Bad Mommy

by Tarryn Fisher

  That’s really nice. I sent back. Songs any good?

  Yeah, I guess.

  I felt her slipping away with that one. If I wanted her to keep talking to me I was going to have to tell her what she wanted to hear.

  He’s totally into you and he doesn’t even care that you’re married. Kind of hot.

  Her text pinged back a moment later. That’s what scares me. He didn’t ask about Darius at all, and when I tried to bring him up he’d change the subject. He just wanted to talk about me and my writing.

  I rolled onto my stomach and chewed on my lip. Does Darius ask about your writing?

  No

  He cares about you. Nothing wrong with that.

  She stopped texting me after that, and when I looked out the back window I saw her playing in the garden with Mercy. I’d given her something to think about, though.

  I decided to reach out to Darius and see how he was doing. I sent him a meme from one of his favorite movies, which also happened to be one of my favorite movies. Jolene had rolled her eyes when we’d made these confessions at the dinner table, citing that her favorite movie was The House of Sand and Fog. I’d wanted to tell her to take a chill pill, lighten up, but then Darius beat me to it, calling The House of Sand and Fog morbidly depressing.

  Clueless? Jolene had shot back. That’s both of yours favorite movie? What type of morons do I associate with? There was humor in her voice, but we all knew she was a little serious too. It was funny how quickly you could get to know someone’s personality if you were really trying.

  Darius and I had exchanged a look while she ranted about pop culture and how it was destroying people’s taste in quality. It’s oookay to like it, she said, but that shouldn’t be all you like.

  He texted back right away with a LOL.

  And then:

  Would you call me selfish?

  No, not to your face.

  I knew right there that he was talking about Jolene, and I silently agreed. She wanted everyone to rise to her standards, and take themselves seriously. It was exhausting, and we were both victims of her overbearing judgment. I was delighted when he texted back and asked if I’d seen Magnolia, another one of his favorite movies. When I told him no, he insisted that I borrow his copy, and told me to come pick it up tonight. My heart was pounding by the time I set my phone aside and climbed out of bed.

  The good news was—I no longer felt depressed. The bad news—I’d put on at least three pounds in the last few days, and I wanted them off. As I pulled on my workout clothes, I remembered the first time I came to the Averys’, how I’d pretended to jog down the sidewalk and been winded. Those days were long behind me. I examined my svelte figure in the mirror. Who knew I was so tiny under all of that flesh I’d been collecting? I was far skinnier than Jolene, who with large breasts and a round rear erred on the curvy side. Maybe that’s what Darius liked, but no, I thought, Darius was a worldly man. He had broad taste in all things, not conforming to one style or type.

  I ran four miles, my limbs burning with gratitude for the exercise. I texted Jolene, asking if Ryan had sent her anything worth swooning over. There was a deep part of me that felt as if it was my duty to push Jolene toward Ryan. I had a feeling about the two of them, the same sort of feeling I had about Darius and me. I’d once had that feeling about George, but he’d blown it, hadn’t he? He’d taken me for granted and we’d drifted apart. Women needed to be nurtured.

  Just a couple things. I mostly ignored him, she said.

  She obviously didn’t know the effect she had on all of them. Grown men following her around like lost puppies. It was pathetic really. I went home and popped Magnolia into the DVD player.

  I hated Magnolia, but I didn’t tell Darius that.

  “It was good,” I told him. “Different.” He looked mildly disappointed in my lackluster response, so I added a sentence. “I really liked the theme: coincidence.” And I sort of had, hadn’t I? I’d spent two hours reading reviews online trying to make sense of what I just watched, and what message Darius was trying to relay to me. I read a dozen reviews before it clicked that I was part of a strange coincidence, and whether he realized it or not, he was affirming my move next door, as well as my interaction with them. I was endeared to the message in Magnolia even if I thought the execution was poppycock. And besides, I liked the way his mind worked—the things he watched and the way he saw the world. He was deep without being pretentious. When he spoke to me, he wasn’t speaking at me like George, he was speaking to me. Before I even left their house, he’d handed me another DVD, this one called Doubt. I breathed in the smell of his cologne, the place between my legs beginning to tingle.

  “It’ll get you right up here,” he said, tapping his temple. I decide that Darius had an unhealthy obsession with Philip Seymour Hoffman. When Darius retreated into the bedroom to shower, I decided to proposition Jolene, something I’d been meaning to do for a while.

  “You should go out tonight,” I told her. “Dinner, drinks, whatever. I’ll watch Mercy.”

  I wouldn’t exactly call Jolene overprotective. I’d once seen her leave a knife on the counter right where Mercy could reach it, but she wouldn’t leave Mercy with anyone but her mother. It was frustrating. Mercy was comfortable with me. She liked me.

  “You two need some time together, even if it’s only for an hour or two. She’ll be fine, Jolene.”

  She didn’t look convinced, so I went in for the kill.

  “Darius seems upset lately … maybe a little distracted. It’ll be good for both of you.”

  That got her. Her face suddenly looked guilty, and she started chewing on her lip. I eyed her limp hair and dark circles, and for the first time realized she might be tired. My focus was mostly on Darius and Mercy. Sometimes I forgot to check if Jolene was all right.

  “Maybe just for an hour,” she said. I kept my face still even though this was a victory.

  “I’ll come over at seven,” I told her. “That means you have two hours to get used to the idea and get drunk enough to actually leave.”

  She laughed, but I knew it wasn’t far-fetched for Jolene to drink a couple glasses of wine at this time of night. Nasty red stuff that tasted like rot. She said it was to unwind, but she wrote books for a living—what did she need to unwind from?

  “Okay, but make it eight so she’s already in bed,” Jolene said quickly. And then she added, “I don’t want her to think we abandoned her.”

  It took all of my willpower not to roll my eyes, but I smiled and nodded, heading for the front door. Good God. How fucking dramatic. It’s not like she’d be leaving Mercy with a complete stranger.

  “See ya,” I said, and then, “in two hours.”

  It only took Jolene thirty-seven minutes to cancel. I was furious, pacing my small living room, my eyes burning in their sockets. Her text had been friendly, and she’d used Darius as an excuse, saying he’d had a long day and didn’t feel up to it, but I knew the truth. She didn’t trust me. I took a few shots from an old bottle of rum I had in the back of the pantry and grabbed my hoodie from the coat rack. I felt reckless … alive! I’d sacrificed so much for them. They had no idea how lucky they were. I cared. How many other people could say they had someone like me in their lives? Who cared as much as I did?

  I drove east on 5, passing the trendier, hipster neighborhoods and exited near one of the dingier parts of Shoreline. It was the type of place where you kept your car doors locked at all times and always made sure you had pepper spray on hand. I found a grimy liquor store with bars on the windows and a cracked asphalt parking lot. I probably could have found a closer, safer place to buy liquor, but I liked the drama of the situation. Would I be mugged? Maybe. And besides, I just needed to get away from those people. People who thought they were happy when they couldn’t see the full scope of the situation—too blinded by their misguided perceptions of right and wrong. Ryan was moving in on Jolene right under Darius’s nose, and Darius was spending more and more time away from home
because he was deeply unhappy. Poor little Mercy just needed her parents, but they were both distracted. Well, here I was and I wasn’t going to let Jolene ruin her. Thank God I was part of her life, that I could pour my love into her. I often pictured her as a teenager, angry with her parents (rightfully so) and thanking me for my active and loving part in her life.

  I was standing in front of the various bottles of white and dark rum when Darius texted me.

  Thanks for the offer. Maybe another time?

  Was it you or Jolene that didn’t want to go out? I texted back.

  Errr … me?

  That’s what I thought, I shot back.

  I was so annoyed I stuck my phone in my back pocket without waiting to see if he’d answer me, then I grabbed a bottle of Captain Morgan Private Selection and a six-pack of Coke, and marched to the register. The clerk asked me if that was all, and I told him to throw in a pack of Capri Slims. The ones in the pink box like Jolene bought. I grabbed a pack of matches from the little ashtray next to the register and told him to keep the change. I’d never told anyone to keep the change before, but they said that in the movies. I didn’t bother waiting till I got home to sample my purchases. I opened a can of Coke as soon as I climbed in the car and chugged a quarter of it down. Unscrewing the cap from the Captain, I replaced the Coke with rum and swirled it around to mix it. I took a sip. Vile. Straight rum. I was too upset to be choosy. I smoked one of the Capris as I sipped on my drink, watching the cars drive by. I was about to pull out of my parking spot when I saw that I had a missed call from Jolene. That shocked me. Maybe she changed her mind and wanted to go out after all. I check my voicemails, but she didn’t leave one. I decided to call her back.

  “Hey, hey,” she said.

  I kept my voice neutral and responded with a curt, “Hello.”

  “I saw you leave, just wanted to make sure you’re okay?”

  She saw me leave? Had she been watching me through the window?

  “You kind of sped out of the neighborhood like you were involved in a car chase,” she said, softly. “Just wanted to make sure…”

  “I’m not near any train tracks,” I shot back. “If that’s what you’re hinting at.”

  “No, no, no,” she said, quickly. “That’s not what I meant.” Though we both knew that’s exactly what she meant.

  “Darius and I were thinking we could do a double date with you guys next week.” Her voice dropped off as she waited for me to react. I rolled my eyes.

  “Sure, sounds great. What day are you thinking?”

  She told me Thursday night because that’s when her mom could watch Mercy, and we made plans to meet at their place at seven.

  “Seven?” I asked. “Are you sure you don’t want to do eight?”

  “Nah,” she said. “Mom wants to spend some time with Mercy.”

  I took a giant sip of my Captain and Coke and we ended our call with the polite, sweet voices of women who could barely stand each other.

  My stomach dropped when I walked down the sidewalk on Thursday night and saw Amanda’s car parked in the Averys’ drive. I was coming alone. I needed a little break from … my other life. Jolene’s friends had a natural suspicion anytime someone new was introduced into the group. They gave you the hard eye, evaluating exactly what it was she saw in you. I consoled myself with the fact that it was Amanda, it could be worse. I wished I hadn’t taken so long to choose the purple sheath dress I was wearing. It always gave you the advantage to be the person greeting people into a room rather than being the one greeted. Jolene had texted earlier and told me to come in without ringing the bell. When I opened the door, I was greeted by the sound of laughter. I felt jealous that they’d started without me, but I wiped my face clean of emotion and stepped inside.

  “Fig!” someone called out. “We’re in the kitchen.”

  Jolene peeked her head around the doorway, a brilliant smile on her face. I edged my way around the living room, bracing myself for the onslaught of eyes. What I saw when I turned the corner was Jolene crouching in front of the dishwasher wearing my dress. At the very least it wasn’t purple, she was wearing the black option I’d debated over for hours. Purple or black? Purple or black? In the end I’d settled on the purple because it was less funeral and more summer. Now, seeing Jolene in the black, I was doubting my decision. The dress made you notice her more, but it came secondary to what you knew was underneath the fabric. I smiled weakly, expecting everyone to comment right away on our fashion mishap, but no one seemed to notice as they said hello.

  I’m wearing the same dress as her, I wanted to scream. Are you people blind?

  Jolene asked what I wanted to drink.

  “Whatever you’re having,” I said. She left to pour me a gin and tonic, and Amanda came over to say hi.

  “You look so great,” she exclaimed.

  Normally, I’d be weary of a compliment from another woman, who often only gave compliments to either point out a flaw: You look great, not at all fat like you used to be. Or: You look great, have you lost weight? I lost weight too, can you tell? But she left it at that, moving the topic to warm weather and then my work. And I did look great. She handed my drink and the ice rattled against the glass. I cast a sideways glance at Jolene, who was standing next to Darius. His arm was wrapped casually around her waist, and it looked like his thumb was playing with the line of her panties through her dress. I wasn’t wearing any panties; he’d be more fulfilled doing that to me. She wasn’t near as skinny as I was.

  Like the universe was out to sting me, Amanda said, “I love your dress, Jolene, you look like a sex kitten.”

  Darius smiled over his shoulder at her and said, “I know, right. I can’t keep my hands off.”

  “Luckily you don’t have to,” she shot back. It wasn’t the first time I’d noticed the camaraderie between Amanda and Darius. I retreated into the corner of the kitchen feeling sulky. Amanda and Darius shared a similar dryness, I supposed. Their jokes always ended with deadpan stares and collective confusion around the room about whether they were serious or pulling your leg.

  Jolene announced that if we wanted to make our reservation we needed to head to the restaurant. Darius and Jolene drove their car, and after a brief exchange outside, Amanda and Hollis jumped into the back seat.

  “Come with us, Fig,” they called out. I didn’t want to be squashed in the middle. I was aggravated as I walked to my car, cursing under my breath. This all felt like a big setup.

  When we got to the restaurant, the hostess complimented Jolene on her dress. I rolled my eyes so hard.

  I was the last to the table and the farthest away from Jolene and Darius. I slid into my seat, trying not to make eye contact with anyone lest they see my annoyance. The conversation flitted from what everyone was going to order, to where you could get the best oysters for your buck. Oysters were an aphrodisiac, Darius told us. We’d all heard it before, but everyone pretended to be interested anyway. Pretty soon we were on the topic of sex. I shot glances at Darius while he spoke, wondering what he was like in bed. I’d heard Jolene’s labored moaning from their open bedroom window on more than one occasion. I hadn’t had sex in so long Nooni began to tingle.

  My mother named my privates, Nooni. She said she didn’t want me to be in the grocery store like her friend Lisa’s daughter, screaming out, My vagina is burning! in the checkout line. So, we called it Nooni, and that was that. I don’t really know where she came up with that name, except in sixth grade my friend Katie called her grandma Nooni, which made things really awkward for me. I called her grandma Vagina in my head. I never told Katie that. The name Nooni probably should have dropped off at some point, but it stuck all the way through college and into adulthood. And here I was at the dinner table thinking about Nooni as I stared down at my French onion soup, everyone laughing around me.

  When I looked up, Darius was watching me from the other side of the table. I felt warm all the way down to my toes.

  Jolene and I were chatting in
the kitchen when Darius got home from work. He had a brown drippy stain on his shirt, and he was wearing black-rimmed glasses, which I’d never seen him in before. He was unusually quiet, kissing her on the cheek and shooting a quick hello at me before grabbing a glass from the drying rack. Our conversation about Mercy’s sleepover with Jolene’s mom dwindled as we both zoned in on his tense back.

  “Did work suck?” she asked, walking over to where he was slicing a lime for his drink, and rubbing his back.

  This was my favorite part of the day—when Darius talked about his clients. He never told us their names, but there were always stories that either made us laugh, or had us groaning. Jolene said he was unburdening their burdens. He shrugged her off and moved to the trash can to toss the dried up part of the lime. Seemingly unaffected by his casual rejection, Jolene walked across the kitchen and sat at the table, propping her feet up on the chair next to her as Darius launched into a full account of his day. He finished his drink and poured another while we asked him questions about the lady who forced her ten-year-old son to wear pink even though he was made fun of at school.

  “I got a text from Rachel today,” he said, finally, pulling a bottle of gin from the cabinet. Rachel, that was a name I’d never heard. I glanced at Jolene, who was picking at her nails. Her face was neutral, giving me no indication of who this Rachel girl was.

  “Oh yeah, what did she say?”

  “She’s getting divorced. She sounded pretty bad. I guess he’s going for full custody of their son.”

  Jolene spun around, her face contorted. “Is she okay?”

  Darius shrugged. “She’s pretty depressed. She tried to commit suicide once a few years ago, so you never know with her. She asked if I’d be in town soon.”

  I was just wondering where “in town” was, when Jolene said, “She still lives in Miami?”