by Cee, DW
“What a compliment coming from a woman married to the ultimate charmer.” Donovan turned his attention to me. “What did you get for your mom?”
Mom answered instead. “Laney wrote me a book of poems...or was it short stories?”
I cracked-up. “They’re called vignettes, Mom. Something between a poem and a short story.”
“Really? About what?”
“She captured significant moments of my life in these vignettes. It’s beautiful. You want to read them, Donovan?”
“I’d love to read them.” He was actually genuine in his answer.
“Everyone!” Dad got all of our attention. “Let the games begin!”
That was our signal to move to the first house on the block. At this first house, we saw what the Reid men had been working on all week. My father and his brothers had built a “throne” for their mother in honor of this special day.
“Is that what I think it is?” Donovan whispered in my ear.
I nodded yes. “I think they copied Joffrey Baratheon’s chair.”
“Who?”
“Joffrey Baratheon?” He shook his head no. “House Lannister?” Still, the head shook no. “Game of Thrones?”
“Is that a board game?”
“It started as a series of novels and now it’s an HBO show. You’ve never watched it?”
“No. Is it good?”
“It’s fantastic! There’s only a few more shows left of Season 3; you should quickly catch up.”
“When school’s over for you, and I get a break from this case, you’re going to sit and watch all three seasons with me,” he stated as a fact.
“Why do you need me to watch it with you?”
“I’ll need someone to explain the storyline to me.”
“You’ll get it as the story progresses. It isn’t rocket science.”
“Can you for once just agree to one of my ideas rather than fighting me every step of the way? You sure you don’t want to go to law school, instead? You are one litigious girl.”
I ignored him and watched Gram sit on her literal and figurative throne and unroll the toilet paper roll. We all roared when the tune of God Save the Queen blared. My father, his brothers, and grandfather had done a clever job of turning a regular toilet into a throne fit for a queen. Next, we moved on to Aunt Sandy’s backyard. What we saw didn’t disappoint the high expectations we all had.
Jake, Jane and Nick got Aunt Sandy a clock-shaped coffin. Being a clock lover, Aunt Sandy collected clocks from all over the world. Now, she not only had a coffin ready for her burial, she also had a clock to take with her when she left. Her gift read, Counting down your mortality, Sandra Jane Reid, but the eerie part about this coffin was that like a real clock, it had a working hour, minute, and second hand.
“Freaky!” Donovan whispered again, for my ears only.
“Uh-huh!” I whispered back. “And with no litigious undertone...you see, I agree with you from time to time.”
“Smart ass!” He “kicked” me in the ass again like the other night.
The next house was Jake’s, and he uncovered a panoramic-sized frame that held an incredibly sweet caricature of the twins. The artist had accentuated all the darling features of both kids. Ellie’s big blue eyes were even bigger and more sparkling than her normal self. James’ beautifully rounded forehead was the focal point of his drawing and the picture depicted him as the Road Runner, wreaking havoc every which way.
The second frame, which hung in Jake’s office, was a montage of his stunning wife, chronicling their every moment of love—from their short dating period, up to their special day commemorating the twins’ birthdays. Though there were pictures of the kids, Jake and Emily, and the family, Jake chose to highlight mostly his wife. There were pictures of her smiling while eating sushi in Japan, laughing while throwing the bouquet at their wedding, crying with joy with the birth of the twins, and even crying with sadness at her parents’ gravesite. Somehow, Jake had captured the essence of his wife, and the thought that went into this gift was infinitely more beautiful than even his breathtaking wife.
I felt that sad yearning again.
The last frame hung in Emily’s sitting room and it was one of the Reid and Logan families. Instead of names, Jake had all of our pictures on the tree. I glanced over at Emily and Jake with a baby in each arm; the four of them fit into each other’s embrace, so perfectly, so wholly.
“What’s with the sigh,” was Donovan’s whisper this time. “Shouldn’t you be tearing up with the rest of the women?”
I shook my head no. “They’re perfect, aren’t they?”
Donovan looked over at the joyous family. “They are,” he answered with something that resembled a sigh, himself. “And I’m going to kick my best friend’s ass if he keeps showing us all up like that.”
“The bar is set pretty high. I don’t know where I’ll find any man even half as loving as my cousin.”
“Oh, brother...” Donovan rolled his eyes and pushed me ahead of him.
When we got to our house, Doug called everyone’s attention. “We have a little poem for our dear mother before we present her gift to her. The poem, recited to the tune of Hermy the Worm, is entitled, Laying in My Bathtub, Drinking MyVino.”
“Laying in my bathtub, drinking my vino,” I started the reading.
“Gulp, gulp, gulp, gulp,” Doug made the sound effects.
“Reading from my Kindle,”
“Yawn, Yawn,” Everyone who knew my mother laughed because they knew she wasn’t a reader.
“Along came Henry the Chief,”
“And he was shivvverrring ,” Doug exaggerated how cold he was.
“I said, ‘Henry, what happened?’”
“I lost all my clothes!” Doug spread open the clear vinyl shower curtain on Mom’s clawfoot bathtub so they could get a look at Dad in his birthday suit, with only a handkerchief strategically placed on his front side.
Once the laughter died down, Doug began again, except now we reversed roles.
“Laying in my bathtub, drinking my vino,”
“Laney, bring up another bottle of pinot!” I yelled like Mom would have had she been upstairs, while I was downstairs.
“Looking through my design magazines,”
“Fabulous! Fabulous! I have to try this at my next party!” I had practiced Mom’s intonation for this line, and I think I hit it when Mom died laughing at my impression of her.
“Along came Henry, the Chief,”
“And he was laughing! Hahahahaha!”
“I said, ‘Henry, what happened?’”
“I lost my underwear.” This time I did an impression of my father.
“...for the pièce de résistance...” Doug said right before flipping over the shower curtain and showing everyone my father’s backside—in the buff!
Everyone was bent over, howling with laughter. Mom declared she would never use her favorite bathtub again, Dad got a Sharpie and autographed the shower curtain, and Uncle David declared us the winner even before we finished seeing all the mothers’ gifts.
Doug and I had done it! We had made our mother laugh, father proud, and ourselves $2100 / 2 richer. Giving each other a high-five wasn’t enough, so we hugged one another, too.
“That was an ingenious idea, Little Girl.” Donovan didn’t whisper in my ear this time.
“Why, thank you, Mr. Taylor.” I answered with equal enthusiasm.
“Is someone calling me?” In front of me stood Donovan, thirty-five years older. This gentleman cut a handsome grandfather figure, with a little less hair, a little more belly, but a killer smile nonetheless.
“No, Dad.” Donovan lamented to his father about me calling him by his last name, rather than his given name.
Next thing I knew, a highly energetic and striking woman took over our conversation. This lady was none other than Jamie Lynn Taylor, Donovan’s mother. Of all my aunts and my mom’s friends, I al
ways thought Mrs. Taylor was the most beautiful lady. As I looked at her today, she reminded me of an older Kate Beauvais. Mrs. Taylor had a regal, old-world classy and elegant look...until she talked!
“He’s my stud, aren’t you, Scottie?” Jamie Lynn was describing her husband.
“Mom, please don’t start.” Donovan sounded like a cute teenage boy embarrassed by his mother.
“Don’t start what, Donny? I was just agreeing with this gorgeous young lady. Which Reid are you?”
I didn’t register that Jamie Lynn was talking to me. I assumed she was asking Jane since she called out a ‘gorgeous young lady.’ It was only when Donovan whispered, “Are you ignoring my mother or have you forgotten your name?” that I understood what was happening.
I quickly answered, “I’m Laney, daughter of Henry and Barbara.”
“My Gawwwwd!” Oh! My! God! was right. Once her New York, Italian accent started, I had to step back, lest she knock me down with one of her hand gestures while talking. Her decibel was along the same range as Ellie’s. “Last time I saw you, you were in pigtails.” Great. I’d never lose that pigtail-and-braces images. “When did you grow up to this?”
“Shit.” Donovan whispered. “Now you got her all excited. Soon she’ll go into one of her monologues.”
“Not my fault. The way I see it, it was you who got her excited.” I whispered back.
“What happened to working on not being litigious?”
“Made like a parking meter and expired.” I got another “kick” in the ass from the side of his Louis Vuitton loafers.
“What kind of man wears white suede Louis Vuitton loafers? It’s not Memorial Day yet. You can’t wear white, already.” We were still whispering while Jamie Lynn was reacquainting herself with all my cousins.
“First of all, it’s not white. It’s more of a taupe, so unless you’re color blind, you can see that I’m not committing any fashion faux pas. And secondly, I’m the same kind of man who knows that you’re wearing a pair of suede Louis Vuitton ankle boots. I think ours soles match perfectly today.” He laughed at his own not-so-punny joke.
While we were both laughing at our inside joke, Jamie Lynn pushed me aside and started telling Donovan about wanting grandbabies, and his father Scott had a word or two to say about Kate, and how she was too old to have babies. I stepped aside and tried to walk away until the real Mr. Taylor asked me, “Laney, you married?”
“No, Sir.”
“What do you think about my son? Isn’t he handsome?”
“I think there’s no one more handsome in this world, Mr. Taylor,” was NOT what I said. What came out of my mouth instead was, “I guess he’s all right.” I said this as a joke but Donovan, his mom and his dad all had a conniption, or better stated in Italian, an attaco di cuore.
“My son is gorgeous!” Jamie Lynn defended her son.
Um...you’re preaching to the choir...
“I was told I was even better looking than Henry Cavill.” Donovan jumped on his own bandwagon. “You know, the new Superman?”
I’d be faster than a speeding bullet, more powerful than a locomotive, and able to leap all kinds of tall buildings in a single bound, to become your Lois Lane.
Since I’d put my foot in my mouth already, I decided to poke fun at Donovan Taylor as much as I could. “Mr. Taylor, I think you look like a mousy Harry Styles.”
“A mousy Harry Styles? Who, me or my father?”
Donovan Taylor was UPSET. “This is solely about you!” I used his pun back at him.
“So if my son’s not good looking enough for you, then who is?” Scott Taylor, who had that same rascally smile, cornered me.
I returned Scott Taylor’s impish smile and answered, “Donovan Taylor is plenty good looking, but I prefer a bit more of a manly look.”
It was here that Mrs. Taylor fanned her face with both her hands so she wouldn’t faint, Jake choked on his own saliva because he was laughing so hard, and Donovan Taylor roared, “Explain, Delaney Reid!”
I shrugged my shoulder with a devil-may-care attitude and answered, “I like the weathered look.” I decided to describe to Donovan my ideal fictional man. Little did he know that he was my absolute ideal man—in the fiction and the non-fiction world. “You know...the Harley Davidson, beautiful tattoo, five o’clock shadow, mussed-up hair, look? You, Mr. Taylor, look a little too cleaned up. You’re the James Bond when he’s at the casino. I prefer the James Bond when he’s firing his Walther PPK, all cut up, with dirt on his face.”
With the sweetest look I’d seen on his face, Donovan almost whispered, “You truly are full of surprises. No Prince Charming from Cinderella?”
“Prince Charming from Cinderella with a few tats, riding a Harley,” I half-whispered back.
Mr. Scott Taylor gave me a different kind of smile this time—a tender, affectionate, and knowing-kind of smile. I, in turn, gave him a fond grin.
“This is the girl for you, Donny my boy! You need to marry this girl so she can help get rid of that metrosexual side of you...”
I briefly listened to what Scott Taylor was telling his son, but tuned him out to talk to Max. I didn’t need to get my hopes up any higher than they already were. It hurt too much every time I fell in notches.
“Babs!” I heard Jamie Lynn call out to Mom. “Whatcha gonna do with all the money your kids earned you?”
“Jamie!” I didn’t realize these two ladies were that close. “You look phenomenal. How’d you lose so much weight?”
“Pole dancing.”
Talk about Oh. My. Gawwwwd! I couldn’t believe what I’d just heard, and neither could Donovan. He started choking on his drink and spit up half of it on my dress. Jake and I sprung to action, and while I pounded on his back, Jake got ready to give him the Heimlich maneuver. Mrs. Taylor paused her conversation till Donovan was breathing normally, then continued.
“I got a pole in my bedroom and started getting private lessons. My Scottie loves it!”
“Maaa!” Donovan half-choked, half-begged. He still couldn’t talk properly. Mumbling something to his mother, he pushed me along, and we walked to the opposite side of the backyard.
“You all right?” I rubbed his back.
Even now, his cough hadn’t abated. “Damn! How do I get rid of this image of my 60+ year-old mother pole dancing? I’ll never enjoy another pole dancing girl, ever again.”
“Then I guess your mother’s plan of pulling you out of those skanky gentleman’s clubs, worked.”
“You think I visit those types of places?” His voice went up a few octaves.
“Where else would you see a girl pole dancing if not at one of those places?”
“Lots of girls have poles in their bed...”
This was the last thing I needed to hear from the man whom I believed was my ideal. Waving both hands and walking away, now it was me who couldn’t get rid of this image of Donovan Taylor with another woman.
“Wait,” he pulled me back to him. “Sorry. TMI,” he let out an apologetic laugh.
“It seems as though that magic hour between you and me has passed. I think we’d best be going our separate ways.”
“What the hell are you talking about? You talk in riddles all the time, Delaney Reid. Is this some form of generation gap between us?”
I waved both my hands, again and said good-bye for the day, lest he hurt me again.
May 11, 2013 Mother’s Day Continued
Grandfather surprised all the mothers in our family, and sent all seven of them on a day of rest and relaxation. Soon after the unveiling of our gag gifts and lunch, a stretch limo came to pick up all seven mothers. They were whisked off to a secret get-away where they’d be wined, dined, and pampered. Only Jake had a difficult time letting his wife go. But once the good-byes were done, all the men and cousins disbanded quietly and quickly.
“I can stay and help you with the kids, Jake.”
“Roland pulled a fast one on al
l of us. I didn’t expect Emi to be gone tonight. Will you help? Can you help? Don’t you have a lot of work to do?”
“I can help. I’ll bring my laptop and work over here, and help you where I can.”
“Hey, Donovan.” Jake yelled over to the godfather of his children. “I’m going to need your help as well.”
“Are we having problems parting with your other half?” Donovan teased.
“Hey, let’s go up to your hut.”
“With your kids?”
“Yeah. We can take the minivan up. The kids will love the beach and it’ll kill the rest of the day.”
“Like I don’t know your scheming and desperate mind. You just want to be near your wife. You’re looking for any way to not sleep alone.”
Jake smiled a devious smile. “Have we been friends that long? Give me a few minutes and I’ll get the kids’ bags together. I trust you can entertain them till then?”
Donovan had that impish look again. “I don’t think I agreed to go anywhere.”
“Don’t be an asshole.” Jake grumbled and went upstairs to pack.
“You want to go play in the water with Uncle Donovan?” he asked both kids. Ellie jumped into his arms and James followed his sister. “I guess it’s a done deal. Go get a bathing suit on, Godmother Delaney.”
“I don’t know if I have time to go frolicking on the beach. I really have a lot of work to do.”
“Oh, and I don’t have a lot of work to do? You heard your cousin. Once he gets his mind on something, especially where his wife is concerned, you know you can’t change his mind.”
That was true. Shit. When would I do all the backlogged work? Left without a choice, I put on a bathing suit and packed a bag with a change of clothes.
The kids both slept on the way up to Donovan’s beach house, Jake and Donovan chatted up in the front, and I got some work done in the third row. Once at the beach, there was no work that was going to get done. Both kids loved the water and the sand. They quickly learned not to put any sand in their mouths, and they found the texture of sand—wet or dry—fascinating. It took all three of us to do what Emily did by herself on a daily basis.
