Moms Night Out (7 page)

The worst part was, Kevin WAS a kid. And Sean always justified this relationship, even though it revolved around childish things.

So usually on Saturday nights as she was trying to put the kids to bed Allyson heard something like this . . . loud, way too loud coming from the den.

Don’t stand right behind me, move over, move over.

No, no, back up, back up. I just died.

I didn’t shoot you. The guy behind you shot you.

And no matter what anyone said, Sean not only justified his relationship with Kevin, but his habit too.

“I use video games to transition from work stress,” he said defensively. “That’s my oxygen. I put mine on.”

He moved his fingers as if he was playing a Gameboy. “Video games equal oxygen . . .” Then he pointed to Allyson. “So I can help you put yours on, and you can help the rest of the world.”

Allyson scooped up another spoonful of baby food and tried to hide her smile. It was just something about her husband she had to accept . . . as hard as it was at times. “Thank you.” She swooped the spoon into the baby’s mouth.

Bridget didn’t seem quite as amused, especially as Sean launched into fix-it mode. “Who’s going to watch the baby? What about Joey?” he asked.

Bridget smirked. “Uh, no.”

Joey was Bridget’s ex, and the father of baby Phoenix. He was a fun guy, in a noncommittal, allergic-to-all-responsibility kind of way.

“No, I tried that.” There was a sense of sadness, more than anger as Bridget said those words, and it about broke Allyson’s heart.

“Here’s the thing.” Sean puffed out his chest. “You’re going out, and I’m going to watch Phoenix.”

“You’re going to watch Phoenix?” Allyson asked.

A smile touched his lips. “I will watch Phoenix, big brother to the rescue once again, and everyone’s happy.”

Bridget straightened in her seat and then tossed back her hair. She could ask for help—and she often did—but Bridget’s defenses rose up and red flaming arrows shot from her eyes every time someone accused her of being a charity case.

“I don’t need your charity, and I certainly don’t need your metaphors.” She pounded the table, open palms. Then she rose and lifted Phoenix out of the high chair with a swoop. “So I’m going to go and get you to bed. Because that’s the responsible thing to do, because I’m so responsible. Later.”

“See you later,” Allyson said, unsure if she was thankful or guilty over how this went down. Probably both.

“Look for your oxygen!” Sean called after Bridget. “You’ll find it.”

Sean let out a large, heavy sigh. “I thought that went well.” His words disagreed with the look on his face, but Allyson remembered something else. Something very important she forgot to mention.

The words spilled out before she could hold them back. “And also, Marco is bringing the twins over because he’s afraid to watch them alone.” She offered a weak smile. “Surprise!” She added in a sing-song voice, and then winced. “Sorry.”

“That’s a lot of kids.” Sean put on a brave face, and Allyson remembered why she loved him. She promised herself then that she’d get her oxygen, and make his sacrifice worth it.

Five more days. Just five more days.

CHAPTER SIX

Allyson crossed out the last day on the calendar page.

FREEDOM she’d written in big letters on Saturday, and now today was the day.

The house was quiet, too quiet, as she got dressed. But she didn’t want to think about that—worry about that. Sean was here, and he was taking care of the kids. Tonight was her night. This was her oxygen.

She went to her closet and pulled out her rhinestone, studded stilettos. The shoes that she had just cried into a few days before. She smoothed her dress, slipped on her heels, and then put on the rhinestone bracelet and matching earrings she’d gotten two anniversaries ago but had never worn. Then Allyson took tentative steps to the bathroom to finish her makeup. Her ankles wobbled a little as she walked, and she realized it had been a long time—too long—since she’d worn heels like this.

Standing in front of the mirror Allyson was pleased with what she saw. It was better than the jeans and soft tees that she usually wore.

With soft swipes she put on her lipstick. Her hair was pinned up in a Betty Grable sort of way and it looked . . . nice.

She stepped back from the mirror, and for the first time in a long time she was happy by how she looked, pleased even. She picked up a small bottle of perfume and sprayed her wrists. The scent of orange blossoms drifted up. Perfect. Then with tentative steps she walked down the stairs, pausing by the door to glance at their kids. They were glued in front of the television watching an old
Tom and Jerry
cartoon, Sean’s favorite, but he was nowhere to be seen. She glanced at the time on her cell phone and hurried outside. She had just enough time to pick up Izzy and Sondra and make it to Chez Magique in time for their reservation.

She hurriedly exited the house, snapping her clutch closed as she walked, and spotted Sean wrangling Beck’s car seat out of her minivan.

Sean froze when he saw her. His jaw dropped. He eyed her from head to foot and back up again. “Wow.”

She tugged on the bottom hem of her dress, hoping it wasn’t too short, and offered a tentative smile.

“Wow, honey, you look amazing.”

“Are you sure tonight’s okay? Because I’m starting to feel guilty again.”

“It’s fine. Com’on, yes. You’re gonna have fun. I’ve got this. I’m not going to call you unless it’s a natural disaster. And then I might not even call you. The house may be flying . . .” He waved his hands from side to side for emphasis. “And I’m not even calling you at that point.”

She chuckled, relief flooding her. He cared for her . . . he really did, and he wanted this for her.

“Promise me that you’ll do one thing,” Sean continued, his voice softening to almost a whisper. “Promise me that you’ll do whatever it takes to unplug and just breathe.”

Allyson closed her eyes. She blew out a heavy breath. Peace filled her just thinking about that. Her husband was so sweet. She didn’t deserve him. She didn’t deserve this . . . but he was right. She needed it.

She let her eyes flutter open. “I promise.”

Then, with the sweetest smile, Sean handed her the keys for her van.

Peace filled her, but it was short lived. The roar of a car’s engine interrupted the quiet moment. She recognized that sound. Her head flipped around, and a red Chevy Nova parked in the street.

“Uncle Kevin!” Brandon called out as he raced out of the house.

Man-boy Kevin wore torn jeans, a ratty T-shirt, and a green sweatshirt that had seen better days. Brandon leapt into Kevin’s arms with abandon.

Kevin nodded to her as he strode past. “Allyson.” He hoisted Brandon up on his arm like a trophy.

“Kevin?” She lifted one eyebrow and turned back to Sean.

“Yeah, Kevin’s coming,” he muttered, scratching his cheek. “He’s gonna help with the kids.” He swallowed hard. “He
might
help with the kids.”

She lifted the other eyebrow.

“He’s here to help. He had a free night,” Sean hurriedly added.

“Kevin is babysitting?” she hurriedly asked.

“No, I’m babysitting.” Sean pointed to himself. “Kevin’s just here.”

“Get in here, Stout Flipper, let’s do this,” Kevin called to him.

Allyson turned back to him. “What?”

“It’s gamer time.” Kevin growled.

She turned back to Sean who wore a pained expression.

“Please tell me you’re not going to play those violent video games—”

“Double kill!” Brandon called out.

She gasped. “—with our son.” She shook her head in disbelief.

“Triple kill!” he shouted louder.

“You know, you’re going to have to define violence.” Sean guided her to the van. “Because do you know that Lego game you bought? Those characters shatter like into a million pieces.”

Her mouth circled into an O. Was he really saying this . . . as if she’d change her mind and agree with him? “What? What?!”

“That—that Lego game is sick. Right?”

Allyson gasped, unsure with how to respond. Was he joking? “I—I . . .” No words came.

Sean motioned take large breaths. “Just breathe, breathe.”

He took a deep breath, and then blew it out, as if expecting her to mimic him. Anger buzzed in her temples and quickened her heartbeat. But she had a choice. Was this a battle she wanted to fight? Not tonight it wasn’t.

She tilted back her head and sucked in a long deep breath, stroked the back of her neck with her free hand, trying to will away the tension, and then released it.

Sean’s hands pressed together, as if in prayer, and she knew he was holding back the urge to usher her into the van. She told herself to leave. To walk away. This wasn’t a battle she needed to fight at this moment.

“I don’t want to know.” She opened the van door, blinking rapidly. “Not tonight, because I love everybody,” she said, forcing a smile.

“Destroy them all!” Brandon bellowed. His words broke her feigned calm.

Allyson spun around and rushed toward Kevin. She took two steps, and Sean caught her arm.

Allyson waved her small purse toward Kevin as if it was a weapon. “Okay, do you know what childhood friends do eventually?”

Kevin smirked. “Oh, just say it.”

She bobbed her head like Queen Latifah. “They grow up!”

“There it is!” Kevin called out.

“One night, dude!” Sean scolded him.

Sean ushered her into the van, and quickly closed the door behind her. Her hands trembled as she grabbed the steering wheel, but she decided again not to let this bother her.

Let it go. Let it good.

Seeing that she was staying put, Sean relaxed his shoulders and took a step toward the house. “Okay, good.
I
have to breathe,” she heard Sean mutter from the other side of the glass.

Allyson put her key into the ignition, and told herself that Sean was right. It was only one night. One night for her—for her friends—and as she pulled out she pushed all thoughts of Triple Kill out of her mind.

Well, mostly.

Izzy stared at the white pregnancy test in her hands. Her breaths came fast, quick. “Izzy. Breathe, breathe.”

She held it up, noticing two pink lines. Just like the three previous tests she’d taken. She had dressed up in a new coral-colored skirt that fit strangely tight around the waist. Her intense hunger prodded her to take the test. Not the small “Oh-I-wish-I-had-something-to-eat” hunger, but the “food-must-enter-my-body-now” hunger that she only experienced when she was pregnant with the twins.

A knock sounded at the door. Unless it was the pizza man, she wasn’t interested.

“Hold on!” she shouted.

She placed a hand on her hip, and studied yet another test. “This is beautiful!” She tried to convince herself. But she wasn’t very convincing.

She put the lid down on the toilet, sat, and then stared at the test. “Oh crap!”

Marco needed full, detailed daily instructions for the two kids they had now. What was she going to do when another one . . . or two . . . joined them?

She rose and hurried out the bathroom door. Marco was standing there with his list in hand. It was one night. ONE. Did he seriously have to freak out like that?

She rushed past him to the kitchen to get her phone, hoping there was a text from Allyson telling her she was almost there.

“I know you’ll do great!” she called to her husband.

Steak? Chicken? Both?
Would she look like a freak if she got two appetizers too?

Izzy moved around the kitchen with frantic movements. She lifted potato chip bags and blankies. She moved boxes of cereal and toys looking for her keys and purse.

“Okay, I mean I have the wipies,” Marco said as he followed her. “And I have the diapers. I have no red dye because I know it drives them crazy, right. But you said there were three emergency numbers.” He scanned the list she’d left him again, waving it as if it was defective. “But I only have two, Izzy. Your mother’s and—”

Izzy lifted a hand, halting his words. “Stop second-guessing yourself.” She paused and glanced into his eyes—his glazed over and terrified eyes.

“You know I’m actually not.” He swallowed hard and leaned against the counter, repeating the words she’d seen him rehearsing in the mirror just an hour earlier. “I have full confidence in myself and my abilities as a father.”

She offered him what she hoped was a reassuring grin. “It’s one night. I believe in you.”

Marco gritted his teeth. “And you should . . . n’t.”

Izzy lifted her eyebrows. “I mean, what’s the worst that can happen?”

“Serious injury, death.” Marco’s voice quivered. “They can get maimed. I can lose both children!!” Marco fanned himself with his hands. “We have to turn the air on. Oh, it’s getting hot in here. I feel hot!”

She nodded and then turned toward the door. “So, good luck!” she called back as she hurried out.

Twenty steps and she found herself at Allyson’s van and swung open the door.

“Ah, you look gorgeous!” Allyson squealed.

Izzy climbed into the car with a determined set to her chin. “Okay, I want to have crazy fun. Get me out of here. Now!”

“You got it!” Allyson pursed her lips. “Yes, ma’am.” She started the car with flair, and they were off to pick up the third Musketeer.

Allyson turned on the radio. A crazy cool rock song played, and they danced in the front seat like they were eighteen again and they had their daddy’s car for the night. Izzy lifted her arms and rocked out to the beat. Allyson gripped the steering wheel and rocked her shoulders as she drove, digging the song.

For one night they weren’t going to have to pause their dinner for a potty break. Didn’t have to cut someone else’s hot dog into tiny little pieces or refill a sippy cup. They could talk at a normal tone and speak of other things other than poo poo and farts. Just the idea of it was a magical thing.

And Izzy forced herself to push those pregnancy tests out of her mind. Tomorrow . . . tomorrow she’ll think about how this was going to add a tilt to her already unbalanced life.

***