Troubles and Treats (15 page)

“Oh Jesus, do NOT let her smoke,” Liz mutters to Claire.

“You can’t tell me what to do if you won’t even look at my VAGINA!” I complain.

“YAY VAGINA!” some guy yells as he walks by our table.

“WOOOOHOOO VAGINA!” I shout back.  “Hey, stud!  Give me a cigarette!”

The very nice gentleman stops and runs back to our table and hands me a cigarette,
lighting it for me since I probably shouldn’t be in charge of anything that can set
things on fire at this moment.

I inhale and immediately start coughing and dry heaving.

“Fuck, she’s going to puke,” Liz complains.  “Take her mind off of it.”

Claire pats me on the back and takes the cigarette out of my hand, tossing it over
into the grass a few feet away.

“Okay, here’s the deal, Jenny.  Next weekend, you and Drew are going out together
alone.  Carter and I will take Veronica and Billy so you guys can go to dinner and
do whatever.  If you guys are in the groove and you don’t want to stop to call me,
we’ll just keep them overnight,” Claire tells me as she and Liz help me up from the
table.

“I love you, Claire Bear.  You’re the best ever,” I tell her as I wrap my arms around
her waist and put my head on her shoulder.

“I love you too, but I’m still not looking at your vagina.”

“No, Veronica, you are not having candy for lunch,” I tell my daughter for the third
time as I help her out of the car and then race around to the other side to unstrap
Billy from his car seat before he starts screaming his head off.

“Mommy?”

“Yes, sweetie?”

“I WANNA BEAT YOU UP WIGHT NOW!” she yells in the middle of the driveway while stomping
her feet.

Canada, take me away…wait, Canada?  Is that right?  Why would I want Canada to take
me away?  They really need to rethink that commercial.

I ignore Veronica’s temper tantrum over not having candy for lunch while I try to
shush Billy who just woke up from the car ride and is not a happy camper.  He’s screaming
in my ear and smacking me with his little fists, Veronica is screaming by my leg,
and I’m trying to pretend neither one of them exist as I reach into the backseat of
the car and grab my purse, diaper bag, and the four bags of groceries I just picked
up on the way home.

Taking two grumpy children to the grocery store should automatically win me mother
of the freaking year.  Why do people give me such pissy looks as I’m hurrying up and
down the aisles while the kids are screaming?  Do they think I pinch my kids so they’ll
cry and ruin everyone else’s shopping trips?  Maybe I've purposely decided to go to
the store when I know my kids will be the worst behaved.  I do it just to piss off
all of the old, childless people who are stocking up on Metamucil and Depends.

As soon as I get all of the bags in my arms and heft Billy up higher so I don’t drop
him, the two heaviest bags break open at the bottom and the milk, apple juice, a jar
of tomato sauce, and jar of pickles go crashing to the driveway and shatter all over
the place.  I’m just about ready to cry and sit down in the middle of the mess when
I feel a hand on my back and a voice behind me talking to Veronica.

“Hey, little cutie!  Look at the pretty flower I just picked.  How about you go on
inside and help mom put it into a glass of water?”

I turn and see a guy around the age of twenty or so, bent over, handing my daughter
a huge, beautiful sunflower.  She immediately stops shouting, smiles up at him, and
runs towards the front steps.

The guy stands back up and turns to face me, and I notice for the first time that
he isn’t wearing a shirt.

H
oly fucking sweaty six pack abs.  I am so grateful for Indian Summers in Ohio.  Yesterday
it was snowing and today it’s in the seventies.

Billy seems to be just as taken with this guy as Veronica had been and has stopped
his fit of rage and is now staring straight at the guy.  I can’t help staring myself.
He’s gorgeous.  He’s about six feet tall, has shaggy, sandy blonde hair, and pale
blue eyes.  He looks like he could be a surfer.  But there aren’t surfers in Ohio. 
Or are there?  I mean, Lake Erie turns into the ocean like a mile out, doesn’t it? 
That’s how we get waves on the shores of the lake.  I’m pretty sure I read that somewhere.

“I hope you don’t mind about the flower.  I have a niece her age and she loves flowers. 
My name is Jackson, by the way. 
I
just moved in across the street.”

I shake myself out of my stupor of staring at his naked chest and grab the hand he
has held out for me.  I had seen him move in a few weeks ago and we've shared a couple
of neighborly waves whenever we're outside at the same time, but I have never seen
him up close.

“I’m Jenny. It’s nice to meet you. Thank you for doing something to shut her up. 
I was thinking about just going inside and locking her out until she calmed down,”
I joke with a nervous laugh.

Shit, I don’t know this guy at all.  What if he doesn’t get my joke and calls the
police.  Can I get arrested for saying I’m going to lock my three-year-old out of
the house?

Luckily he laughs right along with me and gives me a heart-stopping smile.  I’m totally
not kidding.  My heart stutters for a minute before picking back up.

I start to bend down to pick up some of the mess in the driveway when Jackson puts
his hand on my arm to stop me.

“Hey, don’t worry about this.  I’ll clean it up.  Give me all of the bags and you
go on ahead and get the kids inside.”

He smiles at me again and I kind of want to melt into a puddle of goo in the driveway
with the pickle juice and tomato sauce.

When was the last time Drew smiled at me like that?  Like he wanted to lick my face. 
And when was the last time he ever off
ered to help me with anything,
aside from those weird dishes and laundry comments he made the other night?

I thank Jackson and leave him in the driveway while I usher the kids inside to put
them both down for a nap.

Fifteen minutes later, I am still arguing in the living room with Veronica about taking
a nap when there is a soft knock at the front door before it’s opened a crack.

“Jenny?  Is it okay if I bring these bags in?” Jackson asks, peeking his head in the
door.

“Oh, yes!  Sorry, I forgot to come back out and get them,” I tell him as Veronica
jumps down off of the couch and runs over to him.

“Are you a shit turd?” she asks him in an innocent voice.

“Oh my God, Veronica!  You don’t say that!” I scold her, feeling my face get extremely
red with embarrassment as the Greece God in front of me just stands there, still shirtless,
laughing his ass off.

“I’m sorry,” I tell Jackson as I take the grocery bags from his hand.

“It’s fine. Sometimes I can be a shit turd so at least she was accurate,” he says
with a smile.  “Oh, I swept up the mess and put it in your garbage can in the garage
and then hosed down the driveway. I hope that’s okay.”

I stand there with the bags in my arms just staring at him.

I know he said he would take care of the mess, but I just figured he would be a typical
guy and shove it out of the way with his foot and then go home.  I should ask him
if he can teach Drew some lessons.

He looks away suddenly and pulls a t-shirt out of the back pocket of his jeans and
slips it on over his head, apologizing to me as he does it like he was offending me
or something.  I want to scream at him and tell him it’s more offensive that he put
the shirt back
on
, but then I realize I’m standing here holding a bag full of tampons, panty liners,
douche, and vinegar, and the bag is see through and he just freaking carried it in
for me.

“
The vinegar is for
French
fries.  My husband likes vinegar on his fries, and he likes it on cucumbers when
I make cucumber salad, and I also put it in my homemade Italian dressing, and it totally
doesn’t go with the other stuff in the bag because you know, it’s already scented
flower fresh. I don’t like my ‘down there’ to smell like
French
fries or dressing, ha ha!”

Oh my God, why am I shitting out of my mouth?

Jackson just laughs and for once it feels like someone is laughing with me and not
at me, and I should just get on a bus and go right to hell because I’m ogling someone
that isn’t my husband.

“I’m sorry.  I’m just really tired.  I haven’t slept since my son was born.”

Veronica grabs his hand and starts tugging on it.  “Pway wif me.  I have Barbies!”

“Veronica, no. Jackson probably needs to get back home.”

“I’d love to play Barbies with you, Veronica!” Jackson says at the same time.

He squats down to Veronica’s level and tells her to go get her Barbies and bring them
out so he can see if she has the same ones his niece has.  She’s out of the room before
he even stands back up.

“You don’t have to do this,” I tell him.

“It’s fine, really.  Why don’t you curl up on the couch and rest while we play Barbies.”

I stare at him again and I’m pretty sure my mouth is wide open in complete shock.

“I’m sorry, am I being too pushy?  I’m kind of a stranger and I just asked if I could
play with your daughter.  Is that creepy?” he asks with a chuckle.

Is it creepy?  Am I a horrible mother for wanting to take him up on his offer?  I’m
so God dammed tired I could fall asleep standing up right now.

Veronica runs back into the room, her arms full of every Barbie she owns, and she
proceeds to grab Jackson’s hand again and pulls him down to the floor with her.

“Veronica, do you know about strangers?” Jackson asks her as he crosses his legs in
front of him and picks up Malibu Barbie and starts making her walk around in circles
on the floor.

Veronica nods her head and picks up her Ken doll, copying the same moves Jackson is
currently using with his Barbie.

“Never talk to stwangers,” she replies.

“Right, never talk to strangers.  Never go anywhere with anyone who isn’t your mommy
or daddy either.  We’re going to sit right here and play Barbies while mommy rests. 
You aren’t allowed to leave the house at all, okay?  If me, or someone else tries
to get you to leave, you scream at the very top of your lungs.  Can you do that?”
Jackson asks her.

Veronica proves she can by letting out a blood curdling scream, and we both wince
at the sound.

“Very good!” Jackson tells her.  He looks up at me and smiles and it takes everything
in me not to hug him and cry because he's being so thoughtful.  He had known exactly
what I was worrying about and had made sure to calm my fears.

“Um, I’m just going to
sit here
.  Don’t let me fall asleep,” I tell him as I sit down on the couch, curl my legs
up next to me, and rest my elbow on the arm and watch them play.

“You’re fine.  We’ll be right here getting Barbie and Ken ready for their wedding,”
Jackson says with a smile as Veronica hands him Barbie’s wedding dress.

I sit there watching them for a few minutes in complete awe.  This guy who has known
me for all of five minutes took one look at me and knew what I needed.  How in the
hell has my husband, who has known me for years,
not
been able to do that?

~

I'm having the best dream ever.  I'm alone on a deserted island, and I'm sleeping. 
Just sleeping.  No crying kids, no husband begging for sex…nothing but the sound of
ocean waves and hours of uninterrupted sleep.  I stretch my arms over my head, feeling
around for the warm sand and instead, and grab onto the arm of the couch.

I sit up quickly and blink a few times, looking around in fear and wondering why I
am asleep on my couch and I can’t hear Veronica or Billy.  The living room has grown
dark and there is a lamp on in the corner of the room so I know I must have been out
for a few hours at least.

I jump up in a panic and am preparing to scream at the top of my lungs that my children
are missing when I hear Veronica’s giggle from the kitchen.  I run around the couch
and across the room, stopping short when I get to the kitchen doorway.

“Hey there, sleepyhead!  We decided to move our Barbie party into the kitchen so we
didn’t disturb you,” Jackson says with a smile as he looks up from the kitchen table
that’s now full of all of the Barbie crap that used to be on the living room floor.

“Mommy!  Jackson let me take Barbie swimming!” Veronica shouts excitedly while she
points to the sink that’s full of water.

“Hope you don’t mind.  She wanted to fill up the bathtub but I thought the sink was
a better idea.  Oh and your son is still sleeping.  I checked on him a few minutes
ago.”

Where did this guy come from?  Am I still dreaming?  He can’t possibly be real.

“How long have I been out?” I ask, coming over to the table and kissing Veronica on
the top of the head.

“About three hours,” Jackson replies, standing up from the table and sticking his
hand out towards Veronica.  “My lady, it’s been a pleasure playing Barbies with you
this evening.”

Veronica giggles and shakes Jackson’s hand.

I walk Jackson to the door and stand there holding it open while he turns and pauses
on the front porch, sticking his hands in the pocket of his jeans.

“I don’t even know how to thank you.  I think I’m the one that was supposed to welcome
you to the neighborhood by baking you cookies or something.  You weren’t supposed
to babysit my kids while I snored on the couch,” I tell him apologetically.

“Really, it’s okay.  I didn’t mind.  I watch my niece a few times a week so it was
a piece of cake.  Besides, it was
too exhausting trying to do yard work in puddles of melted snow
so it gave me an excuse to be lazy for once.”

He smiles at me again, and I have to force myself to swallow a few times so I don’t
start to cry.

“See ya later, Jenny!  If you ever need more sleep, you know where to find me.  And
I love cookies, so feel free to thank me with those sometime,” he says with a laugh
as he jumps off of the porch and whistles his way across the street to his house.