Don't Rhine on My Parade

by Erin Evans

  Chapter Five

  Later that evening, I was standing out in the front yard waiting for Harvey to pee. Sometimes I just put him out the back door, but lately he had taken to staying out all night, and it took quite a yelling before I would give up and just use the Voice to command him back in. I never wanted to do it, always sure that this time he would obey on his own. But when you’re black and weigh twelve pounds it’s real easy to hide in a dark backyard.

  He loved chasing frogs, which was fine with me. What I didn’t appreciate was that, if left out at night, he wanted to come inside at 5:30 in the morning. He would sit at the sliding glass door and yip and howl until I gave up and let him in, thus training him that obnoxious behavior is rewarded.

  So, until I came up with a better plan, I was walking him out the front, where I could keep an eye on him, and crating him at night. I felt a little guilty about locking him up all night, even though all the dog books say that dogs view their crate as their den. If that was true, the words “den” and “iron maiden” were synonymous in Harvey’s mind. Tough luck for him. I had no desire to wake up in the morning and find a puddle of dog pee on the floor.

  For some reason, it was always Mark who would step in it and then there would be trouble. I think Mark has a talent for stepping on disgusting things in the middle of the night. Otis could hack up multiple hairballs in the middle of the path to the bathroom and I wouldn’t step on a one. But if Mark got up to go to the bathroom, there would be yelling, swearing, and talk of canvas bags, bricks, and lakes.

  “Hi, Piper!”

  I about jumped out of my skin, my heart leaping into my throat. Somehow I had failed to notice the approach of my new next-door neighbor. She was standing about six feet away, her welcoming smile quickly turning to an apologetic grimace.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sneak up on you!” She was tall, about five foot eight or nine, very slender, with curves in all the right places, pale skin, and dark, almost blue black hair. In the light from the street lamp her face seemed to glow like moonlight.

  My heart gradually returned to its proper place, “Wow. You really scared me!”

  Harvey started to growl. “Harvey!” I jerked his leash. “Cut that out! I’m sorry; he’s never done this before.”

  Cecily took a step back. “It’s okay, I must have startled him too.” She bent down and held her hand out. Harvey took a couple of stiff steps forward, every wiry hair standing straight out and his lips pulled back to show his teeth. I heard a growl begin in his throat so I jerked his leash again. What had gotten into the idiot?

  “Be nice, Harvey!” I commanded with all the power I could put into the Voice. The last thing I needed was to be sued by my neighbor for a dog bite.

  Cecily started a little at my loud voice but held her position until Harvey obediently sniffed her hand and then wagged his tail. She looked up at me with a grin, “Dogs don’t usually like me!”

  Harvey, having now decided that she was a friend, took that moment to jump up and lick her on the mouth.

  “Oh!” She tried to jump back but wound up falling on her rear.

  “I’m sorry!” I helped her up. “He’s usually very friendly; he must be out of sorts this evening.”

  “Don’t worry about it. He’s adorable.”

  The quickest way into my friendship is to praise my animals or my children. Cecily was on the right path. “I saw you out here and thought I would come over and chat. I don’t see many people in the neighborhood, working the night shift like I do.”

  “Yeah, I guess not. So, how is the moving in going?”

  “Pretty good, I’ve got everything unpacked; now I just have to figure out where it all goes.”

  “Where did you move from?” I asked, curious.

  Cecily laughed, “Actually, I was renting a couple streets over. I like the area, since it’s close to the hospital, and when this place came on the market, it was perfect!”

  “Well, welcome to the neighborhood. We’d love to have you over for dinner some night when you’re free.”

  Cecily looked surprised. I guess her old neighbors hadn’t been very friendly. “Sure,” she said with a slow smile. “That would be great. I’ll let you know how my schedule goes.” Her eyes glittered with some emotion I couldn’t place.

  I felt a shiver go down my spine, “I’d better head back in before Mark sends out the bloodhounds.”

  She bent down again and ruffled Harvey’s ears. “It was nice talking to you, Piper. See you around.”

  My feeling of unease disappeared. I must be hormonal. She was just a little lonely and reaching out for a friend. I smiled, “Have a good night! Talk to you later!” and dragged a reluctant Harvey back inside.

  The next day we were pretty much right on schedule. The girls woke us up fighting over who got to wear a princess crown. Yes, there were two crowns that, to the adult eye, were exactly alike, but they both wanted the same one.

  Cassidy threw a fit about her clothing, wanting to wear the Cinderella shirt she’d hated the day before. Breakfast wasn’t pancakes, they pointed out, and pancakes were their favorite. And then they were off like a shot to play while I tried to clean up the kitchen and the house.

  Contrary to Carolyn’s beliefs, I do try to keep a neat house. I have a morbid fear of letting everything go and not realizing it. My mother installed this phobia in me at a young age. “Brush your hair and put on lipstick before you go out! You’re too young to be letting yourself go!” she would say. As I got older she still insisted on the personal care, but also moved on to greater things, “Clean this bathroom, Piper! What if someone came in and saw it like this? What would they think of you?”

  To this day, whenever my house is a wreck, I’m afraid that the Surprise Critic Squad is going to drop by, see my mess, and think horrible thoughts about me. Or, far more likely in my case, my own personal critic, my mother-in-law, will drop by for an unannounced visit and say horrible things to me. Oh wait, that already happened this week.

  I was blasting some Ella Fitzgerald, singing at the top of my lungs, and vacuuming around the toys on the floor, when I noticed Megan standing in front of me with her mouth moving.

  “What is it, baby?” I asked, turning off the music and the vacuum.

  “Cassidy says it’s too loud,” she announced.

  I frowned at Cassie, sitting peacefully on the couch. “It’s not too loud.”

  She looked up from her book. “Too youd,” she agreed.

  “Okay, it’s too loud. Let me finish and then it will be quiet again.”

  “ead a ook?” Cassidy asked.

  “Read a book to you?” I tried to translate.

  “Yes!” Megan cheered, “We’d love for you to read us a book! Thanks, Mom!”

  I laughed, “That gets me every time. Okay. One book, and then Mommy has to finish cleaning.”

  “Ganny says ouse dirty,” Cassidy announced.

  My eyes narrowed and a bit of steam escaped my ears. “Oh she does, does she? Humph.”

  “Granny brings us the bestest presents and snacks, doesn’t she, Mom?” Megan said lovingly. How was I to argue with that? I’m not completely evil. I want my daughters to have a great relationship with their grandmother. I just wish it was a little easier for me.

  “Yes, honey. Granny is wonderful. Here, let’s pick a book.” One book became two, and then three, when the phone rang. It was my mom. My first thought was that she was psychic and calling to make sure I finished my chores before I played. Childhood programming is a scary thing.

  “Hi, Mom!” I answered the phone, “I’m just cleaning house here.” I wanted to make sure that she knew I was a responsible adult.

  “That’s nice dear,” she responded. “How are my little angels?” The children in question were fighting tug-of-war style over the library book we’d been reading. I tried to separate them quietly. “Is everything okay over there?” My mom sounded worried, “I hear screaming!”

  “Yup
,” I panted, hiking Cassidy up under my arm and pointing with all the sternness I could manage for Megan to sit in the time-out chair. Cassidy flailed her arms, whacking the phone out of my hand and halfway across the room. I plopped her on the couch and mouthed “Time Out” before retrieving the phone.

  “. . . I’m just so excited! It’s going to be lovely!” My mom was just finishing.

  “What’s going to be lovely?” I asked.

  “Piper,” my mother was exasperated. “Haven’t you been listening?”

  “I dropped the phone.”

  “Oh. Well. What was the last thing you heard?” she asked practically.

  “You heard screaming.”

  “Oh. Right. Are you sure everything is okay?”

  “Yes, Mom,” I sighed. “I was just administering the girls’ daily beating.” I glared at the two of them as Megan slowly put down the toy she had been preparing to throw at Cassidy’s head.

  “One of those days, huh?” my mom laughed. Since my youngest sister had only just turned sixteen, she still remembered what parenting small children was like.

  I flopped on the couch next to Cassidy. “You could say that. What’s up?”

  “Now Piper, you have to treasure these years,” my mother admonished. “Pretty soon, they will be all grown up and you will look back and miss these times.”

  “I’d love to be looking back,” I muttered, ruffling Cassie’s hair and planting a kiss on her forehead.

  “What was that?”

  “Nothing! What were you calling about?”

  “Oh! What was I calling about? Oh, I remember. You keeping an eye on your sister.”

  “What?”

  “Karen’s having an art show.”

  I was still lost. Karen was my older sister, who lived in L.A. and was an artist. “You want me to watch her art show?” That still didn’t make sense.

  “No, silly. Sarah. Oh bother it all, Piper. I told it to you perfectly before, you just weren’t listening.”

  I took a deep breath and pointed ‘Down’ to Megan who was trying to stand on her head in the time-out chair. Cassidy snuggled up close to me and smiled beatifically at her sister. “Start at the beginning again, Mom.”

  “Okay.” She sighed. “Karen called last night.”

  “Really?” I interrupted. “How’s she doing?”

  “Piper! I’m trying to tell you. Quit interrupting or we’ll never get through this. Now, where was I? Oh yes, Karen called; she’s having an art show and apparently it’s a pretty big deal and she would like your father and me to fly out to see it!”

  “Oh.” I didn’t know what to say. Part of me was happy for my big sis, whom I love very much. Another part of me, the selfish part, okay, the biggest part of me, was jealous that, one: I couldn’t go, and two: I would lose a babysitter and someone to vent to if Carolyn got too bad. “How long are you going for?”

  My mom laughed excitedly, “That’s the best part! I talked to your father and we’re going to go for two weeks! Isn’t it wonderful! I’ve never been to California!”

  Two weeks! My heart sank but I tried to be cheerful and supportive. “Do you really think you should be leaving Sarah for that long?” I asked.

  “Don’t be silly, Piper! She’ll be fine. Besides, you’re going to check in on her every day to make sure she is.”

  Great. Sarah would love that. Not to mention that my supervision would most likely wind up being as effective as a camera in a car crash. I wouldn’t be able to stop any disasters, but I could accurately relate what had happened to my mom when she got home.

  Now, don’t get me wrong. I love my little sister. We all do, and that’s perhaps the problem. We spoiled her rotten. When I was sixteen, she was six, and my older siblings and I adored her. We did her chores, cleaned up her messes and encouraged her in whatever she wanted to do. Small wonder she turned out lazy, irresponsible, and wild.

  Of course I would never say these things to my mother. She firmly believed that she had raised Sarah exactly the same way she raised Karen, Jacob, and me. She said we had all gone through some rebellious spots and that we needed to give Sarah a little more leeway. Ha. I had never been that wild. Except for my freshman year of college, and my mom didn’t know about that, so it didn’t count.

  “Piper? Are you still there?” came the voice from the phone. Ooops. I must have spent a little too long on memory lane.

  “Yeah, I’m here. I was just thinking about Sarah.”

  “You worry too much, Piper! Sarah is thrilled to stay home alone for so long and she has agreed to run any parties or get-togethers past you first.”

  Double great. I could see it already. Sarah was setting me up as her fall guy. ‘But Piper said it was okay!’

  “Besides,” Mom continued, “there’s more! Now don’t tell Karen I told you this . . .” I had to snicker. My family is completely incapable of keeping a secret. We preface everything with ‘don’t tell anyone,’ knowing full well that when we hear those words we think it’s okay to tell someone else as long as we preface it with ‘don’t tell anyone.’

  “I had to read between the lines, but . . .” my mom paused for dramatic effect. “I think she has a boyfriend!” her voice went higher with excitement. She has been trying to marry Karen off since, well, since before I got married. Karen was still waiting for Mr. Right and my mom firmly believed that she was being too picky and should settle for Mr. Okay. Anything to get more grandchildren.

  “Are you sure, Mom?” I asked. Karen was notoriously secretive about her dating and I had a hard time believing that she had hinted at a relationship.

  “Positive!” she trilled. “She said she had someone special for us to meet! Oh Piper, it’s just so exciting! What do you think about a pale green with pink sashes?”

  “What?”

  “Bridesmaid dresses of course!”

  I snorted. “Ooookay, Mom. You enjoy your little warp jump to the planet of conclusions. Do not drag me into it. If Karen wants to talk to me about it, then I will start penciling dates on the calendar.”

  “Do you think it’s too early to reserve the church?”

  “Yes! Mom! Get a grip. Maybe she wants you to meet her new puppy!”

  “You are such a spoilsport. Fine. I have to go. Talk to you later!”

  “Can I get up now, Mom?” Megan asked. I held out my arms and she joined Cassidy and me on the couch. They both gave me big hugs and kisses and snuggled up on either side. I smiled. Maybe these were the best years. I didn’t even want to think about either one of them getting married.

  I sat and argued with myself for a moment. Of course I lost. I was fighting against heredity. I hit speed dial and waited for the phone to ring. Karen didn’t answer so I left her a message. “Hey sis, Mom just called. Umm, sounds like a fun trip. Congrats on the big art show … give me a call.” I’d have to warn her about Mom’s wedding planning later.

  Cassidy took that moment to yank Megan’s hair and they both leaped off the couch, Megan chasing Cassie with murder in her eyes. By the time I finished the housework, which took twice as long as usual, since I had to stop every two minutes and break up a new fight, I was thinking fondly of empty nests.

  Their behavior got progressively worse as the day went on. By lunch time I was almost screaming, and nap time was a total bust. They both refused to lie down and when I eventually let them up, I was a wreck. The hours seemed to drag by waiting for Mark to get home. When Cassidy managed to unscrew the top of her juice cup and dump it all over my newly mopped floor, I decided it was time to go play outside.

  “Who wants to ride bikes in the driveway and wait for Daddy?” I took the shrieking and jumping up and down as affirmation and herded them out the front door.

  We live in a rather quiet neighborhood so I felt pretty safe sitting on the ground and letting them ride circles around me on their trikes. Harvey was busy exploring the front bushes, trying to catch a lizard, and even Otis came out to lay down by the front door. There was e
nough cloud cover and it was late enough in the day that the temperature was pleasant instead of the typical blistering Florida heat. The lack of nap was making me drowsy and I lay back for a second on the sun warmed concrete.

  That’s when I heard the heavy ‘whoomp’ of a subwoofer and the screech of tires as a car came careening at high speed around the corner. Every mom knows that feeling of panic as you look around to make sure your kids are nowhere near the street. Megan was just pedaling around the top of the driveway near the garage, but Cassidy was headed straight for the road.

  “Stop, Cassidy!” I yelled leaping to my feet and she looked over her shoulder and laughed, thinking that I was chasing her. She pedaled even faster in a straight collision course with the oncoming car, still looking over her shoulder at me. I caught a glimpse of the face behind the steering wheel. The car swerved even closer to the curb.

  “Cassidy, stop!” I was commanding a human being for the first time in six years. She braked just as her front tire dipped into the gutter and the car sped by inches in front of her. The noise and wind scared her and she started to cry. I was already beside her and scooping her up in my arms before she opened her mouth. My heart was racing, my mouth was dry, and I felt like I could throw up.

  “Shhh, it’s okay, baby. Mommy’s got you.” She was feeding off my fear and becoming hysterical. “Calm down,” I commanded without even realizing it. She instantly stilled and hid her face in my shoulder.

  I was in shock, afraid to open my mouth again. I wished there was someone to command me to be calm. Having your child almost killed before your eyes is bad enough. Recognizing the person who intentionally tried to do it . . . much worse.