The Secret Desires of a Soccer Mom (9 page)

“Because…” I felt a stirring of the
emotions I’d been suppressing. “…Because I love you two… so much.” Chloe gaped
at me like I’d just told her I was actually a lesbian. Thankfully, the doorbell
rang, signalling Mrs. Williams arrival and my, somewhat relieved, departure.

Moments later I was on Carly’s doorstep.
Even as I lifted the heavy, brass knocker, I had no idea what I was going to
say to her, but she had to be told. And if she already knew, she had to be
comforted. When there was no response after several seconds, I tried again… and
then again. Maybe she was downtown at a meeting? Or sharing a free Diet Coke
with the vending machine guy? I knocked one last time, and was just turning to
go, when the door opened.

“Oh, hi, Paige,” Carly said brightly.
Obviously, she didn’t know. She was wearing baggy, navy blue sweatpants, and a
large, white T-shirt that said “Molson Canadian Rocks”. Around her neck were
slung the headphones of the iPod she clutched in her hand. “Sorry, I didn’t
hear you. I was downstairs in my office and I had my music on.”

“Can I come in for a minute?”

“Sure.” She stepped back to usher me
inside. “Come on in.” In Carly’s three bedroom abode, it would have been easy
to forget that a male of the species existed. Her walls were faux-finished in
shades of peach and cream, a border of stencilled miniature roses running
around the periphery. Her couches were off-white leather, accented with peach
and mauve throw pillows. I perched awkwardly on one, taking in the plethora of
vanilla-scented candles in hand-painted ceramic holders on the coffee table
before me.

“Can I get you anything?” Carly asked. “Cup
of tea? Glass of wine? Diet Coke?”

“No… no thanks. Umm… why don’t you sit
down?”

“Okay.” She plopped down beside me.

“I have to tell you something… something
terrible.”

“What?

“Uh… It’s… it’s… Karen...”

“Karen? What is it?”

I reached out and took both her hands in
mine. “I don’t know hot to say this Carly… I just... I’m just going to come
right out and say it. Karen… Karen has… passed on.”

“What! Oh my God!” She pulled her hands
from mine and covered the lower part of her face.

“I know, hon. It’s just so… terrible, so…
tragic.”

“But, she can’t be dead. I just saw her
this morning. What-what happened?”

I heaved a heavy sigh. “I don’t know much,
but it sounds like she fell and hit her head on something in the garage.”

“Oh God,” Carly said quietly, her soft
voice muffled further by her fingers over her mouth. “Oh God. Oh God. Oh God.”

“I know. I know. I know.”

There was a long and mildly uncomfortable
silence. I knew I wasn’t doing a very good job of comforting Carly, but it
wasn’t like I’d had days to come to terms with the tragedy. In fact, I was in
desperate need of some comforting myself. If Paul didn’t get home soon, Karen
wouldn’t be the only one with a head injury. Still, I felt I should be hugging
my friend, or at least holding her hand. But Carly stayed as she was, hands on
her cheeks Macauley Culkin—style, knees drawn up to her chest. Awkwardly, I
patted her shin a couple of times. Finally, I cleared my throat and spoke. “Why
don’t you come to our house? It’s not a good idea to be alone right now.” Carly
didn’t respond. I wasn’t even sure she’d heard me. “Carly… come on. Let’s go to
my place.”

She looked at me then, her hands finally
slipping from their resting place on her cheeks. “Uh… no… No thanks, Paige. I’d
rather be alone.”

“Come on. We’ll call Jane and Trudy. I
think we should all be together at a time like this.”

“No.” Her voice was firm, resolute. She
stood up, obviously my cue to leave. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

And then I was alone in the cool evening
air. I began to walk home but paused on the sidewalk in front of my neighbor’s
home. It had gotten dark, and I turned to stare at the warm, lamp light
illuminating Carly’s sheer, frilly curtains. She was in shock, just like I had
been—still was. I hoped I’d made the right decision, leaving her home alone to
grieve. I didn’t have a lot of mourning experience, thankfully. Other than my
grandparents and several hamsters, my life had been largely untouched by death.
On TV, grief was best dealt with in large, sobbing groups. But maybe that was
just in mafia movies. This was Denver. This was Aberdeen Mists. This was real.

When I entered the warmth of my own home,
Mrs. Williams was busy in the kitchen making tomato soup and grilled-cheese
sandwiches for the children.

“Thanks so much, Mavis,” I said, padding
quietly into the kitchen in my stocking feet.

“Can I fix you something, dear?” She turned
to face me. “You’ve suffered a terrible shock, and this must be so hard for
you. I know you two girls were such good friends.” As my chin began to quiver,
Mrs. Williams put down the flipper, and pulled me into her rose scented bosom.
And that did it. That gesture of sympathy released all the sorrow I’d been
repressing. I felt a deep, painful sob shudder in my chest. I didn’t want the
kids to see me fall apart—at least not until I’d had a chance to explain what
had happened.

“Would you mind staying a little longer?” I
asked, in a voice hoarse with emotion. “Just until Paul gets home?”

“Of course, dear. I’ll stay as long as you
need me.”

And with that, I escaped to the quiet and
seclusion of my bedroom, where I cried for all I was worth.

Somehow, I managed to sleep that night.
When Paul got home, he brought me a glass of brandy and some painkillers left
over from when he’d had his root canal. That may have helped a little. “Take these,”
he’d said, handing me two small, white tablets. “You need to rest. This has
been such a huge shock to your system. You’ve just lost one of your best
friends.” This set me off weeping hysterically again, but I managed to choke
down the pills and most of the brandy. While I knew mixing alcohol and
narcotics was not normally a good idea, this was not a normal time. And I
needed to numb myself, to turn off the pain, at least for a little while.

When I awoke, I enjoyed a brief moment of
innocent contentment before the horrible reality of the situation descended
upon me like a leaden blanket. Paul had taken the kids to school and had
offered to stay home if I needed him. I’d sent him off to work, confident that
a little time alone would help me come to terms with Karen’s death. But this
morning, I suddenly felt so isolated, even uneasy in my empty house. Rolling
over, I grabbed the phone off the side table and called Jane.

“How are you?” she asked, sounding much
stronger than she had the previous night.

“I don’t know. I’m as good as can be
expected, I guess.”

“Me, too. I’m devastated of course, but I’m
holding it together. Not like poor Trudy.”

“Trudy?” I hadn’t called Trudy yet, mostly
because I wasn’t worried about her. I just assumed that Trudy would be a pillar
of strength, busily making casseroles for Doug and sweets for the eventual
funeral.

“Trudy’s fallen apart. She can’t even get
out of bed. Carly’s gone to look after her. She even had to take Emily and
Cameron to school. Ken’s not back from his business trip until the weekend.”

“Thank God for Carly,” I said. “Did you
talk to her?”

“She called early this morning.”

“How’s she holding up? When I left her last
night, she was still reeling.”

“She seems to have pulled herself together.
And you know Carly… She’s always there for everyone else. She’s looking after
Trudy and already baking muffins to take over to Doug.”

“Good… that’s good.”

“I told her I’d stay with the kids this
afternoon, if she needs a break.”

“Or they could come here to play with Chloe
and Spencer.” I’m sure I could put up with the odious little creatures for one
afternoon.

“I’ll let her know.”

“So… is it appropriate to go see Doug now?”
I asked. “I’ve got some… banana bread that I wanted to take over.”

“I think so. It will probably make him feel
better to know that he has our support. Becca’s whipping up a pecan bar, right
now. Daniel and I are going to take it over this afternoon and give him our
condolences.”

Of course, I had no banana bread. I didn’t
even have any bananas, but I had to see Doug. Maybe then, Karen’s tragic death
would feel real to me. Plus, I had to see for myself how Doug was handling the
situation. I couldn’t help but think that there was something fishy about
Karen’s sudden demise. No one else seemed to have a problem with the
“fell-over-and-conked-head-in- garage’ scenario, but then, no one else knew
what I did.

I quickly showered, dressed and headed
downstairs. In the kitchen, I rummaged through the cupboards in search of a
condolence offering for Doug. I really wasn’t up for baking, not to mention the
fact that I was short on a number of ingredients. At first, my search seemed
futile: juice boxes, fruit roll ups, goldfish crackers, cans of tomato soup….
None of these seemed a particularly appropriate gift for a grieving widower.
That’s when I spotted the blue box at the back of the cupboard—individually
wrapped Rice Krispies squares. Yes! Could there be any greater comfort food
than the Rice Krispies square? And, they were also low in fat and cholesterol.
I’m sure Becca’s pecan bars couldn’t claim that. Hurriedly, I retrieved the box
and began ripping open the foil packets. When I had opened fourteen pouches, I
placed the squares on a plate, squishing them with the palm of my hand for
authenticity. Adequately misshapen, I had just begun to wrap them in plastic
wrap, when I was interrupted by the phone.

“How are you doing, babe?” It was Paul.

“I’m okay—sad, but okay. How were the kids
this morning?”

“They were good. I explained to them what
happened, and that mommy needs some time alone.”

“What did you say about Karen?”

“I told them the truth. Karen had a very
bad accident. She fell and hit her head, and now she’s gone to heaven.”

God, if only that was the truth. I don’t
mean the heaven part. Not being a religious person, I didn’t believe in the
traditional, angels-and-pearly-gates kind of heaven. And even if it did exist,
I wasn’t sure they’d be letting the likes of Karen in; I’ve heard they frown on
adultery there. But I wished her death was simply, as Paul said, a very bad
accident. Deep in my gut, I knew it couldn’t be that easy.

Paul continued. “So, do you have any plans
today? Are you and the girls getting together?”

“Actually, I’m going to see Doug. I made
him some Rice Krispies squares.”

“Oh. Do you think he’s ready to have
visitors?”

“Well, I think it’s important that he knows
we’re here for him. Jane agrees.”

There was a brief pause before my husband
spoke again. “You’re right. He needs to know he’s got friends who care about
him. Give me forty-five minutes and I’ll come with you.”

“Uh… no, that’s okay,” I stammered. I
didn’t want Paul to accompany me. There were questions I needed to ask Doug,
questions that would undoubtedly sound strange to Paul. I didn’t need him there
to censor me. “You’re busy, and you can see Doug later. We don’t want to
overwhelm him.”

“I want to come, Paige. I want to be there
for you.” Oh sure, pick
now
to become caring and supportive. “Besides,
Karen and Doug were just over at our house a few days ago. Christ, I still
can’t believe it.”

“Okay, fine,” I acquiesced. “But hurry up.
If you’re not here in forty-five, I’m going by myself.”

Unfortunately, Paul arrived home
thirty-eight minutes later. “There’s no traffic at this time of day,” he said,
sounding very pleased with himself.

“Great,” I mumbled, smoothing the plastic
wrap around my ‘baking”. “Let’s go.”

Paul held my arm supportively as we walked
down the street toward Karen and Doug’s house. Well, I guess it was just Doug’s
house now, but that was going to take some getting used to. I clutched the
off-white ceramic plate with both hands, my fingers beginning to ache with the
tension. My heart was beating loudly in my chest and my throat was
uncomfortably dry. I felt nervous and panicky. Was I really ready to face Doug?
What if I somehow sensed that he’d had something to do with Karen’s fall? What
then? Did I call the police? Tell Paul? Would Paul be angry that I hadn’t
disclosed the information about Karen’s affair sooner? God, I wished I had. But
I couldn’t bring it up now. It would be tasteless to slander the dead. And if
it did turn out to be nothing more than a bizarre attached garage accident, I
didn’t want to sully Karen’s good name.

“Here we are,” Paul said, clearing his
throat nervously as we stood on Doug’s front steps.

“Yep,” I agreed. “Here we are.”

“Well… ring the bell.”

“You ring it. I’ve got my hands full with
these delicious Rice Krispies treats.”

“…Okay.” Reaching forward, he pressed the
mother-of-pearl button, then quickly stepped back to stand slightly behind me,
the coward. We could hear the chimes sounding within the house. Moments later,
the door swung open.