And part of me knows that I haven’t poured the last cup of coffee for Nico Todd.
Not even close.
3
Kat
I don’t even remember driving home because I’ve been reliving every second of my thirty second date and conversation with Nico, imagining how everything would have changed if I’d just let him kiss me. When I’m pulling up into the driveway it finally occurs to me that Nico said he’s going on tour soon. Which means he won’t be coming into the coffee shop for who knows how long. And that makes me a little sad. Which is ridiculous. But that’s the life of a musician and that is exactly why I can’t get involved with him.
I don’t want to be the girl at the end of the line and the end of the road.
I can’t be.
I’m the mom who lives with her mom and her son at the end of a quiet cul-de-sac in Toluca Lake.
It’s not like I never have sex. There are guys that I’ve known since high school or college that I’ll hook up with every now and then. But I don’t date them. They temporarily satisfy an itch and they remind me of who I was before I became a mom. To be honest, I don’t miss that person very much. I just miss her big dreams for the future. And her big balls.
I open the front door as quietly as possible, but I can hear the TV in the living room.
My mom starts talking while I’m still removing my Doc Martens in the front hall, as if we’re mid-conversation. “Oh for crying out loud, he’s totally fine!”
“Hey, Lou.”
Right before Tate was born, my mother decided she wanted to be called Louise, Lou, or Lulu instead of Grandma. She claimed it was because it would make her seem cool, but I think the idea of being a Grandma without her husband around to be called Grandpa was more than she could bear.
“I told you not to come home early—it’s just a little cold—he’s fine.”
“Then why did he have a fever?”
She’s wearing navy blue satin pajamas, sitting cross-legged in the center of the sofa with a glass of white wine in one hand. Queen of the living room. “It was only a hundred and it’s gone down. You used to get little fevers sometimes and it was always nothing. You shouldn’t have left work early.” She waves her hand in the air. “I’m not telling you what to do—but maybe you should be establishing boundaries. For yourself and for him.”
“You didn’t establish any boundaries for me.”
She huffs. “Oh yes I did, young lady. You just ignored them. At least you pretended to follow your dad’s rules. God knows, I’m hoping Tate grows up to be a troublemaker and gives you a taste of that medicine. He’s too good. Tsk. Little angel. Except when he was two. And four. And last summer. Angel.”
“Is he asleep?”
“Last time I checked, hon. You coulda just called from the coffee shop to ask.” She shakes her head and takes a sip of her chardonnay.
“What are you watching?”
“Oh, this funny guy travels to different cities and eats things. It’s just the best! Why can’t I get a job like that? Who wouldn’t want to watch me travel around and eat things?” She sighs, musically. “What a life that would be. Not forever,” she shrugs. “Just for a little while.”
I know what that means. Lou’s getting restless. She works part-time during the day as a physical therapist at a nursing home, and makes good money doing it, but she stays home with Tate five nights a week when I’m at The 101. I prefer to work on school nights while my son’s sleeping so I can be with him for breakfast and dinner, do school drop-offs and pickups. Mom stuff. I like it. My mother adores Tate and insists on having us live in her house until I can afford one of my own, but it doesn’t leave her with much of a social life. It doesn’t leave me with much of one either. But after so many years of working full-time, raising me and nursing my dad when he was sick, she deserves a lot more fun than she’s having. More fun than the Hitachi Magic Wand and Magnum PI DVDs I got her for Christmas can provide her with.
“Mom. If you’re bored, you should take a vacation. I can take time off from work for like a week. Go to Hawaii. Go to that spa in Sedona. Or Ojai.”
“Oh psssh. Vacation? Who would I even go with? My friends don’t go anywhere without their husbands. What am I gonna do—go by myself? I can’t go by myself.”
“Sign up for a group tour thing.”
“I’m not going on vacation with a bunch of old strangers. Why can’t we go somewhere together—the three of us?”
“Well, because Spring Break’s over. Was Disneyland not enough fun for you?”
“Aww pffft. If I’m gonna stand in line for that long there’d better be a Bon Jovi concert waiting for me.” She sighs again, so loudly they can probably hear it back at her hometown in Southern New Jersey. “It’s fine, hon, I’m fine.” She polishes off her chardonnay.
I check my watch. My dad’s watch. Whenever I look at it, I’m reminded of how important it is to spend as much time as possible with the people I love. “Okay, well I’m gonna check on him.”
“Bring me another bottle of chardonnay when you’re done! Oh wait—you’re not checking on him you’re getting into bed with him.” Another sigh. “Good night, hon. Have dirty dreams, at least. What a couple of party girls we turned out to be, huh? Time for me to hit the hay too, I guess.”
“’Night, Mom. Sweet dreams.”
She complained when I snuck out to go to parties in high school and she complains when I stay in to be with my kid. The only time she doesn’t complain about my life choices—when Tate’s around.
I take a pitcher of drinking water up to Tate’s room, without even washing up or changing. The last time I saw him, five hours ago, he was sniffling and coughing, complaining about his skin feeling prickly, and I didn’t want to leave.
Nico Todd took my mind off of him for a little while, but now that I’ve got the palm of my hand against this warm little forehead there is nowhere else I’d rather be than this very blue, impossibly cluttered, slightly humid bedroom. My mom may have gone a little overboard with the eucalyptus essential oil in the humidifier. The rims of my eyes are stinging.
Or maybe they’re stinging because having a thirty second date and almost getting kissed by Nico Todd is the most exciting thing that’s happened to me in—I don’t even know how long. And yet, snuggling up against this little boy is the only way I could ever picture my night ending. “I’m here,” I whisper into the crown of his head.
He surprises me by flipping around to face me, his arm wrapping around my neck. His eyes are still closed, and he doesn’t make a sound.
“How do you feel? You want some water?”
No movement. No sound.
“Good night, buddy.”
I press my lips against his forehead. His fever has gone down, my mom was right. He’s not coughing and he’s not sniffling. But I don’t regret coming home early. I never regret coming home to this guy.
And even though I haven’t made it a priority to find a man for Tate and me to share a home with, I know he’ll show up someday. It was never going to be Tate’s father, and we’re all fine with that. While my son never got to meet my dad, I’ve only ever imagined creating a family with someone like him.
There’s a reason it felt unreal when I was in the parking lot with Nico.
This is my reality.
But I can’t seem to control the song in my head, or the dormant part of me that started to wake up about a month ago when Nico walked into the coffee shop, and I definitely can’t control my dirty dreams.
KAT’S VIDEO DIARY – April
KAT: Hey! You’re up early!
TATE: Mom! Pick a card! Pick a card!
KAT: Okay, hold on hold on. Did you take his temperature?
LOUISE: Totally normal. Coffee’s ready. We’re out of bread. I’m making eggs. How many do you want?
TATE: Mom! Pick a card!
KAT: I’ll make it. Are you still coughing and sniffling?
TATE: No!
LOUISE: I’m already maki
ng it.
TATE: Look at the card but don’t show me!
KAT: Okay, I’m looking at it and not showing you! Three egg scramble, thanks Mom.
TATE: Mom, did you memberize the card?
KAT: Yes. I memorized it.
TATE: Are you sure?
KAT: Yes. Wow, you don’t even sound sick anymore.
LOUISE: Told you not to worry.
TATE: Show the card to the audience. Lou—look at the card!
LOUISE: I am looking at the card.
TATE: Okay now put it back on top of the deck. Make sure I don’t see it. Okay now think about what your card looks like and watch me deal. Are you thinking about him?
KAT: Yes.
TATE: Aha! So it was a him. Are you thinking about his dark hair?
KAT: Yes. And his ridiculously long eyelashes. Wait. The guy on the card doesn’t have colored hair.
TATE: Haha! Is this your card? It’s this one, right?! King of Clubs?
KAT: Yeah, how’d you do that?
LOUISE: Long eyelashes, huh?
KAT: That was so great, buddy, good for you.
TATE: I’m still working on it. Hey, but guess what--I had a really big poop this morning!
KAT: Wow!
TATE: Like as big as my arm! I think I pooped all the bad stuff out and that’s why I feel good now.
KAT: I love it when that happens.
LOUISE: Tell me about the eyelashes.
KAT: What? I haven’t had my coffee yet.
LOUISE: You want it dark, right? Like someone’s hair? Oh, you’re gonna turn off the camera now that we’re talking about you? God forbid we should ever get something juicy about --
4
Nico
“Yo. Superstar.”
“Whoa. How long has it been since you’ve had sex?”
I rest my guitar case on the floor inside the door and let Shane pull me in for a bro-hug.
“Is it that obvious?”
He shuts the front door and gives me the once-over. “You usually look like you just got done showering with a girl. Now you look like you just got out of a month-long cold shower.”
“Longer,” I fake-cough into my hand.
He laughs. Hard.
“I’m not kidding.”
“I know. I’m laughing because I’m getting laid more than you are now. And that’s hilarious.”
“Not when it’s my sister you’re banging.”
“Hey. That’s my wife you’re talking about. Come to the family room. What can I get you to drink? I’ll join you in a minute. I gotta make sure Summer brushed her teeth.”
“I’ll have a beer.” I lower my voice. “Is the nanny home?”
“No, it’s her day off.”
“Good. She scares me.”
“The kids are still scared of her too. It’s awesome.”
“Uncle Nico Uncle Nico Uncle Nico!” Summer yells out from the bathroom as I walk past it down the hall.
“How’s it going?”
“Hey! No flirting with Uncle Nico until you’ve brushed your teeth.” Shane disappears into the bathroom with her and shuts the door. I can hear her asking why I can’t go in and sing to her. I can’t believe she still won’t brush her teeth unless he sings showtunes and I can’t believe he’s still indulging her with that awful singing voice of his. Maybe she’s just acting out now that the grumpy nanny’s not around. I would.
I poke my head into the kitchen and find Willa on the phone with someone—sounds like a business call. She waves at me and blows a kiss while saying something about a lingering note and base chords. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think she was talking about music, but then I hear words like “steam distillation” and “herbaceous woody scent” and I know she’s discussing her new line of perfume.
I wonder what kind of perfume Kat wears.
I could still smell it on my jacket for a day or so after that hug.
Of course, it’s blended with about ninety other scents from as many other women over the years, but I bet my sister’s advanced nose could pick it out.
And now I’m laughing to myself at the image of my sister picking something out of her advanced nose. I will forever feel about ten years old when I’m around her. Can’t be helped.
I walk straight to the picture window in the family room and stare out at the sunset over the ocean. This view gets me every time. It always makes me a little sad and I never knew why. But now I do. On some level I was wishing there was someone special I wanted to look out at the sunset with, but I couldn’t think of anyone. Now, for whatever reason, I can only think of Kat.
I hear a sniffle and turn around.
The other twin, Lucky, is sitting on the sofa. I didn’t even realize he was there. “Hey.”
“Hi,” he says, giving me a little wave.
It’s been a while since I’ve seen him. I usually have lunch with either Shane or my sister, occasionally both, when the kids are in school. I feel bad that I didn’t bring them presents. Are you supposed to bring kids presents every time you see them? I should have Googled it this afternoon.
I still remember when Shane told me he was going to be a dad. He was so worried about whether or not he could handle it, but I immediately told him, “You were born for this.” Me, I’m not so sure. I like kids, don’t get me wrong. But I look at a baby and I’m like—call me in twenty years when we can have a real conversation about your favorite Led Zeppelin album.
But I love Shane’s kids. They’re cute. They’re pretty interesting. I just never know what to say to them. And I really don’t know what I’m supposed to do when I’m alone with them. Lucky’s just been staring at me for what feels like half an hour.
I join him on the sofa and give him a little nod. “S’up?”
Lucky shrugs. “Not much.”
“You’re seven now, right?”
“Yeah. How old are you?”
“Old. Thirty.”
He sighs and nods, agreeing. “Like my dad.”
“Yeah, but he seems older than me, right?”
“Yeah. I think he should get a jacket like yours.”
“This jacket? I think you’re right, but I’m not sure if he’s cool enough to pull it off. You might be, though. Wanna try it on?”
“Can I?”
“Sure.”
He stands and I remove my leather jacket, holding it up so Lucky can slide his little arms through the sleeves. The thing is swimming on him, but he’s making it work. “Lookin’ good, little man. Hang on, you need one more thing.” I slip my aviator sunglasses from the neckline of my T-shirt and attempt to place them on Mini Shane’s head. “That’s what I’m talking about. Don’t move, I’m gonna take a picture.”
He stands perfectly still while I capture this on my phone, and text the image to his parents. “This should definitely be your Tinder profile,” I joke.
“My what?”
“Never mind.” I show it to him. “What do you think? Pretty cool, right?”
He fumbles to get the glasses off his face so he can see the picture. I grab them and hold the phone up and dammit it feels really good when he smiles and nods. “Yeah, I like it. I wish I could wear this instead of my school uniform.”
Poor kid has to wear polo shirts and khaki pants to his private school every day. I’ll have to remember to get him a little leather jacket and aviators for his birthday. I need to step up my uncle game. I just wish I had more to talk about with seven-year-olds.
“How is school?”
“It’s okay.”
“Yeah? You like going to school?”
“It’s pretty good. I like learning things. Did you like school?”
“I only went to school until I was fifteen. I had a tutor when I was working on the TV show with your dad. So I was basically homeschooled until I graduated. But I liked the girls in my classes. You like any girls in your class?”
“Not really.”
“Just your sister?”
He rolls his eyes. “I g
uess I like her. Sometimes.”
“You talking about me?” Summer asks, flipping her hair as she makes her entrance. Her hair has gotten pretty long and she’s started doing that hair flip thing that girls do. When they’re around me, anyway. This one’s going to be so much trouble in about eight years. I feel bad for Shane. And for Lucky. Having a pretty, sassy sister is no picnic.
“Nobody’s talking about you!” Lucky frowns.
“You look dumb in that jacket.”
“You look dumb in everything.”
“You sound dumb when you say things that aren’t true.”
“You’re dumb and you sound dumb and you look dumb and everything you say is stupid.”
Shit. Twin fight.
“I want to try on the jacket!” Summer lunges at Lucky just as he bolts out of the room. Summer starts squealing, but before she can chase after him, I grab her and set her down on the sofa next to me.
“Why don’t you hang out with me for a bit, little lady.”
She flips her hair and I swear to God she bats her eyelashes as she wiggles on over closer to me. “Okay. Hi.”
Charmer Page 3
