Bad Day, Acapulco Anyone?

At three in the morning Janice, my youngest, came into my room lugging a teddy bear almost as big as her. A bad dream, I thought.

“Mommy, I cold.”

The heating unit had went out and soon the thumb-sucker, the forward and goalie of the Boston Nor’easters, and Zippy the dog slumbered in a heap in front of the fire place. Janice laid there like a chubby-face cherub with bolts of thick golden spun, the only one of my children that got their Dad’s hair. The boys, strawberry blondes, and Susan looks so much like me, the government might investigate me for cloning. Too mature for a family campout, she decided to brave the Siberian Tundra called the rest of the house.

I felt guilty. My room had the only fireplace, and while I dreamt of cabana boys in Acapulco, these little guys almost shivered the freckles off their faces. Dale and Dallas, my twins, snored just like their Dad and I found myself being lulled to sleep by their synchronized sighs and whistles. I’d make it up to them in the morning with homemade waffles.

The Boston Philharmonics’ rendition of Arabesque in C minor woke me, but the pile of humanity at the foot of my bed didn’t stir. I almost forgot to step over them. I trudged to my black and gold night stand on the opposite side of the room and turned off my alarm clock. This was the evil little trick I played on myself to lower the chances of me hitting the snooze button and seeing more of Acapulco. Wrapped in my white bathrobe, I stepped onto my snow-covered balcony to retrieve the paper. After months of trying, I managed to get Javier, the paperboy, to throw it up here. While his bag tying remained something needing improvement, I enjoyed not going to the curb to get a soggy newspaper.

This morning, like many others as of late, presented beautiful colors, but I watched with uncertainty of what those hues would bring. Clouds rolled in from the ocean in massive folds with enough space between them and the horizon to gather up all the sunrise’s yellows, reds, and purples and spread them down the snowy townhouse roofs that lined our block.

It was a shame they were attached homes. Each unit was large enough to qualify for its own zip code. The decision the architects made about touching balconies spoke of the odd features of the homes. The cobblestone walkways and stone masonry presented questions too, not because of the quality, but because I couldn’t find that kind of skilled labor in the cost of my home. I had been told, more than once, not to look a gift horse in the mouth.

The maples’ stubborn brown leaves, far past their usefulness, refused to fall and limed in thin glistening frost, stood still as did the rest of the world, cradled in the day after Christmas hush. Even the snow on the street laid undisturbed except for the footsteps of my neighbor Stan. While warming up his car he made grey plumes that drifted up to me. If I hurried I could get the paper without him seeing me in my crypt-keeper look. I scooped up the Herald to find Javier did not intend to disappoint me, the paper, sopping as a mangy mutt begging at the door.

Thoughtlessly, I stepped into the shower. While I don’t understand the intricate underpinnings of shrinkage, other than what my ex-husband painfully explained to my co-workers while drunk at a corporate picnic, I know there is nothing like a shot of ultra frigid water to make every inch of someone’s anatomy stand on end. At least the pipes didn’t freeze, I thought.

Last night I managed to clean and organize the living room, though it never really got out of hand. The kids know I save Christmas paper and it lay folded in neat squares on the black leather couches. The only one who doesn’t get the concept yet is Janice, who tore through the large purple box like a rabid cookie monster searching for Milanos. When she pulled the giant teddy bear from the box, her other presents got ignored and there they sit under the frosted white Christmas tree with red bulbs, waiting for her to get curious enough to open them.

I knew Susan sat at the kitchen table eating cereal from the rim shot she gave the bowl and the constant clicking of her new smart phone.

“Good Morning.”

“Morning.” She never looked up from her phone and crammed a large spoonful of Cap’t Crunch in her mouth.

“I’m making waffles if you want some?”

Clickety-click-click-clickety-click. Ding! She was not a morning person, just like her Dad, but I decided to try again. “I’m making waffles this morning.”

“Oh, uh, I won’t be that hungry.”

“Ok suit yourself.” That hungry, I thought. I’d watched the girl pack away two double cheeseburgers, two whoppers and not flinch. She had grown into the very image of me, but sickeningly, she never gained any weight just like her father. Whether out of sheer capriciousness or some deep-rooted motherly urge to nurture my offspring, I moved one of her brunette bangs and kissed her forehead. She only slightly moved away because my robe blocked her phone’s screen. Clickety-click-click.

With the heating unit relit hot water returned. Zippy’s late night trip to the backyard must have blown out the pilot light. I still don’t understand my ex’s ingenious reason for putting a dog-door so close to the hot water unit. Probably was along the same line of thought as training a Scottish-Terrier to bring him a Budweiser 1/8 the dog’s weight – pure laziness.

I put the finishing touches on my roast and when the batter hit the waffle iron the quarrelsome quartet came tumbling down the stairs. The boys jumped into the chairs so fast they tipped onto two legs then settled back down on all four. Janice came to the table next. She, in this independent stage of hers, won’t let anyone help her into her chair, nor cut the huge purple bow off her teddy bear, which she still had in tow. I just stood by the chair, listening to her diaper crinkling efforts, in case she lost her balance.

Susan looked up from her phone and noticed my prep-work.

“Why are you making a roast, we still have leftovers?”

Wow, a spark of interest outside the world of twitter! “I’m having a friend come by later, remember?”

“Oh – yeah.” Clickety-click-click.

After the little ones where fed, I asked Susan if she’d give Janice a bath while I got a hot shower myself. She gave and irritated sigh and called for Janice who came crash-hugging her leg. Weirder and weirder, I thought. The only things closer than those two are ambulances and vulture insurance agents. Susan would tell Janice all her little secrets, mostly because she hadn’t developed the ability to blab yet. They could be gabbing away and as soon as I’d walk into the room they’d hush, one because of my presence, the other as if she had understood the weightiness of the conversation. If something were to happen to me, I know Susan would take care of my Janice. The boys though were another matter. The more I thought about it, the more I realized Susan had been acting weird all week. If only I could teach Janice to repeat verbatim what she had heard like a parrot.

At the top of the stairs, one of the boy’s toy cars lodged itself in my heel. My foot curled into the letter C and I let loose some words which would never be brought to you by Sesame Street. The water temperature had improved, but I ran out of conditioner, so I fought for a half hour with the crow’s nest that formed on my head. I could hear Janice having a grand time splashing in the tub. Then it hit me she had been in the tub for over an hour. Outside the door I could hear that dog gone noise again. Clickety-click-click-clickety-click. Ding! I opened the door and there was Janice as wrinkle as Shih Tzu, blowing bubbles while chewing on a large blue piece of soap. Susan was sitting on the rim of the tub fully engrossed in her twittering.

“Susan!”

“Uh-Huh?”

“Can’t you watch your sister for a second and put that stupid phone down?” I walked over to Janice and took the soap from her and she promptly began to cry.

“I was watching her.”

“No you weren’t, look at what she had in her mouth.” I waived the soap at her.

“Why are you always yelling at me?”

“I’m not yelling at you. I would just appreciate some help with your sister is all?”

I wasn’t yelling. Really, I wasn’t, but that didn’t stop her from stomping out the bathroom. I lifted Janice from the tub and wrapped her in a towel. I didn’t know what had gotten into that girl, but ultimately I chalked it up to hormones.

I managed to get Janice quieted down and bundled for our daytrip to the ice skating rink down the street from Angelo’s. I had bought the cutest pink pair of baby ice skates for Janice. I know she doesn’t have the ankle strength to use them now, but pink baby skates – I couldn’t resist. I had just put her mittens on when I heard a sound that had been creeping around my mind all morning. I listened closer. It was silence.

Silence, possibly something trivial to some parents, but a phenomenon that occurs in this house during a good meal, the absence of all family members from the premises, and during the planning of mischief. The void seemed to emanate from upstairs. I looked up and saw the front curl of a toboggan and two sets of feet teetering on the top stair landing. Before I could say a word – thump, thump, thump, thump, thump, thump, Bam! The toboggan hit the last step and stopped, Dale and Dallas didn’t. They smacked the floor after flying through the air for a second or two and rolled to a stop next each other. They weren’t moving.

“Oh God!” I ran to the stairs and slammed my knee into an end table I’d been meaning to move and fell on top the boys, who burst out laughing. “Why you little –”

Shaking them by their shoulders only produced more laughter from their round faces. Even Janice yipped with delight at the circus act.

“What’s going on in here?” Susan came around the corner in her green parker, earmuffs, and of course, phone in hand.

“Your brothers are crazy, scared me half to death sliding down the stairs in their toboggan! And I cracked my knee!” I rolled over and pulled my leg into a figure four to rub my throbbing kneecap.

“Humph.” She shook her head and retreated into the hallway. Clickety-click-click.

“Come on,” I whispered to the boys, let’s leave your sister here. She’s being a weirdo.” They yelled in agreement, when the telephone rang. It was Dawn.

“Barb, I’m at the hospital.” She sounded unsteady and distant.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I was in an accident.”

“Okay, I’ll be there shortly, where are you?”

“St. Mary. Look, I’m fine, my car is gone though. The doctor just wants someone to keep an eye on me for a bit.”

“Okay, I’ll be there in a sec, bye.”

“You’re not going are you?” Dallas, always the first to put two and two together.

“No sweetie, Mommy’s gonna pick up Dawn, but Sissy’s still gonna take you, okay?”

“Oh, alright.”

Dale sidled up and signaled for me to bend down so he could whisper something.

“Sissy’s a weirdo.” He covered his mouth and giggled.

“I know, but I want you to be nice to her cause she is still your sister. Now go get your mittens.” They ran up the stairs. “Susan!”

“Yeah!”

“I got to go pick up Dawn! She was in an accident!”

“Is she okay?” Susan appeared from around the corner tying her hair back into a hair tie.

“Yeah, probably a little banged up though, so could you take the boys and Janice to the park for me? I only have to go to St. Mary.”

“Sure, why not.” With an irritated sigh, she disappeared into the bathroom.

“And can you please pay more attention to them than your phone?”

“Okay Mom! Geez!” Clickety-click-click.

***

Dawn and I got to the house way later I than expected because her insurance claim rep showed up to fill out paperwork with her, and when she called me the doctor hadn’t finished running all the test they wanted. She escaped unscathed except the loss of her Dodge Stratus, a good size knot on her forehead, and a stiff neck. Her bulky sweater, foam neck brace, and round eyeglasses, transformed her into and injured turtle who couldn’t get its head back into its shell.

I should have known when I open the door that smoke and the smell of burnt roast would pour out the house. Luckily, I got there in time to answer the ADT call and told them not to send the fire department. I opened all the windows and doors and sat Dawn on the front porch with Zippy until the air cleared.

My neighbor Stan had just returned from wherever he and saw the smoke and was all too eager to help. His long legs covered the distance from his car to my porch with ease, only leaving three sets of crater-sized foot prints. His wide shoulders made his black long coat fall away from the rest of his body like a sheet ghost and he carried a plastic shopping that lazily bumped against his thigh. Steam seeped through his brown hair and wafted away in the breeze.

“Is everything okay Barbara?”

“Yeah, just forgot something in the stove.”

“I’ve got an extra fan you can use if you’d like.”

“No, I should be fine. Thanks though.” He shifted his weight and put his hand in his pockets. Oh, where are my manners? Dawn, Stan, Stan, Dawn.”

“How do you do?” Stan took her hand gently.

“Fine, thanks.”

“What happened?” He pointed at his forehead.

“Just playing a little rough with a diesel.”

We both laughed at her nonchalance, but deep down I cringed. She hadn’t told me it was a diesel that hit her and between calling Susan and telling her to take the little ones to Jonny’s Pizza, rushing home, and worrying I guess I never asked.

“Well let me know if I can help.”

“I will, thanks Stan.”

“Take care now Dawn.” He strode up his stairs, stomped snow off his boots, and ducked into his house before Dawn started in on me.

“Oh-my-God. He is so sexy. Why didn’t you tell me you had an Adonis living next door?”

“Shhh! He can probably still hear you you know.”

“And he likes you. I can tell.”

This last bit of info took me by surprise. Dawn can read people well. At the office, if she homed in on a new person blossoming into an egocentric prick or a neurotic suck up, she never missed, but she had to be off here – crash must have gotten to her.

“We need to take you back to run some more test on that knot of yours.”

“It’s because you’ve turned off your sensors, or either given up. Even though John and I are solid, I never turn my sensors off.” Dawn rummaged through her purse and found her chap stick. “So which one is it?”

“I’m talking to someone right now.” Dawn stopped putting on her chap stick and dropped her hands into her lap in desperation.

“Are you talking about that online guy Julius?”

“Yes, and he is coming by tonight.”

“Lord Barb, you really think this guy is coming here? I mean don’t get me wrong, you deserve the world when it comes to romance as far as I’m concern, but, you believe this guy is flying out here to see you?”

God, right in the face of it, right in the face of it all, it did seem rather silly, especially when she put it that way. Less than four hours away from meeting the man I’d dated online for the last six months, and Dawn just planted the biggest seed of doubt.

Julius was too perfect to be real and so unbelievably down to earth. He would be a great fit, not just for me, but for us. He had a son and two daughters and a Scottish-Terrier at that. We were both raised in Italian homes, so no hiccup there. We watched the same T.V. shows, he loved opera, and frequented Angelo’s, my favorite coffee shop, whenever he was in town. He even confirmed what I thought was a bad hairdo on the owner’s wife, but most importantly we both hated Dr. Phil.

“Well, he said his parents lived out her and that he was moving back to be close to them. And he knows the area well, so he has to be from here.”

“Alright, but you know me, I always stick to what I can see and what is accessible.”

“You must have been staring very hard at that diesel then.”

“Ha-ha-ha, very funny. Like I said, John is very lucky we’re getting along so well because Mr. Stan is very accessible!” She made little thrusting motions with her hips. I chuckled, but she had unnerved me. What if she was right? What if he didn’t show, what then? He told me he would call when he got in state and he hadn’t, which was nothing new, we never talk, just instant messaged and emailed. I decided then if he didn’t show he didn’t show. I had no roast now anyway.

“Besides, I’m not Stan’s type. I’ve seen him at Duelie’s with a couple of prospects before, only dates buxom blondes.

“What kind of word is buxom?”

“And why do they have to be blonde?”

***

John came to pick Dawn up just before the kids arrived. Susan looked annoyed like I knew she would. Anyone looking after a mercurial toddler all day in an arcade, without a doubt, will look that way. She came in, slung her purse on the lazy boy, plopped on the couch with Janice in her lap and begin to tell me about her horrid evening.

The boys, while playing Riot Cops, began to brawl about high score, because their initials like them are identical. Susan had to break them apart.

“They embarrassed me in front of the whole place because of some stupid initials Mom!”

The twins brooded and sulked around the door, afraid to come in, like two dogs who’d been busted in the trash can. I sent them to bed. I took Janice upstairs and put her to bed. She had to be worn out going all day without a nap. It didn’t seem like that long ago my ex and I were tucking Susan in her crib. Now I had a new little monster and no extra set of hands. I went back downstairs and Susan had slipped into her room. So waited on the couch listening to a silent phone.

At 9:30 I shut down the T.V., ready for bed when I turned and saw Susan standing on the stairs.

“I thought you were in bed, you scared me.”

“Mom, he isn’t coming.” She stared at the floor.

“Huh, uh, how do you know?”

“I – uh – I made him up.” Her words trailed off and I strained to hear her.

“Susan what are you talking about?”

“Julius, I made him up for you.”

“I – I – don’t understand –”

“I took his picture off a JCPenny ad and I made his profile and stuff. But I can’t keep doing this – I didn’t think it would hurt you if he didn’t show but now it’s gone too far.”

I just stood there unable to say anything. How could I have been such a fool? Hoodwinked by my own child. I could only speak the most natural words for any parent in this situation.

“No phone! No T.V.! No going out, you are so grounded young lady! Leave that phone right there on the steps and go to your room! I’ll be taking the computer in the morning!”

“But Mom it’s not fair! I’m eighteen! ”

“What do you mean ‘not fair’. You think this little –”

“You don’t go out, you don’t try! You haven’t been out the house, except to work in months. You always told me that when I fall down to get back up and try again.” She tried to hold back tears, but I could see them wetting the corners of her eyes. “But you – Dale and Dallas – they need someone. Dad is gone, I know, but I need you. It’s like he still comes between us. Every other thing is him and how he did this or that and we need now. New memories or something. I want both of you, but I know that can’t happen.”

No sooner had she said her peace, the tears came crashing down her face and my heart almost ceased up. I hadn’t seen Susan cry since the split. I opened my arms and she came swooping in for a hug. She nearly squeezed the breath out of me.

“Okay, okay – you may have a point – or two, but this isn’t the way honey. Lying and tricking someone is never the way. That is why your father is not here. And – I would appreciate you keeping your nose out of my love life. You’re still grounded young lady, but we will talk tomorrow.

She shook her head in agreement, put her phone on the table and walked to her room. Ding.

***

I stood on my balcony holding my head. I don’t smoke, but if I did I’d definitely had lit up by now. The moon, high and full, cast an ethereal silver-blue on everything. With no breeze easing through the maples, my breath hovered in knotted columns of smoke. I mumble expletives in the night, intermittently enunciating one.

I know I’ve done all I can for my little ones, Lord knows I’ve tried the best I know how. Then something like infidelity comes sticking its hand into your relationship and takes the best of it. It’s hard for them to understand. I’m not bitter, really I’d like to think I’m not, but that is what Susan seems to think of me. It’s just that when you love so hard and so long, all of that sweetness turns your soul, your life into Velcro when the other half of you is trying to pull away.

“Looks like you could use a drink.”

I almost jumped out of my skin when I heard the voice. The heat rising from my neck, flashed over to embarrassment.

“Oh! My goodness, I didn’t even see you there. Well, yeah I guess I could.”

Stan leaned over and placed two shot glasses in the snow that covered my balcony’s rail then pulled out a bottle of Kashmir from his coat pocket.

“I hate burning food too.”

“You cook?” The oval bottle gurgled as the amber liqueur swirled and settled into the glasses. The crowfeet deepened around his hazel eyes, his smile alluding to his prowess in the kitchen.

“I can do a little something. Maybe you could come by for dinner sometime? I promise, if it’s burnt you won’t have to be polite.” We both laughed and after a short silence he lifted his glass. “What should we drink to?”

“To – to – Acapulco! Never been, but would love to go.”

The End