”

  “Oh God, you don’t think it’s her cats, do you?”

  This actually makes my mother laugh. “I hope not, for your sake! No, it’s probably an old piece of jewelry or something.”

  “It doesn’t matter. I can’t believe she even thought of me. Hey, give my love to Dad and tell him I’ll call him later.”

  “I’m sure he’d like that. Bye.”

  * * *

  Sunday morning, I have a good carbo-loaded breakfast because I’ve decided to attempt the 5K run before I walk the mile with the Holy Rollers. Sign-in starts at two o’clock down at the Black & Veatch headquarters, so I spend my morning doing light stretches and getting my head in the game, as Garth would say. He, Nina, and Chyna arrived yesterday morning and it feels like old times. Nina and the suddenly tall and gorgeous Chyna have raised a combined total of $1,638. They’ll be doing the walk; Garth is going to run with me.

  We all head over to the registration table on Lemar and are greeted by a sea of pink. People from all over KC are sporting vibrant pink T-shirts with various logos on them—a team name or some kind of F U to cancer. Tears spring to my eyes at the sight of so many women and men coming out in support of ending this horrible disease that nearly took my mom.

  It’s warmer than usual for this time of year so I peel off my favorite Lululemon jacket to reveal the light-pink team T-shirt my mother had made for all of us. On the front, “Holy Rollers” is superimposed in white over a dark-pink awareness ribbon. On the back it says, “Even the Hand of God Is Giving Cancer the Finger.”

  After we register, we find our group and there are a ton of hugs, mostly for Nina and Chyna. We have quite an impressive group. With my crew, plus Peetsa, Ravi, Asami, and Alison from school and all of mom’s chemo-sabes and church friends, the Holy Rollers are twenty-five strong and have raised almost $16,000. The power of kindness never ceases to amaze me. Fresh tears start streaming down my face.

  “Are you okay?” Laura puts her arm around me.

  “Yes, baby, thank you. It’s just all a little overwhelming, isn’t it?”

  “I can’t believe how many people are still affected by breast cancer. You’d think they’d find a cure.”

  “They’re trying.”

  “Ready to do this?” Garth approaches me, decked out in his running shorts and pink T-shirt. He looks like he’s gained a bit of weight. I guess the desk job doesn’t give him as much time to exercise.

  “Let’s go.” I kiss Laura. “See you at the walk.”

  “Don’t let me slow you down,” I tell Garth as we join everyone at the starting line.

  “I’m here to run with you, not make the time trials. Having any mud run flashbacks?”

  “You and me at the starting line … absolutely. Good times.”

  Over the loudspeaker, the announcer says that the timed runners should get to the front.

  “No thank you,” I tell no one in particular. Garth laughs.

  Soon enough the untimed runners are encouraged to get under way. To my surprise, Alison shows up by my side, with tears in her eyes.

  “There was a time I couldn’t imagine I’d be running anywhere, let alone something like this.”

  I take her hand. “I’m so glad you are.”

  “Are you guys ready?” Garth asks. He taps his Fitbit and off we go!

  I haven’t run since I started spinning and I quickly remember why, because my left knee starts to twinge after the first kilometer. Damn it! I say nothing and work through the pain. The good news is my cardio is strong. At least I’m not out of breath. But by the fourth kilometer Alison has pulled ahead, so I tell Garth my knee is hurting, and he makes me walk the last part of the run. I’m not alone. Lots of ambitious souls are taking it easy on the final stretch; however, I think most of them are survivors. I have no such excuse.

  I suck it up long enough to jog across the finish line and give Garth a high five. He hasn’t even broken a sweat. The Holy Rollers are waiting for us.

  “Good job, guys!” Nina enthuses.

  I start my excuses before anyone even asks. “My knee gave out.”

  Max and Ron come over and hand me water. The walk is about to begin, and hundreds of people are gathering to listen to instructions and get some inspiration.

  As the sea of pink starts to move, I find myself beside Peetsa. I haven’t seen much of her since she started her new job selling Hyundais. I put my arm through hers and thank her for coming.

  “Are you kidding? I’d do anything for you. And who knows, I might meet a guy here.”

  “Yes, a breast cancer walk really is the place. Good thinking.”

  “Did I tell you I had a date?”

  “What? No, you did not!! What the hell?”

  She laughs. “I love telling you things. You are the best audience in the world.”

  “Well, tell me about this, please!” I practically shout.

  “I can tell you it was epically bad. And if this is what dating is like these days, I’m going to die alone.”

  “What happened?”

  She lets out a frustrated growl. “I met him when I went to get an outdoor light fixture at Home Depot. I thought he worked there because he was so helpful, but it turned out he was just picking up mulch and I caught his eye.”

  “Continue,” I encourage her.

  “We had a good laugh about me thinking he was a salesman and ended up having a soda at the little snack shack. His name is Dave; he’s divorced and has two sons, both in high school.”

  “So far so good.”

  “That’s what I thought, but then—”

  At this moment women all around us start chanting, “Cancel Cancer! Cancel Cancer!” so loudly that we have to stop talking. I’m dying to hear about her date, but it can wait. We raise our voices and join in. I catch up to my mother and settle in beside her. She is glowing. This is Kay in her element. Not only helping people, but leading others to help as well.

  I put my mouth right to her ear. “Congratulations, Mom. This is a big hit!”

  “Thank you for all your help, sweetheart. I’m really proud of you. Between this and what you did for Mitch, I feel like you’re really getting the hang of it.”

  “Of what?” I yell.

  “Of caring,” she says simply, and squeezes my hand.

  * * *

  The after-party, if you will, is at my house. Everyone has chipped in and we
’re having a big barbecue, with Ron as grill master. People are eating the dogs and burgers as fast as he can crank them out.

  I finally corner Peetsa and ask her to finish her story.

  “So, he asks me out for the next Friday—two days ago,” she continues as we settle into lawn chairs. “I didn’t want him to know where I live yet, so I said I’d meet him at the restaurant.”

  “Where?”

  “Outback Steakhouse.”

  “Okay, not bad.”

  “He’s thirty minutes late.”

  “Okay, bad. Did he say why?”

  “He blamed the traffic.” She shrugs.

  “Could be true.”

  “Right, so I don’t give him any attitude. I’d already ordered a glass of wine and I was relaxed, so whatever, right?”

  “Good,” I tell her.

  “He asks me if I have a drinking problem.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Ya. He’s like”—she lowers her voice—“‘You couldn’t wait for me before you ordered a drink?’ I told him I waited fifteen minutes and then felt like an idiot sitting at the table alone.”

  “Right. Of course you ordered a drink.”

  “Then he was like, ‘My ex-wife is an alcoholic, so if you’ve got any of that going on the date ends now.’”

  “You’re lying.” My eyes are about to pop out of my head.

  “I wish I were. I threw my wine in his face and walked out.”

  “You did not!”

  “No, I didn’t, but I thought about it.”

  We are both laughing when Ron interrupts us and hands me my phone. “It’s ringing,” he tells me.

  “Shit! Sorry.” Annoyed, I look at the phone and some weird number is on the screen.

  “Hello?” I stick my finger in my ear, so I can hear properly.

  “Jennifer Dixon?”

  “Yes.”

  “My name is Kale Ho. I’m the executor for Barbara Howard’s estate.” He sounds like a radio announcer for a funeral home.

  “Oh! Hello.” I move toward a quiet corner of the backyard. “My mother said you’d be calling.”

  “I’m sorry to bother you on a long weekend, but I just wanted to touch base. I’m very sorry for your loss.”