A Conflicted Woman

by T. B. Markinson

  “Marjorie, so good of you to come.” I hunched down to greet the boy. “Hello, there.”

  The boy buried his face in Marjorie’s legs.

  She laughed. “This is my baby brother, Max.”

  Sarah, the perfect hostess, noticed the new guests and left her mom’s side. “Hi, I’m Sarah.”

  Marjorie shook Sarah’s hand, but before Marjorie could speak, I jumped in. “This is Marjorie and her brother, Max.” I threaded an arm around Sarah’s waist. “And this is my beautiful wife, Sarah.”

  Maddie appeared out of nowhere. “I’m Maddie.”

  “Jorie.”

  “Jorie and Max,” Sarah said as if engraving the names into her memory bank. She proceeded to get to Max’s level to officially greet him, pulling me down to do the same when Max stepped away from his big sister. He had kind green eyes and a timid heart-melting smile.

  After ruffling his hair, I straightened. “I didn’t know you went by Jorie,” I said, wondering why she never corrected me in the past and why she chose to do so now. Another tick in the be wary column.

  Marjorie laughed, her eyes boomeranging around all the party madness. “It’s my way of rebelling. Everyone in my family has a name that starts with the letter M.”

  “I’d fit right in, then,” Maddie said with a smile that could only be described as lecherous.

  Jorie furtively gave Maddie, whom Gabe liked to call the blonde-bombshell, the once-over. If she was attempting to be discreet, she could use some pointers. Not from me, though. Clearly her attendance at the twins’ party was proof positive I also needed flash cards on how to act in certain situations.

  After a pregnant pause, although, I suspected she wasn’t doing so for effect, she said, “I do believe Maddie qualifies.”

  Maddie’s smile didn’t appease the unease swirling inside over how Sarah would react to Jorie. Besides, Maddie was involved with Gabe, who was my half… no stepbrother and my half brother’s older sibling. I hadn’t met either of them until last year when Dad revealed his secret relationship with Helen. I squinted one eye, ascertaining if I got that right. What was Gabe’s official title when it came to the twinks? Step-uncle? Did that make Allen a half uncle? A term I’d never heard or seen in print.

  Jorie said something that caused Maddie to laugh, knocking me out of my head.

  Ethan hadn’t offered his hand, remaining mute, but his eyes roved over Jorie in a way that made me want to punch him in the nose. His wife was fewer than ten feet away.

  “You’re one of Lizzie’s former students? Which class?” Sarah asked in a polite tone that I knew wasn’t actually polite. Not that Jorie would pick up on it. I hoped at least.

  Jorie smiled at me. “I was in Dr. Petrie’s Weimar history class.”

  “Lizzie, please.” My cheeks prickled, which usually happened whenever someone complimented me, although I feared Sarah would read it incorrectly. Maybe I could ask my former therapist for a note explaining how I’d mentioned never knowing how to handle positive attention after growing up with the Scotch-lady, who had dished out negativity like it was candy on Halloween.

  “She’s the best professor I’ve had. I almost switched majors.” Jorie’s adoring look spooked me.

  “From what?” Maddie asked.

  “International business.” Jorie reassuringly patted the top of her brother’s head as Casey and her crew zoomed past blowing bubbles and squealing.

  “That would be quite the switch.” Maddie gave me an appraising smile that made me stop breathing for a moment. If Maddie had picked up on the potential crush situation, no doubt Sarah had. I replayed the scene in my head when Sarah met Jasmine, a graduate student I briefly assisted before the twins birth at the behest of Dr. Marcel. My gorgeous and loving wife could become irrational when it came to me interacting with beautiful women. The time I made a pass at Maddie eons ago undoubtedly hadn’t helped matters.

  With her sparkling eyes on me, Jorie said, “Dr—Lizzie is that good.”

  Was she overtly flirting with me in front of my wife and friends at my twins’ birthday party? I’d only known one woman in my life with bravado like this, and I never wanted to see that woman—or a copycat-version—again.

  Or was I channeling Sarah and I should assume Jorie was innocent until proven guilty? What evidence should I look out for? Standing too close? Casual touches lasting a moment too long? Excessive compliments?

  A different handful of sugar-crazed kids raced by, chasing after an errant beach ball. Did none of the parents insist on them eating and drinking the healthy choices? I mentally flicked my hands in the air. Why did we even try?

  Max wormed back into his big sister’s legs.

  Sarah knelt down once again. “Max, would you like some lemonade, berry water, or juice?” She glanced up at Jorie to gauge if that was okay. After receiving a nod of approval, Sarah put her hand out for the boy, who took it. The two of them wandered to the drink and snack table.

  “Sarah, the shy-kid whisperer.” I smiled, perhaps too widely, at my wife, who observed our new guest over her shoulder with curiosity.

  Maddie rubbed her hands together. “Would you like something to drink, Jorie?” With that, Maddie steered the curvy brunette to the adult drink station.

  My father and his wife of less than a year, Helen, approached, each with one of the twins on their hips.

  “I think both need a change,” Helen said, smiling in her grandmotherly way.

  I reached for Freddie, but my father shook his head. “You have enough on your plate. Helen and I can manage.”

  They went inside.

  “Your dad changes diapers?” Ethan asked, reminding me of his presence.

  “Apparently.” I doubted he had ever changed mine, leaving it to the nanny he’d hired to save me from having the Scotch-lady attend to me in any way.

  Ethan, the fluid hater, pranced about as if he’d stepped into a cobweb, his lanky arms and legs adding to his ridiculousness. His fluid aversion was another reason why his relationship with his wife was on the brink of collapse.

  I rolled my eyes but turned my attention to the matter at hand. “On a scale of one to ten, how much trouble am I in?”

  Without prompting, Ethan glanced at Jorie. “Twenty.”

  “What should I do?” I whispered, keeping Sarah in my line of sight.

  “You should have asked that before inviting a former student who’s majorly crushing on you to your children’s birthday party.” He brushed one index finger over the other, looking very much like the teacher he was.

  “It just happened, and what proof do you have that she has a crush? I mean really, she could be super sweet to everyone and attend birthday parties every weekend.”

  “Sure. Happens to me all the time.” Ethan blew on his nails and then buffed them on his shirt. “Students and their crushes,” he said in a tone that implied he had no experience in the matter.

  “No, seriously. Sarah sent me to the toy store. Jorie works there—”

  “Now that’s what I call customer service!”

  I groaned. “Whatever I say, you’re not going to listen.”

  “I’m channeling Sarah to help you prepare.” He splayed his slender fingers on both hands and jostled them up and down in front of his face as if attempting to tap even further into Sarah’s mindset. “Shall we ask for Lisa’s help?”

  Before I could respond, Ethan called his wife over.

  “Who’s the brunette everyone’s eye-fucking? Me included?” Lisa asked, completely unprompted, tossing her red locks in an alluring way, purposefully trying to catch Jorie’s eye. I wasn’t sure if this was meant to rile Ethan. Like she was advertising she had options. Was Lisa bi?

  Not wanting to delve further into the Ethan and Lisa rollercoaster relationship, I focused on my own problem. “Fuck,” I muttered under my breath.

  Ethan grinned and then whispered behind his hand, filling Lisa in. At least they got along well enough to gossip. Maybe there was hope yet.

&nb
sp; She burst into laughter, quickly smothering it with her palm. “Your dad’s wife owns a flower shop, right?”

  Confused by the change of topic, I stuttered, “Y-yeah. She made all the flower arrangements. There’s a lion, tiger, dog, and butterfly.” I pointed to the carnation creations on the various tables spread out over the backyard. “She’d probably give you the family discount.”

  “The white dog is my favorite. The black button eyes and nose are adorable.” Ethan’s smile provided a glimpse of him twenty something years ago.

  Lisa ignored us. “Good news about the discount, and I highly recommend buying everything she has in stock, because you’re in the doghouse. And I’m not referring to the cute one the flower dog lives in.”

  “But—”

  Both cut me off by elevating their hands in the air.

  “I—”

  They repeated the don’t bother hand gesture and wandered off in the direction of their daughter, who was shrieking as she and her friends ran through a sprinkler on the far end of the yard.

  “Lizzie!”

  I wheeled about to greet Tiffany, who preferred being called Tie, Peter, and their baby girl, Dominique, affectionately called Demi. “Hey.”

  Peter rumpled his brow at my lackluster greeting. Tie took no notice and said, “Sorry we’re late. Blame your brother.”

  “Oh, I do. For everything,” I deadpanned.

  Peter actually laughed. “This place is a madhouse.” He surveyed the groups of people, young and old, the different craft sections Maddie and Sarah had set up, the bouncy castle, blow-up pool with colorful balls for the little ones to play in, and random toys, streamers, and popped balloons strewn over the rain-parched lawn. “Glad we didn’t have twins.”

  “Most of this is for the guests,” I pointed out, knowing Peter was quite similar to me in one regard: not having had a normal childhood.

  “Still, every day I say a silent prayer we didn’t end up like you.” His tone didn’t imply he was joking, but I picked up on a twinkle in his eye. It was a new thing we did, teasing each other.

  Gandhi, our neighbor’s Yorkie, strolled by wearing a silver bow tie. I smiled at George, Gandhi’s proud owner and a widower in the neighborhood Sarah had adopted.

  Tie drilled her elbow into Peter’s side. “What a terrible thing to say!”

  “Are Kit and Courtney coming?” I directed to Tie since Kit was her sibling and Peter liked him as much as I imagined he’d enjoy having a prostate exam.

  “Nope, my brother is off gallivanting in the south of France, and Courtney is… working, maybe. It’s hard to keep up with them.” She handed my niece to me and traipsed off in search of a glass of wine.

  Kit and Courtney had been engaged for some time now with no signs of actually planning a wedding. The reason: Kit was gay, but relished pretending he wasn’t as if playing a game. Courtney enjoyed stringing her well-to-do relatives along with the faux relationship out of revenge for forcing her into the family business.

  It was hard for me to keep up with my ever-expanding family and social connections. Recently, I’d started a family tree and spreadsheet.

  I turned my attention to Peter. “Just a stab in the dark but I’m guessing you’re late because you were golfing,” I said, nuzzling the top of Demi’s head with my chin.

  “With clients.” He put a finger out for Demi to hold. “Right, baby girl? Daddy was with clients?”

  I held my niece, bobbing her up and down. “Does anyone ever believe Daddy?”

  He started to speak but opted to shrug in defeat. He blinked. Not once but five times before uttering, “Who’s that?”

  I didn’t need to turn around. “Trouble.”

  “Yours or mine?” he asked with a mischievous twist of his lips.

  “If you could make it yours, I’d be eternally grateful.”

  Straightening, he said, “I’ll see what I can do.”

  I about-faced and muttered after him, “I wasn’t serious.”

  “About?” Sarah asked with a playful gotcha expression.

  Not speaking, I waved my free hand at Peter, who had corralled Jorie and Maddie against two Aspen trees.

  Sarah rolled her eyes and then kissed the top of Demi’s head. “It’s time for cake.”

  I handed Demi to Sarah. “On it, beautiful!”

  Inside the kitchen, I found Janice, a friend from my grad school days, and Bailey, Janice’s cousin and our new part-time nanny, which incidentally was one of the cheer up a stay-at-home mom solutions I’d stumbled upon yesterday. “Just who I was looking for,” I said.

  Peering out the window, Janice asked, “Who’s that talking to Peter and Maddie?”

  I rubbed my face. “No one.”

  Janice circled a finger in the air. “You did something wrong. You have the guilty hunch.”

  Bailey nodded in agreement.

  “It’s time for cake.” I pressed my hands together.

  “What’d you do?” Janice pushed.

  “Cake!”

  Janice looked at Bailey. “This is going to be entertaining.”

  “Cake!” I shouted as if I had a one-word vocabulary.

  “Who was the evilest Nazi leader? Hitler? Goring? Goebbles? Himmler?” Janice beamed, odd given the context, but not so much if you really knew her obsession with teasing me. Not to mention both of us had studied early twentieth-century German history.

  I stood my ground, shouting, “Cake!” once again.

  Sarah came inside, her face flush from the heat. “What’s going on?”

  “Watch this.” Janice looked to the ceiling for inspiration. “The worst dictator? Hitler, Stalin, or Mao?”

  “Cake!”

  Bailey shook her head, nearly dislodging her tortoiseshell glasses. Pushing them back in place with her finger, she said, “I think the heat has caused Lizzie to lose her marbles.”

  With a hand on her hip, Sarah said, “She’s panicking because she somehow invited a former student, who obviously wants to get into her pants, to the party.”

  Janice and Bailey twirled around as if on the fastest merry-go-round. “Her?” they asked in unison.

  “Her name’s Marjorie. Goes by Jorie.” Sarah removed the individual cupcakes from the bakery box, setting them on a platter, careful to mix them up so not all the hippo, tiger, giraffe, zebra, elephant, and monkey cupcakes were segregated. At least Jorie’s presence distracted Sarah’s mind from her usual, and frankly ludicrous, comments about her nonexistent extra pounds when around sweets.

  Janice removed one of the twin’s mini-cakes from a box, and Bailey removed the other. Both had purple icing with monkeys on top and one stick with a large marshmallow on the end in lieu of candles.

  Through the window, I spied Rose, Sarah’s mom, and Helen situating Ollie and Freddie in their high chairs. Dad held Demi. The partygoers gathered around in anticipation.

  Sarah, with the silver tray in her hand, asked, “Have you recovered enough to lead everyone in ‘Happy Birthday’?”

  Playfully, I chirped, “Cake.”

  She winked at me in that way of hers that put me at ease. Really, I couldn’t be blamed for a hot chick digging me. Or did Sarah’s wink imply Jorie didn’t have a crush on me, the almost middle-aged mother of twins? Either way, I chalked it up to a win.

  I led the group outside, bursting into a rousing rendition of the song.

  Most of the guests had left when Sarah rallied the remaining family members to clean up the mess.

  Two employees, who had set up the blow-up castle, returned to take it away.

  I opted to join Gabe and Allen’s team.

  “Great party,” Gabe said. He was Helen’s eldest son who technically wasn’t a blood relation, but we’d grown close as of late.

  “Thanks. It was all Sarah’s and Maddie’s doing.”

  “Now, that’s sad to see.” Allen, my half brother whom I’d only met last year, watched the castle slowly deflate.

  Gabe slung an arm over his shoulders. “
It’s okay, Bro. You have plenty more bouncy castles in your future.”

  Allen shoved off Gabe’s arm. “Whatever. Someone had to chaperone Ollie and Freddie inside the castle.”

  “And I had to rescue them when they started screaming their heads off and you were preoccupied chatting up Bailey.” Gabe laughed.

  “Money well spent,” I grumbled, leaning over to pick balloon remnants off the ground and toss them into a black garbage bag.

  “Are you referring to the bouncy castle or the self-help books Sarah gave Allen to help him conquer his shyness and lack of organizational skills?” Gabe quickly stepped away from his red-faced brother. “Just kidding, Allen. I’m proud of you for hitting on Lizzie’s new nanny.”

  Allen turned his back on both of us, taking the higher road or possibly retreating inside his bookish brain.

  I admonished Gabe with a finger. “Not all of us can be sleazy business types.”

  Allen nodded but didn’t flip around or join in his defense.

  Gabe laughed, accepting the rake Sarah handed over before charging off in her party-military way. “Speaking of questionable business types, how are things with you and Peter?”

  “Okay, I guess.” I stood. “It’s weird still, but at least we’re speaking like normal people.”

  “As much as Petries are capable,” Gabe joked. “Are we still on for golf next month?”

  “Wouldn’t miss it.”

  Gabe raked a pile of discarded cups and plates. “Remind me not to have kids.”

  “You say that now, and then…” I smiled at the twinkies sound asleep in their plush elephant chairs, gifts from Helen and Dad. “If you ever settle down, you may not have a choice. Sarah basically ambushed me with the idea, and for that, I’m truly grateful. Besides, for someone who says he doesn’t want kids, you sure spend a lot of time with the twins.”