Lauren Takes Leave (22 page)

“Fuck Lee!” Jodi shouts, waking her dozing husband. I can
hear her muffled conversation with him. “Not you, babe. It was something on
cable. Go back to sleep. Lauren, are you there? I’m taking the phone upstairs.”

The cabbie pulls into my driveway and I ask him to let the
car idle while I wrap up this call.

“You know, I’ve got a grandmother in Miami,” Jodi says,
back on the line.

“That’s a nice non sequitur.”

“Yes, whatever that means,” she says. She slows down her
words and pronounces each distinctly. “I’ve. Got. A. Grandmother. In. Miami.”

“That’s. Nice,” I try, playing her game.

“She’s very old. So old that she might die. Any day now.”

“That’s too bad,” I add, aiming for a sympathetic tone.

“I think I should visit her. One last time. Because she’s
practically on her deathbed, you know.”

My heart starts beating fast.

Of course!

Jodi is the best liar I know.

“Lauren, are you there? I better wake Lee and tell him
that I just got this
awful
call from my grandmother. She’s
very
sick. She wants to see me one last time. I
have
to go to Miami…”

“Tomorrow!” we shout, united in blissful deceit.

Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I could bore you with
the details of how I managed to sneak out of my house at 5:30 a.m. that
Thursday morning, deceiving the Hadley School District, my husband, my
children, and my babysitter, among others. Lawyers could postulate an in-depth
analysis about how I
felt
about it all. A psychiatrist could lecture to
you about women and their midlife crises, the way completely respectable,
law-abiding citizens could just turn all
Thelma and Louise
at the mere
mention of Botox.

But I’ve been a juror, remember, and I know that your time
is precious.

So, I’ll just tell you that, in the movie version of my
life, the Clash’s “Should I Stay or Should I Go” would be playing as I entered
my dark and sleepy suburban split-level home at approximately 11:22 p.m. on
Wednesday evening, having just finished making the call to Jodi. That one call
that turned her from a mere witness to an actual accomplice, I guess you could
say. But that’s for another jury to decide down the hall, and so I will not speculate.

Instead, I will admit that I packed a small carry-on as best
I could in the darkness. And although I could not locate my favorite beach
cover-up anywhere, I eventually went to bed. I awoke and dressed in the blue-gray
morning fog, left a note on the kitchen counter next to my car keys, and slid
out the front door to await Kat’s arrival in my driveway.

You see, once the decision to bolt was made, everything
just fell into place. The old Lauren, the me from the time before jury duty,
would have kept ongoing lists on her iPhone of the pros and cons of such an
adventure, had she even entertained the thought at all. She may have surfed the
web in the school library, searching for online support groups for teachers on
the verge. She would have asked other people’s opinions, stopping coworkers in
the faculty lounge to ask if they had ever taken leave of their senses. When
did they do it, and for how long? What were the consequences?

But here’s the funny thing about taking leave: you just do
it. All the thinking and planning and worrying and wondering grabs its wings
and takes flight. And you know what? Watching all of that day-to-day sameness
fly right out the window?

It feels really fucking good.

Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I would prefer to admit
that I feel some remorse.

I regret to say that I do not.

I would like to say that I have reflected on, and learned
a great deal from, all that has occurred.

I regret to say that I have not.

And so, without further ado, I shall submit into evidence
an accounting of the rest of my week.

Or what I recall of it.

And, Your Honor, I would just like to mention here that
all songs from the soundtrack of my life that week are listed on my Facebook
page and are available for purchase through iTunes. Enjoy!

“I have a surprise for you,” I say with a smile, getting
into Kat’s Mini Cooper and throwing my luggage in the backseat.

“Jodi called. She’s running late.” Kat glances over at me.
“Was that your surprise?”

“Yes! Why’d she call you? I told her it would be more fun
if she just showed up at the gate, ready to go. I thought you’d love it.”

“She said she didn’t want to wake anyone in your house
with a call. She probably texted you or something.”

I check my phone and see that she has. Then I reach into
my bag and pull out a CD case.

“New mix?” Kat asks.

“Miami mix, baby!” I pop it in and ’80s music fills the
small space. “You know how I love the mixes!”

With little traffic so early in the morning, we make it to
Kennedy airport in no time, park the car, and get our boarding passes. Jodi
calls Kat to say she’s at the airport and is parking Lee’s car. He would have
been suspicious if she said she was taking a cab, so she insisted on driving
herself, to fit best with the dying-grandmother story.

A few minutes later, Jodi enters the terminal looking like
a famous person who is trying hard to be nonchalant. She’s wearing a
wide-brimmed, white sun hat and enormous black Gucci sunglasses. She’s got
layers of gauzy material wrapped around her delicate frame. Gladiator sandals
wind their way up her ankles.

“She’s gonna have to check that.” Kat motions to her huge
suitcase. “Who brings that much stuff for two days?”

“It’s shoes and bras, mostly, I can tell you from
experience.”

“Bras?”

“Yes. Apparently, there are different kinds for every
outfit. Racerback, push-up, push-up racerback, strapless underwire…there’s
quite an education to be had, traveling with Jodi.”

“It’s like last night all over again,” Kat jokes. “By the
way, I have a little bit of a headache. You?”

“Not too bad. I bet Leslie’s feeling it hard, though.”

“Should I make a lame joke about ‘hard’ or no?”

I give Kat a look just as Jodi gets to us.

“Hi-yyy!” She kisses us each on both cheeks with a “mwah!”
sound. “Why aren’t you guys dressed up? We’re going on vacation!”

“Because airplanes are cold,” I say.

“Because I don’t own shit like that,” Kat adds.

We wait while Jodi checks her luggage and then we head
through security.

Jodi is busy unraveling the laces on her gladiator
sandals, so Kat and I take turns going through the metal detector, waiting for
her on the other side.

“Excuse me? Ma’am?” a security officer calls. I don’t look
up from where I am retying my sneakers until he says it again, this time in my
ear. “Ma’am.”

“Uh, y-yes?” I stammer, looking to see if he’s confusing
me for someone else.

“Come with me, please.” I glance at Kat, who shrugs. Then
the officer motions toward her. “You, too.”

“Jodi!” I call. “We’re being examined.”

She removes her sunglasses and watches with wide eyes as
Kat and I are led into a privacy cubicle off to the side.

“Let’s hope there’s a cavity search,” Kat remarks. “That
would be a fun way to start the trip.”

The officer hears Kat’s comment but does not smile.
“Ladies, sit, please.”

From a gray plastic tray, he removes and holds up two
items. One is a pair of handcuffs trimmed in pink fur. The other is a tube of
lipstick. He waits.

I’d know that lipstick anywhere.

And it ain’t lipstick.

“Kat!” I proclaim in mock horror. “You actually
bought
that from Candy Cox?”

“What?” she asks, looking to me, then to the items. “No!”
she exclaims, realizing what I mean. “Officer…I have no idea where those things
came from—”

“Well, I do,” he says, cutting her off. “These here,” he
says, shaking the handcuffs, “were in the blonde’s pocketbook.”

“I—”

“And this interesting device,” he says, holding out the mini-vibrator,
“was in the bag belonging to…Kat, is it?”

“Ugh!” she groans. “Leslie!”

“What?” I ask. “Her dad’s that top lawyer, is that what
you mean? That we should call
Leslie
for legal counsel?”

“No!” Kat muses, a small smile playing on her lips.
“Leslie
gave
us this shit as party favors last night! That’s why they
were in our bags.”

“Ohhhh!” I exhale. “That’s funny,” I decide, and we start
cracking up. Kat is laughing so hard that tears roll down her cheeks.

“Fucking crazy bitch!” she says fondly, recalling Leslie
from last night.

“Um, ladies. I don’t think you understand. This is a
serious matter. A matter of national security.”

This has us laughing even harder. “Yeah, I’m a regular bin
Laden!” she cackles. “Taking down democracy with my lipstick vibrator!”

“Locking up freedom with these plush, Playboy Bunny
handcuffs…that don’t even lock!” I add for good measure. “My metal nail file is
more menacing!”

“Hello!” Jodi calls, her hat visible just above the rim of
our cubicle. “I’m going to Miami with or without you two losers, just so you
know. See you at the gate.”

“Maybe!” I joke, still trying to catch my breath.

“Please, officer,” Kat says benevolently. “For your
significant other, gifts from Lady Hoochie. Now, if you don’t mind releasing
us, we’ve got a plane to catch.”

The announcement tells us to fasten our seatbelts, secure
all items under the seat in front of us, and turn off all electronic devices
until the captain tells us it’s safe to power on again. Kat puts headphones
into her iPod and slips one ear bud under her hair, concealed from any
Gestapo-like stewardesses. Jodi passes out gum and opens her bible,
People
magazine. She runs her hands lovingly over the glossy pages and begins to read.

The plane creeps along the runway. The captain tells us
that we are now next in line for takeoff and reminds us to turn off all
electronics until we reach our climbing altitude. This is Kat’s signal to hide
the ear bud once more.

I check my e-mail before shutting off my phone, finding
three correspondences of note. The first is from Doug.

Subject: Jury Sequestering

From: [email protected]

Date: April 13

To: [email protected]

Hi Lauren. Saw your note when I woke up. Can’t believe the
judge called you so early this morning and demanded that your jury be
sequestered. Immediately! That seems a bit extreme for a civil case like that,
with low-profile clients and all. Unless it’s more than you were letting on? I
know that, as per your instructions, you can’t tell me anything now, but if you
are allowed time to call and check in today, please do.

I’m sorry that we haven’t had time to connect. Sorry, too,
that you are tangled up in this case, cut off from your life. I know you don’t
always love your job, but I bet you wish you were back in school right now. Ha.

Thanks for taking a cab to the courthouse and leaving us
with your minivan and the car seats. I will make sure that Laney does some
grocery shopping today while the kids are in school and that she takes Ben to
Little League tonight.

By the way, do you have the number for Becca’s friend Ainsley?
She says she has a playdate with her but it’s not on your calendar. Oh, right,
you can’t call me. I’ll find it somewhere.

I know jury duty sucks. But maybe they’ll settle early or
something? So you can come home and tell me what the kids like to eat for
lunch? Ha again. Not panicking too much here…just the right amount, I think.

—D

Oh, I’m so ashamed of myself.

Sort of.

He bought the story! And now he’s got no choice but to be
an active parent! Sometimes you’ve gotta do what you’ve gotta do. Doug has to
work late and cancel our romantic dinner? Fine. Understood. Things happen. Just
like I’ve got to have my pretend jury sequestered and lie my way to sunshine.

Luckily, I already lined up Jackie to babysit tonight
(Laney’s not a fan of overtime), otherwise this little getaway really might not
have been possible.

The second e-mail comes from Dara, the secretary in the
main office at Hadley Middle School. She’s asking for paperwork confirming my
prolonged absence due to jury duty. She’s asking that I drop it by. Today. At
my earliest convenience.

Okay, now that one has me a bit rattled. I send off a
quick reply, my fingers nervously striking the letters on my phone. I’m hoping
that once she learns of my sequestration, she’ll get off my back.

Although, now that I’ve sent a response, I’m not sure
jurors are allowed to have their cell phones when sequestered.

Maybe she won’t think of that.

The third e-mail is self-explanatory.

Subject: Re: Hi

From: [email protected]

Date: April 13

To: [email protected]

You are a baaaaad girl, Mrs. Worthing. Skipping school,
lying to your husband, getting Botox, going to Boston for the day. You’re much
more fun than I ever remembered you being in high school. Middle age really
agrees with you.

So, what’s it going to be today? How about visiting another
old friend?

Subject: Re: Re: Hi

From: [email protected]

Date: April 13

To: [email protected]

Can’t today, old friend. Am on my way to Miami. ;)

I hit “send” and power off just as the plane accelerates.
Kat grabs my hand and I grab Jodi’s on the other side. I close my eyes as we
take off, hope and fear churning together in the hollow of my stomach.

“Christ, Lauren,” Kat swears as we wait for Jodi’s bag to
come around the carousel at the Miami International Airport. “Could you get off
that thing? You’re like iDicted to your iPhone.”