Easily Amused (6 page)

W
hen I pulled up in front of my house, Piper and Hubert were already unloading boxes. Halfway home I’d gotten snagged on a red light and was left behind while the two of them sped merrily away. It gave them a bit of a lead, but judging from the number of boxes on the lawn, I took a lot longer than I thought.

“I’m in a big hurry,” Piper yelled as I approached. She was tossing boxes out of the van with the fury of a St. Bernard digging for avalanche victims. “I’ve got to get home pronto. Mike called and Brandon’s up.”

Oh, so that was it. Stop the presses. Alert the media. The baby is
awake
. God forbid Mike should have to deal with his own kid for once. His hands-off approach to fatherhood didn’t seem to bother Piper—she relished being the only one Brandon wanted—but it annoyed me to no end. Wasn’t parenting supposed to be a two-person job? Did Piper have to give up everything in her life just because she had a baby? When I tried explaining my frustration to my mother, she just laughed and said I’d get my friend back eventually. Babies were a full-time job, she said, as if I didn’t know that. It just seemed to me that Mike could help out more.

Hubert pulled out a box and set it down on a stack adjacent to the curb. Further back, boxes were scattered haphazardly. Piper’s work, no doubt.

“Some of those things might be breakable,” he said after Piper lobbed a smallish carton over her shoulder.

“Piper, chill.” I held up my hand in the universal sign for “Stop wrecking your friend’s stuff.”

“It’s mostly books, I think.” She paused and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “They’ll be fine. If anything gets damaged, just let me know and I’ll pay for it.”

“Sure, just write a check,” I said. “But what if it’s the Waterford crystal that’s been in his family for generations? What then?” The Waterford crystal line was a hypothetical. In all honesty, I doubted Hubert’s family owned any priceless heirlooms. I’d been to his grandmother’s house—she collected ceramic cows, and I was pretty sure none had been passed on yet. Still, it was the point of the thing.

“It’s OK, Lola.” Hubert placed a hand on my shoulder. “She’s doing me a favor. Just let it go.”

Piper gave me a sideways glance complete with eye roll, and then she turned back to the van. As a compromise, she climbed inside and pushed the boxes toward the back for Hubert and me to unload. We moved the rest in silence.

“That’s all she wrote,” Piper sang out when the van was finally empty. She clambered out and slammed the door shut. “You’re good to go. And I am out of here.”

“Thank you so much. I’m really grateful you came on such short notice.” Hubert moved toward her with outstretched arms. His lankiness gave the hug an odd look—like a mother giraffe leaning over to nuzzle her baby. “I really owe you.” He spoke to the top of her head. “If you need anything at all—a ride to the airport, a babysitter, anything—just let me know.”

“Will do.” Piper’s voice was suddenly cheerful. She was good at departures. They moved apart, and she held him at arm’s length. “And you make sure to call me and tell me how you’re doing. I’ll be thinking of you.”

“Thanks. I will.”

She turned to me. “See you later, Lola. Maybe we can do lunch sometime?”

“Sure.” Sometime was a safe bet. We hugged and she drove off, waving as she went.

After Piper’s van turned the corner and was out of sight, Hubert said, “By any chance, do you own one of those moving cart things? What are they called?” He snapped his fingers. “A dolly? Or maybe a wheelbarrow or something?” I shrugged a no, and we both stood a moment and surveyed the box explosion on the lawn. Hand-carrying them into the house would take forever.

Besides my Honda, I didn’t own anything with wheels, but my next-door neighbor made up for my circular shortcomings. Mrs. Cho’s lawn was littered with more axles than you’d find at a NASCAR race: roller skates and bikes and a coaster wagon. While Hubert surveyed the scene, I could tell his own wheels were turning.

“I’m going to ask Ben if they have anything,” Hubert said. “If nothing else, we can borrow that kids’ wagon.”

Normally I wouldn’t have encouraged getting my neighbors involved, but my shoulders ached and I was starting to get a headache. Even if I wanted to object, I didn’t have time—Hubert was knocking on the Chos’ door before I could even have found words. I watched him talk to someone through the screen door. He pointed in my direction, and I waved in case they could see me. Then the door opened and a hand beckoned him in. Oh great. Now that he’d been absorbed into the Cho clan, there was no telling when he’d be back.

I left the boxes and went into my own house to use the bathroom. If Hubert came back and I was still inside, he’d figure it out. He was smart that way.

On the way back through the living room, the blinking light on the answering machine caught my eye. Four messages? Sometimes I went a week and didn’t get a one. We hadn’t been gone
that
long.

I stopped to push the button and heard, “Good afternoon, Lola. This is Brother Jasper from across the street just calling to tell you there’s been a change in plans. The block party is now on Saturday, May seventh. We had to make it earlier because it’s going to be a fundraiser for a little boy from the church. His name is Derek, and he has leukemia. We hope you can make it then, but even if you can’t, please include Derek in your prayers. I appreciate it. Thanks.”

My first thought was for poor little Derek. Leukemia, what a bite. My second thought was that date was my birthday, which was a fine reason to skip the block party. I would write a nice check for the little guy and be done with it.

Message two revealed my younger sister’s voice: “Lola? This is Mindy. If you’re there, pick up.” Long pause. “Well, I can’t imagine where you’d be on a Saturday afternoon.” Another long pause and a sigh. I pictured her perfectly glossed lips forming an exasperated O. “Look, I was wondering if you’d want to go to the Wonderful World of Weddings at State Fair Park with me and Jessica today. I thought we could check out the bridesmaid dresses and flowers and stuff. I’m going to try your cell. Call me if you get this message in the next fifteen minutes.”

Message three: “Lola, this is Mindy again. Jessica’s here and we’re leaving now for the wedding thing.” I heard her muffled voice through the hand-covered receiver saying something to her maid of honor, Jessica, and then she was back. “I’m thinking because your cell is turned off that you’re probably home and just pulling that antisocial crap you do, so we’re swinging by to pick you up. Wear flat shoes because the hall is enormous and we’ve got a lot of ground to cover.” The voice after the beep said she’d called at 12:43.

I winced at the thought of Mindy and Jessica showing up at my door. Frankly, I didn’t want to be involved in the decision-making part of Mindy’s wedding-o-rama. I’d told her to pick whatever bridesmaid dresses she wanted—I didn’t care. She’d asked my opinion on everything from champagne toasts to place cards, and I told her repeatedly that anything she picked out was fine by me, but she refused to believe my apathy was genuine.

I compared the time of the call with my watch. Phew. They would have come and gone by now. Who’d have thought Hubert’s crisis would have saved my day?

Message four: “Um, Lola? This is Drew.” Shoot, I knew where this was going. “I’m really sick.” He cleared his throat, and then his sick voice officially began. “I know you said you need those articles first thing Monday morning, but I’m thinking there’s no way I’ll have them done by then. I probably won’t even be in to work on Monday. Because I feel really terrible.” Big coughing fit. “OK, well if you need anything, you can call. But I might not answer if I’m sleeping. And if you pass by my apartment and my car is gone, that’s because I let my brother borrow it. Since I wouldn’t be using it anyway. Because I’m so sick.” Got it. Not coming in to work on Monday due to fake sickness. But really out of town. “OK then. Bye.”

Drew was one of two staff writers at the parenting magazine where I was the editor. His very existence gave me tension headaches. The other staff member of our little parenting magazine was Mrs. Kinkaid, and yes, she wanted to be called Mrs. Kinkaid. She’d worked for the newspaper in one capacity or another for thirty years, being passed around from department to department, wherever she could do the least damage. When the newspaper created this spin-off parenting tabloid (mostly for additional advertising opportunities), the newly installed editor inherited Mrs. Kinkaid. And when
I
got the job, the first person I saw when I walked through the door was Mrs. Kinkaid, welcoming me with a platter of brownies and a lot of chatter.

Most of the time I didn’t mind her too much. She had a chipper disposition and was a halfway decent writer who came up with some snappy headlines, but her lackadaisical attitude toward work was another thing. She yakked on the phone with her daughter and balanced her checkbook on company time. I suspected she had the dirt on someone higher up because every time I complained, my boss did the equivalent of patting me on the head by telling me Mrs. Kinkaid was part of the deal. Take her or leave it.

With Drew out on Monday, it would be just Mrs. Kinkaid and me. Not such a bad deal, as long as I ignored her phone chattering and concentrated on my own work. The funny thing was that, despite the idiosyncrasies of my staff, I really loved my job. The magazine came out only once a month, so there was no great pressure. Much of the content was advertising disguised as articles, but I didn’t mind that much. I got the final say in the layouts, graphics, and cover photos, and every now and then we did something fun like a photo or essay contest.

My predecessor had quit because our office was in the basement of the daily paper, our parent company. She had some kind of subterranean claustrophobia and hated being so removed from the hubbub upstairs. I didn’t share her feelings. Except for the spiders, working in the basement suited me fine.

My family joked about the irony of me, a single female with no prospects, working for a parenting magazine. I was a little hurt that at age twenty-nine they’d already written me off. I joked back about how much I liked being independent, even as I wondered if they were right.

As I was pushing the delete button, Hubert came through the door, followed by Brother Jasper, Ben Cho, and two other young Asian men. They all carried boxes. I was beginning to see a pattern here.

“Hey, Lola,” Hubert said, setting his box down in the corner of the living room and gesturing for the others to do the same. “Look, I got help.”

“I see that,” I said. “Hey, Brother Jasper. Hi, guys.”

“Miss Lola,” Brother Jasper said, smiling. “This is turning out to be a fine weekend. First I get to eat some of Mrs. Cho’s delicious cooking, and then I get to be one of the first to welcome Hubert to the neighborhood. And,” he said, extending an arm in my direction, “how good of you to take your friend in during his time of need. You have a very giving spirit.”

I hoped that wouldn’t get around. I said, “Well, it’s good of you all to help with the boxes. It would have taken us hours. Thanks a lot.”

The guys responded with a chorus of “no problem” and “you’re welcome.”

Brother Jasper grinned. “Glad to help. What comes around goes around.”

Now was my chance. “Brother Jasper, I got your message, and I just wanted to let you know I won’t be able to make the block party. It’s my birthday, and my folks have this thing planned.” He looked so understanding—why did I feel the need to explain further? “Otherwise I’d love to help out, but they’d be so disappointed. I’ll certainly donate to the cause, though.” I sneaked a glance at Hubert, hoping he wouldn’t blow my story, but he was busy talking to Ben Cho.

“Don’t worry about it, Lola,” Brother Jasper said. “Attendance is strictly optional. You’ll be missed, though.”

“Thanks.”

Hubert paused in the doorway as the rest of group filed out the door. “You don’t have to help anymore, Lola. We’re pretty well covered now.” He made a shooing gesture with both hands. “Go along and take that bath you’ve been yearning for. Leave the rest to us.”

I hesitated. Back at Vista View when I’d been sweating up a storm I’d mumbled something about wanting a good soak once I got home, but I hadn’t realized he’d heard me. I felt a flush of shame at my own selfishness, but that didn’t stop me from wanting to take him up on his offer.

“We’ll be fine. And if you leave your keys,” he added, “I’ll even put your car in the garage when we’re all done.”

I knew in that moment I’d lost control of my house and my life, but I was tired and his offer sounded good. As I headed upstairs, I couldn’t help but think of the old cliché: what a difference a day makes.

A
good long soak in a tub full of warm water is one of life’s greatest pleasures, as far as I’m concerned. Bath time is a serious business, and I’ve invested in an assortment of bath oils, crystals, scented soaps, and loofahs to ensure it goes well.

When I took a bath, I lit candles and sometimes played CDs. I skipped the music this time, but I still opted for the other niceties, arranging my towels for easy access and lighting some purple soy candles before climbing into the tub.

Once immersed I leaned back, careful to drape my hair over the edge, and then I closed my eyes. I wondered how long Hubert would stay. In the meantime, his boxes would take up most of the living room. Thank God he didn’t have any furniture to move. When he’d moved in with Kelly she was already set for furniture, so he gave all his away to a family who’d lost everything in a house fire. Piper said his generosity was good-hearted but foolish (
What if they break up and he needs it back?
), but I thought it was sweet. This was before I knew Kelly’s other side. Turned out Piper was right. As usual.

I heard the guys talking downstairs but couldn’t make out what they were saying. They must have finished the hauling and now were just shooting the breeze. I picked up a net-covered sponge, drizzled liquid bath wash on it, and squeezed until it produced a froth of suds. The scented candle was in full force now, and the room smelled of lavender. My bathrobe hung over a hook on the back of the door, like in a movie.

Below me a door slammed, and I heard the men’s voices trail outside before subsiding completely. It was nice of them to help. I considered baking some muffins for Brother Jasper and the Cho boys as a thank you and then decided against it. Better to send Harry & David pears and let the UPS man do the delivery. A personal gift without getting too personal.

I ran the wet sponge over my left arm leaving a streak of suds, switched hands to do the other side, and then sank down so only my head protruded. Usually I stayed in until my toes resembled albino raisins or the water cooled, whichever came first.

I was so relaxed I was almost dozing when I heard a clattering of footsteps. Startled, I recognized voices: my sister Mindy and her cohort Jessica. Every muscle in my body went from limp to clenched in an instant.

I heard Hubert call up the stairs, “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Mindy said, outside the bathroom door. “I’m her sister. If I can’t barge in on her, who can?”

I held my breath as if that might make me unreachable. Oh, why couldn’t Hubert have told her I wasn’t home?

“Hey, Lola,” she yelled. “It’s Mindy—open up.” She rapped on the door: shave and a haircut, two bits. “Come on, Lola.”

“Just a minute,” I said, scrambling out of the tub.

“Let me in,” she said and banged with her fist.

Like hell. Frantically I grabbed my luxury towel, wrapped it around my middle, shimmied inside of it, and then lowered it to get my legs.

“Lola, what, are you drowned?” She tried the knob. Thank God I’d locked it.

“I said,
just a minute
.”

“Oooh, she’s cranky,” Mindy said, presumably to Jessica.

Mindy could push my buttons like no one else. I tried never to lose my cool around her because seeing me riled was one of her greatest pleasures. Staying calm in her presence was a perpetual challenge.

“Hey, Lola, come on out. I have a surprise for you.”

I groaned. A surprise from Mindy was never a good thing. One year she gave me a one-month membership to her fitness club for my birthday, for the sole purpose, I’d concluded, of drawing attention to the fact that she was a size two and I was a size eight. On my good days.

One Christmas she gifted me with a session at Glamour Shots. Apparently she thought I could only achieve glamour with the help of a soft focus and some photo retouching. Another time she asked me to meet her for dinner, just the two of us, and then she showed up with her boyfriend and his much older, never-married,
Star Trek
–loving cousin. A sort of impromptu double date, she explained in the bathroom after the salad course. All of her gifts were designed to surreptitiously point out my shortcomings.

“Jessica took pictures at the wedding show. We can download them on your computer,” she called now, as if that would lure me out.

“Go downstairs,” I ordered as I slipped on my bathrobe. “I’ll be down in a minute.”

I heard Hubert’s voice from below. “Ladies. Come on down and have a glass of wine with me. Give Lola a chance to get herself together.”

Wine? It was a little early in the day to be drinking. Not to mention that there wasn’t any wine on the premises. What was he thinking?

“All right,” Jessica said. “Party at Lola’s.” I could picture her pumping her fist in the air. She was the original good-time girl, the kind you see waving a lighter at concerts and hanging out the back of convertibles. Guys noticed her for her long legs and big bazongas. The combination made her look like such a knockout that they never seemed to notice that she was only pretty in a horsey-faced kind of way. Mindy, with her curly chestnut-colored hair, button nose, and big doe-eyes, was the prettier of the two, but her petite build couldn’t compete with Jessica’s Amazonian height and porn-star proportions.

“We’re going downstairs now to talk to Hubert,” Mindy yelled through the door. “Hurry up.”

I pulled my bathrobe off the hook. “OK, see you in a bit,” I said, but I wasn’t sure they heard me over the clomping of their feet as they headed downstairs toward Hubert’s wine.

I took my time dressing, making Mindy wait in retaliation for having invaded my bath time. I only realized that was a mistake when I followed the sound of laughter downstairs and found Mindy and Jessica on either side of Hubert on the couch, looking at an open book on Hubert’s lap. Jessica held a half-full tumbler of what looked like grape juice. She leaned forward in such a way that her scooped-neck top barely covered her scoops.

“What’s so funny?” I asked as I came into the room and sat down in a wing chair. I felt like I was crashing a hot-tub soiree between Hugh Hefner and a couple of his bunnies. “What have you got there?”

“I just came across one of our old yearbooks when I was opening some of the boxes,” Hubert said. “I thought the girls might get a kick out of seeing it.”

“You were so skinny in high school,” Mindy said, tapping the page and then pointing the same finger at me. “Wow, what a difference.”

Hubert looked up, puzzled. “She looks the same to me.”

Mindy tilted her head to one side and appraised me. “Her hair’s the same—that’s why you think she hasn’t changed. She’s kept it in that just-hanging-down style forever. For my wedding, we’re all getting updos. Lola will be
forced
to look good that day.”

“So glad you found that yearbook,” I said. “Good going, Hubert.”

“He found wine, too.” Jessica held up her glass as if toasting me. “Fat Bastard!”

“Excuse me?” I said.

“The brand name is Fat Bastard,” Hubert explained. “Kelly and I bought a few bottles at a wine tasting.” At the mention of Kelly’s name, his face clouded up. The wench sure had a hold on him. “Kel wanted to buy it because of the name, but she didn’t actually like the taste.”

“Too bad for her,” Jessica said and laughed, her mouth so wide I saw the fillings in her back teeth. “More for us.”

“How much did you guys drink?” I asked.

“Oh! My wedding!” Mindy jumped off the couch and grabbed a large plastic bag off the floor. “We absolutely have to show you all the stuff we got at the wedding show.” She slid my stack of magazines off the coffee table and then spread brochures on the newly cleared surface. “Most of this I already have set up for my wedding. Jess and I really just went to get hyped up.”

I was able to feign interest through the floral and photography sections of the talk, but when she started describing her aisle runner, her voice took on the muted-cornet sound of Charlie Brown’s teacher.
Bwah, bwah, bwah, bwah, bwah.

“When are you getting married?” Hubert asked, breaking the tedium.

Jessica tapped the coffee table with her fingernails. “Are you going to tell them?” She looked from me to Hubert with raised eyebrows.

“That’s my surprise,” Mindy said.

Clearly they’d had too much to drink. Mindy and Chad’s chosen wedding day was no surprise; it had been set three years ago. The date was burned into my brain.

“It’s the third Saturday in August,” I said to Hubert. “Because they met the third weekend in August right before their junior year of high school.” I was sure Hubert had heard this story before. Mindy and Chad were five years younger than us, so we’d already graduated by the time they’d become a couple, but he’d been around my family enough to have heard of their fateful meeting at the local pool that summer.

“Correction,” Mindy said. “The wedding
was
scheduled for the third weekend in August, but there’s been a change. The reception hall double-booked, so they offered us an alternate date.”

“With a big price break too,” Jessica added.

“Luckily Father Joe had a slot at the church available on the very day, so it worked out perfectly.” My sister grinned like she could barely suppress the news. “You won’t believe it. Wait’ll you hear.”

The suspense was getting tiresome. “So when is it?”

“Get this.” Mindy leaned forward. “I’m getting married on
May seventh
.”

“May seventh?” I asked.

“Hey,” Hubert said, “that’s Lola’s birthday.”

My heart sank. “Oh no, not on my birthday.” To turn thirty on the very day my younger sister got married? How loser-ish was that?

“Why not? You got something better to do that day?” Mindy asked. “It’s so perfect. You’ll never forget my anniversary, and you’ll always know how many years I’ve been married—just take your age and subtract thirty.”

“It’s really May seventh?” I could barely get the words out. Oh please, let her be joking. I’d even forgive her for my spike in blood pressure if this whole thing turned out to be a ribbing at my expense.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Mindy said. “How in the world am I going to get this whole thing put together in the next three weeks? I’ve thought of everything. We’ll just have to get the bridesmaid dresses off the rack.” She shrugged as if to say,
What are you gonna do?
“Luckily I’ve had my dress forever.” She’d been making payments on it for the last two years. “With everything else, we can cut corners or pay extra. Jessica here called all the guests already, and most of them can still make it. We’ve got it all figured out.”

“We’ve been working like dogs to pull this off,” Jessica said. She rested a hand on the yearbook on Hubert’s lap.

“How long have you known?” I wondered if I could bow out of the wedding completely. I racked my brain for a legitimate excuse for missing my own sister’s wedding. The block party? No, thanks. Emergency surgery? Impossible to plan. Car crash? Would involve wrecking my car. Sequestered jury duty? If I knew how to manage that, I’d sign up ahead of time. It would be ideal—no pain and an extended hotel stay. Sorry, Mindy, I’d love to be in your wedding, but I’m too busy doing my civic duty.

“Oh gosh,” Mindy said. “I’ve known for about two weeks, but I wanted to spring the news on you in person. Mom didn’t tell you then? I told her not to.”

“No, Mom didn’t say anything.” I thought back to my last phone conversation with our mother and the way she kept asking if I’d seen Mindy lately. I’d thought it was another attempt to encourage us to be friends, when actually she was in on this whole thing.

Mom was a traitor.

“You don’t look so happy about this,” Jessica said. “Not too many brides would want to share their special day with their sister.”

“I’m just—” I struggled to find the right word. “Surprised.”

“And here’s the best part,” Mindy said, beaming.

More? I steeled myself.

“I’ve talked to the woman at the bakery. Wonderful little German lady named Hilda.” This she directed to Hubert, who nodded as if he knew Hilda. “And she agreed to make us an extra cake.” She held up both hands—
ta-da!
“Chocolate cake with chocolate frosting.”

The room was silent as she waited for a reaction. Finally I made a guess. “For those who prefer chocolate?”

“No, silly,” Mindy said. “For your birthday. Chocolate with chocolate—your favorite. I thought we’d have them wheel it out on one of those carts like they have for room service, with the candles lit ahead of time. Then Chad will announce that it’s your thirtieth birthday, and I’ll lead the singing.”

“Oh no,” I said, the blood rising to my cheeks.

“She’s always so shy,” Mindy said to Hubert. “But once she’s in the spotlight, she’ll love it.”

“No, I won’t love it,” I said. “Do not do this.”

“It’ll be great,” Mindy said, as if I hadn’t spoken. “Everyone will get such a kick out of it.”

I gritted my teeth. “This is a very bad idea, Mindy. Cancel the chocolate cake, and forget about the singing. Not going to happen.”

Mindy turned to Jessica. “I knew we shouldn’t have told her about the cake ahead of time. I just
knew
she’d get this way.” She sighed and folded her hands primly in her lap, and then she gave me a studied look. “You don’t really want to ruin this for me, do you, Lola? You said I could plan my wedding any way I wanted, and this is what I want.”

“Yes, it’s your wedding,” I said. “But this stops being about your wedding once you drag my birthday into it. Then it’s about me, and I do have definite ideas about that. I have no intention of having two hundred people, most of whom I barely know, singing to me.”

Mindy twisted her hands and exhaled dramatically. “Oh, why is it always so hard for you to just go along? This is my plan: I get married, we have a nice dinner, we sing ‘Happy Birthday,’ we cut the cake, we do some dancing. The birthday song lasts like one minute. How embarrassed can you be? It’s not like I can just ignore the fact that it’s your birthday. That wouldn’t be very nice, would it? And a dual celebration, how cool is that? The relatives would love it, you know they would.”