The Real Soccer Moms of Beaver County (13 page)

D
eath By Doug

I’m not sure what is more annoying right now, Luna dry heaving and her non-stop bitching or the sexy glances Doug keeps sending my way. At one point, he frenched the fucking whistle right in front of me. My dick shriveled and died.

“What the hell is up with Doug today?” Blanche turns and asks me.

I’ve never been good with a poker face, so I fight like a bitch to conceal the guilt. “Who knows? Maybe hitting on Moira.”

I’m so going to hell. Lying to my best friend and now blaming poor whore Moira.

Shit, shit, shit…I’m never getting drunk and freeing my willy in Beaver Falls again.

“He keeps looking at you with fuck me eyes. Moira is a good ten feet away.” Blanche doesn’t give up. She’s like a fucking drug-sniffing dog on a mission.

“Who knows with that creep? He’s probably flirting with you to piss off Moira.”

“I don’t think so, Queenie.” Blanche keeps her vision glued on the game, while studying Doug’s movements while he refs.

“I’m sure he’s just fueling the fire between you and Moira.”

Blanche turns to me and slaps my arm. “I forgot to tell you.”

“Ouch.” I rub the stinging pain out in my arm. “What?”

She pulls down her oversized, designer shades. “Old lady Woy was gossiping with my mom the other day at the funeral home when delivering flowers.”

“God, what now? The old biddy knows everyone’s business.”

My question is put on pause as Saige makes another goal for the team. Our sideline goes wild and it’s quite the change from our first game. Us Beaver Falls' parents have really banded together to cheer on our kids.

“It’s about Douchey Doug,” she finally replies.

My butt cheeks clench in fear of what her next words are going to be. ‘I’m busted’ flashes in neon lights across my forehead.

“She saw Doug and…”

Luna leaps from her seat on a rampage about a penalty call against our team. Quite frankly, I still don’t understand this game and just focus on which end our team is suppose to kick to. Brady pulls her back down in her seat, holding her down by the top of her shoulders.

“Calm down, killer,” he coos to her.

“Don’t you think it’s odd how close Moira is sitting to the coach and not Luna?” I try to distract Blanche.

“No, she’s a whoira. Listen, dammit,” Blanche swivels in her seat. “She saw Doug and Moira making out. I guess it was pretty heated with clothes flying everywhere. Can you fucking believe she’s still going for him to piss me off?”

All the tension and fear evaporate from me, and I relax back into my chair. “Maybe she was horny? It happens to the best of us.”

“No, she’s still trying to one up me.”

“Whatever, you don’t even like Doug.”

“Ewwww. He’s so gross. I wouldn’t touch him with a ten-foot pole or have sex with him if we were the last man left on Earth.”

“She was probably horny,” I say again, knowing the damn feeling all to well.

“And desperate and dumb…”

Clancy interrupts us and I praise the blowjob gods.

“You need to calm down. Remember what the doctor said.” Clancy gets down on one knee in front of her and begins kissing her.

“I’m calm.” She manages to get out between kisses.

He pulls back just enough to talk. “I can see your brows scrunched up and the pissy Blanche stare from the sidelines.”

He kisses her several more times.

“I was just telling Queenie about Moira.”

“Stop, Blanche.” He kisses her forehead before jogging back to the sideline.

“Fuck,” she blurts out. “Now, I’m horny. I mean look at that ass in those workout pants.”

“Yeah,” I agree, studying his ass. Clancy Bogart is the king of the ugly duckling story, one nut and all.

“And, my hell, does that guy know how to please.” Blanche pulls back down her shades and focuses on the action on the field. “I had no idea how many years it had been since I had really good sex, like toe curling sex.”

She continues on about the sex for the rest of the game like we were having a girl’s night out, sipping wine and not in the middle of a crowd at a soccer game. Both sidelines of parents ride Doug like an orphan on all of his calls, which makes him focus on the field and not me.

I throw the treats at the kids and usher Annie off the field as if a case of lightening diarrhea struck me out of nowhere.

“Queenie, want to come over?” I hear Blanche holler when I’m halfway off the field.

“No, it’s our picnic day,” I holler back not making eye contact with anyone.

“What’s wrong, Q?” Annie looks up to me with a bright red Gatorade stain circling her lips.

“Just don’t want to miss our date, missy,” I ruffle her hair and ease her worries.

By the time we make it across Main Street and half way down the cemetery road, everything is right in the world. I let Annie lead the way to her father’s headstone. She skips and hums the whole way. Sorrow has never hit Annie during our weekly visits. And she’s always quick to thank me for letting her have some daddy time.

I wasn’t around much when she was little, but do know from my brother’s texts and calls that they were as close two can get.

“Q, it’s a gorgeous day.”

“Yes, it is, Annie.” I take a seat next to her in front of the headstone adorned with the US flag and his ranks, but most of all his proudest achievement, “Father”.

I spread out our lunch and listen to Annie rattle off to her dad about her new friend, Sadie, and the soccer team. She’s sprawled out on her belly, kicking her cleats up in the air, with her balled up fists under her chin.

“Daddy, I have even made two goals. It’s ashually fun.”

I’ve seen Annie’s competitive side come out to play the last few games and knew it was hidden deep down inside her somewhere. I place her plate in front of her.

“You’re the jelly to my peanut butter, daddy.” She takes a large bite out of her peanut butter and jelly sandwich. “And you know what, daddy? Q is the bread that holds us together.”

I don’t even try to conceal the tears as they roll down my cheeks. Annie may never know how much her compliment means. I’ve spent many restless nights tossing and turning, wondering if I’m doing this right or just fucking her up. My father’s evil words always seem to haunt me and diminish any of my self-confidence. However, with Annie’s reassurance it now makes them null and void.

T
he Worst Call

“That was fast, Queenie.” I’m greeted by Mr. Morningwood at the top of the stairs.

“Not much hair to work with on Mr. Vernon, and his wife had strict instructions on how she wanted it styled.” We both share a laugh. “I’m pretty sure it’s laid in that same comb over his whole life. Well trained hair.”

He pats me on the shoulder and offers up a warm smile. “You’re a good man, Queenie. Proud to have you as part of our family here.”

“Thanks,” I nod. “Means a lot to me, Mr. Morningwood.”

Every day that passes, I become more and more settled here in Beaver Falls. It’s almost, and I mean almost, a place I can envision myself calling home forever.

Moira’s proudly showing Mrs. Morningwood the latest pet she stuffed. Although, the whole idea of getting your pet stuffed is bizarre, I must admit Moira is damn good at what she does.

“Hey.” I turn to the group. “Where’s my Blanchey-Boo?”

Luna walks out of her office with her gaze on a file folder, doesn’t look up before she answers. “Doctor’s. Yearly check-up thingy on her lady bits.”

“Gotcha,” I nod.

And I know she’s not getting her check-up and her appointment was just a week ago. I’m no Obstetrician, but this early women don’t go that often. As soon as I wave my farewell and step out into the sunlight my phone rings, it’s Clancy.

“Queenie,” I answer in my sing-songy voice.

“I need you at my house now.”

“What?”

“Hurry, please. I need help.”

He ends the call before I can even ask a question.
Shit, Clancy lives out on the edge of town.
I send a quick text to Luna letting her know I’d be back in a few hours and to keep Annie after the play date along with Sadie. The whole drive I run different scenarios through my head. I even ring Blanche a few times and only get her voicemail.

Is her hair caught in his fly or what?
Jesus, would it have killed Clancy to offer up a few more details. When I pull into the driveway Clancy is pacing back and forth on his porch.
I guess Blanche’s hair isn’t caught in his zipper.

“What’s going on?” I hop from the truck and feel the anxiety attack me when I make eye contact with Clancy. He’s been crying.

“Clancy,” I finally yell. “What in the hell is going on?”

In a low whisper with a defeated undertone, he simply replies, “She lost the baby.”

“Fuck.” I run my hands through my hair. “Where is she?”

“In the downstairs bathroom. She won’t let me in.”

“Call Brady. I’ll go talk to her.”

“She doesn’t want anyone to know, Queenie.” Clancy collapses on a bench with his face buried in his palms.

“He’s your best friend and you need him right now. Call or I will.”

I open the front door and enter the silent home, but before I look for the bathroom I send Brady a quick text. I don’t care right now who wants what. I’m only concerned about who needs what.

Soft sobs echoing from the end of the hall let me know where Blanche is. I knock on the door and wait.

“Go away, Clancy.”

“It’s me, Queenie.”

Silence floats between us.

“Let me in or I’ll bust down this fucker.”

Laughter between sobs floats from the bathroom. “You couldn’t if you tried.”

“Don’t test me, Blanche.” I slam on the door harder and then wring out my aching fist.

The door clicks, but doesn’t open. By the time I swing it open Blanche is huddled on the granite tile in a corner. Her face buried.

“Lock the door.”

I do what she asks then sit across from her on the floor and let her cry. I take her hand and keep it clutched in mine.

“It’s my fault, Queenie.”

“What is, baby?”

Blanche finally looks up to me through her tears and lines of black mascara running down her face.

“I never wanted that baby.” She barely gets the words out between her sobs.

Before she has the chance to retract back into her cocoon, I grab her wrist and pull her into my lap.

“That has nothing to do with it.” She buries her head in my chest as I smooth out her hair. “You were going through the biggest change of your life, Blanche. It’s not that you didn’t want it, it was because your future was unknown.”

She shakes her head from side to side. “I hate Luis and how he abandoned Sadie, and I didn’t want that for another child. It’s my fault.”

“Blanche, stop.”

“You should’ve seen Clancy’s face when I started bleeding everywhere.”

“He’s out on the porch crying for you, Blanche.”

“He was disappointed.”

“No, he’s afraid and hurting for you.” I squeeze her tight in my arms. “Take your time processing this, but don’t let it ruin what you have going.”

Her sobs continue to wrack her petite body. I’ve never seen Blanche Morningwood this broken down and hurt. She’s typically telling the world to fuck off and concealing her anger and hurt. I hear muted voices outside the door and reach up to unlock it.

The door slowly opens with Brady and Clancy filling the frame. Blanche doesn’t look and continues to cry. Her tears are the kind that’ll never dry up

“I’m always so selfish and never appreciate what I have.” Her sobs attack each of her words. “It’s my fault.”

Before I have a chance to say a word, Brady’s drops to his knees next to us.

“Bullshit, sister. Luna’s had miscarriages, it just happens.”

She doesn’t look up, my shirt muffles her words. “Luis was right. I’m a worthless, spoiled asshole from Iowa.”

“Enough,” Brady grabs her head forcing her to look up. “Fucking enough, Blanche. You’re home where you belong. That worthless fucker can’t control you. Blanche, you’re the most loving and kind person I know. And if we want to start a shitty parent contest then I guarantee I’d kick your ass.”

Blanche wipes her nose with the back of her hand and then glances up to Clancy. The suffocating bathroom grows silent and tense when their eyes meet.

“I’m so sorry, Clancy.” She stands to her feet, wobbly at first with her whole body trembling.

“Baby, there’s nothing to be sorry about.”

Blanche melts into Clancy’s open arms. He has her held tight to his chest in a matter of seconds.

“I’m tired, Clancy.”

She wraps her legs around his waist and lays her head on the top of his shoulder.

“I’ll take you to bed.” He turns and begins slowly walking.

“Please don’t leave me, Clancy.”

“Never, baby, as long as you keep letting me in. I’ve always loved you, Blanche.”

The door to the master bedrooms shuts.

“Fuck.” Brady falls back on the wall leaving me speechless. “I’ve never been able to handle it when she’s hurting.”

“At least she’s home.” I whisper looking down at my tear soaked shirt.

“I’ve never had the desire to go to L.A., but I do now. I want to kill that fucker.”

“Hate is the last thing that will help this situation, Brady.”

“He gave up all rights to Sadie. Blanche doesn’t know I know. I took the call the other day from lawyer. The selfish motherfucker gave up Sadie.”

“They’re both better off without that bastard.”

“You’re a great guy, Queenie, thanks for being here for her.”

“No thanks needed.”

Brady and I sit in silence for a long time before he leaves. He’s agreed to keep Annie overnight, so I can stay here with Blanche and Clancy. He’s only going to tell Luna about the miscarriage since she’s the only other person who knew Blanche was expecting.

I finally make it to Clancy’s overstuffed leather couch and plop down on it. Not even motivated, or have the heart, to turn on the television or surf social media. Blanche’s broken heart and soul makes me sick. I’m hurting right along with her. I know better than anyone else around her, what it’s like to be broken by the world. You feel so out of control and hopeless.

Blanche may be the hometown snobby bitch, but she only got that persona by leaving Beaver Falls and trying to better herself. Yeah, her plans fell through, but she came back stronger and with the joy of her life, Sadie. I do something I rarely do. I’m not sure I even fully believe in the power of it.

I drop to my knees, and pray for Blanche and her family. She’s a fighter and will get through this. And this time, she has love on her side.

Clancy’s fridge is well stocked with lots of food, and fresh fruits and vegetables. I grill up some chicken, vegetables, and make a green salad. I’m not sure if either of them will want to eat, but they need to. Once everything is piping hot, I sneak down the hallway and place my ear on the door before I barge in. It’s dead silent, not even a sob or wail.

“Clancy,” I whisper.

He peeks his head up, keeping Blanche clutched to him, and gives me a nod.

“I have dinner ready.”

Clancy shushes me with his finger to his lip.
Hell, I was barely whispering.

“You guys need to eat.”

He shakes his head back and forth signaling no.

“Yes, he does need to eat,” Blanche says, rolling over in Clancy’s arms.

Her voice startles me. “Jesus, you scared the shit out of me.”

Blanche lets out a pathetic chuckle and sits up in bed. “Can you bring dinner in here?”

“Sure thing, Blanchey-Boo.”

I rush back into the kitchen and grab the two plates I already prepared out of the oven. and figure the beer in the fridge is Clancy’s so I grab him two and a glass of ice water for Blanche.

“Now that’s service,” Clancy says with a smile.

He doesn’t wait for the go ahead before shoveling the food in his mouth. I nudge Blanche’s closer to her in bed.

“Where’s yours?” She asks.

“I ate too much while cooking.”

“Damn, Queenie, you’re going to make someone a fine piece of ass someday.” Clancy shovels another bite in. “You can cook.”

“I’m going to shower,” Blanche says as she gets up off the bed.

“I’ll go with you, baby.” Clancy is up and by her side.

“No, please, I just need to shower.”

“The doctor said not to leave you unattended.” The irritation grows in Clancy’s voice.

“I’ll go help her.” I stand up from the bed and guide her by the waist into the master bathroom.

“Can you get me a shirt and boxers from Clancy?”

“You, cross dresser, you!” I squeeze her cheek and shake her head a bit, which only gets a small smile. “Here, I’ll start the water and holler at Clancy.”

“Jesus, I could holler…” Blanche tries to argue.

“CLANCY, shirt and boxers, stat.”

He’s flying into the bathroom in a matter of seconds, placing the clothes by the sink and then running his hands through his hair. “Hey, I’m not trying to be an asshole here, but she’s my girl and you’re are technically a man. I’m not okay with you seeing her naked.”

Blanche and I look at each other and both share a good laugh.

“You haven’t told him, have you?”

She shakes her head no.

“Blanche made me realize just how gay I am. I tried to stick my dick in her and ran. Clancy, you have nothing to worry about.”

“Please go rest, baby, let Queenie take care of me,” Blanche wraps him up in a hug and then kisses him a bit too long for my comfort.

Clancy finally gives in and closes the door behind him. I start the water and help her sit down on a stone bench in the bathroom. The area is fit for royalty with immaculate details everywhere.

“Raise your hands, Blanche.” I pull her top off and undo her hair, letting her long locks down.

“I’m sad, Q, I’m just so damn sad.”

I kneel down so I’m face level with her. “I know, Blanchey-Boo, but try to find faith in something and hold onto it. You’re a great mother.”

“I lost a baby. How can I be a great mother?”

“Blanche, it wasn’t you. I’m going to be here every single day of your life to remind you of that.”

She buries her face in her palms and cries.

“You need to keep crying. Let it out, baby girl, and let your loved ones be here to help you.”

“I don’t know if Clancy can have babies.”

“Blanche, there’s so many other options. Heal your broken heart right now, sweetie.”

I stand her up and undress her, knowing that our conversation could go on forever and ever. I double-check the temperature of the water, knowing she loves the piping hot temperature while showering. Everyone races to the shower before Blanche uses up all of the hot water. I keep the shower door kicked open with boot and guide her under the arm holding while she steps over the ledge. I lay a quick kiss on her temple before closing the door.

Once she’s in the shower, I open the door to ease Clancy’s concern. He walks back into the room with another full plate, and I nod to him letting him know everything is okay.

I sit and listen to Blanche while she showers. Several times, I want to open the shower door to make sure she’s still standing, but I give her the time she needs. Once she’s out, I let her dry off and help her as much as I can, but there’s a point I have to leave because she refuses to let me see her still lightly bleeding.

It takes her several more moments to finish up before she pulls open the cracked door. Her wet and matted hair falls in chunks over her shoulders, her eyes swollen and red, and her spirit still crushed.

“Now eat, woman.” I usher her to the bed and force her to sit.

Blanche picks up her fork and begins stirring around the food, barely nibbling at it. I do my best trying to comb out her hair, but finally go and get a dab of conditioner to glide through it. Goes against all my beliefs, but it’s better than ripping it from her scalp. My fingers can’t help but to french braid her hair into one bulky braid, and then the three of us settle into bed.

“Who would’ve ever thought that I’d be sandwiched in bed with Clancy Bogart and Queenie. I’m one damn lucky girl.”