Field of Schemes

by Coburn, Jennifer

  Dave and I had one more date and four more cancellations after I went to Kathy’s place that day. I felt about him the way I did about Darcy: immediate intimacy, but no desire to have a romantic relationship. He sat across the table telling me about the hoops he was currently jumping through to adopt a St. Bernard from the full-breed rescue mission, and how he was ready to just settle for a mutt from the pound. “I had to provide six references and answer a questionnaire about what type of environment I intend to provide for the dog,” he said. “I mean, I’m all for them making sure that dogs go to good homes, but I don’t know what my ‘discipline style’ will be, or who will take care of the dog if I die. Would you believe they asked where the dog will sleep? How do I know where he’ll sleep? Let him move in, sniff around a bit and figure it out. Am I supposed to have a bedroom set up for him?”

  I laughed. “I think they just want to be sure you’re not going to beat him or make him sleep outside on a slab of cement.”

  “No, Claire, they also asked who I planned to use as a vet and if they incorporated canine massage as part of their routine care.”

  “Dog massage?!”

  “You heard right.”

  “Man, I want to be a St. Bernard,” I said.

  “You are.”

  I blushed. I know it sounds utterly ridiculous to be charmed by a man calling me a dog, but it was endearing. I sighed internally at how wrong Dave was about me, though. He deserved the St. Bernard he thought I was, but he was really getting an old flea bag that probably was not going to learn any new tricks.

  I think he may have realized this after I canceled our last date. On Friday night, Rachel complained that she felt sick, so I emailed Dave to apologize for rescheduling again and explained why. He shot back a note right away saying that he was trying to be patient, but had to wonder whether or not I was really interested in him. The tone was light, with a subject line reading “She’s just not that into you?” But clearly he had doubts about my intentions. This made two of us.

  Rachel woke up late Saturday morning and said she felt fine. As I was picking up the phone to see if Dave was still available that night, I stepped outside because I thought I heard a noise in my backyard. The sound was actually coming from Darcy’s yard. The clanking was a watering can that was accidentally kicked by Ron as he paced the far side of his yard, which also happened to be the fence that separated our properties. “No, I’m not saying that,” he whispered into his cell phone. “Of course I do, don’t be so dramatic.” There was a long pause. “I don’t know, maybe later.” Pause. Then his voice softened. “Okay, I’m sorry. I know. I know. Okay, okay. I have to go in to the hospital this evening so we can .... Oh, I don’t know. What? No, it’s not that ... All right, I already said yes, let’s leave it at that.”

  As he walked back in the house, I remained hidden behind my neighbor’s fence, unable to move. Darcy was right. Ron was carrying on with someone at the hospital. I started trying to imagine whether he was having an affair with another surgeon, a nurse, or maybe a billing clerk. I don’t know why any of this mattered, but I wanted to have a clear picture of who he was cozying up to in the linen closet of Santa Bella General Hospital.

  If Darcy didn’t have it in her to investigate her husband’s activities, then I would do it for her. If she needed evidence, I was hot on the trail to getting it. I knew he was meeting someone tonight at the hospital, and I would be there with my digital camera to document it for her. Then when we found out what a louse Ron really was, we could both evict him from our hearts once and for all.

  That was the plan anyway.

  As I sat crouched in the driver’s seat of my minivan, I watched Ron get out of his car and walk in the door at a fast clip. Now what? I wondered. I hadn’t thought this through very well. Do I go in and follow him around the hospital corridors, ducking into doorways every now and then? Do I suit up in scrubs and a mask and try to sneak into the operating room? I imagined that his lover would simply strut out into the parking lot in her naughty nurse costume and the two of them would lose themselves in an illicit embrace. I got out of the car and started walking toward the door, afraid he’d escape from my sight. I saw another doctor approach him, hand him a chart and lead him out of the lobby. Was that it? Was his earlier phone conversation an innocent chat with another doctor who wanted him to cover the night shift after he finished his evening surgery? Who scheduled surgery for the evening anyway?

  Before I could ponder that question, I heard a familiar male voice behind me. “Claire?” Dave said. I turned around to see that he and Katie were also standing in the waiting room. “Claire, what are you doing here? Is Rachel okay? Did she get worse?”

  “Oh, um, hi guys,” I stammered. “No, she’s fine, I’m just ... What are you doing here?”

  “Jess spilled boiling water on her hand, so I gave her a ride over here. I was dropping off Katie and Sam’s not home, I gave her a ride. Jess is in getting patched up right now. What about you? What’s with the camera?”

  “The camera?”

  “Yeah,” Katie added, pointing. “Hanging from your neck.”

  “Oh, this?” I said, hoping a little laughter would dismiss the question.

  It didn’t.

  When was I going to learn to use the camera on my cell phone?!

  “Yeah, the camera.” His expression was clear: You canceled a date with me so you could hang around a hospital emergency room taking pictures?

  “This?” I said, waving my hand. “It’s just, I just, I volunteer here sometimes. You know, a lot of people think they’re not going to want pictures of their hospital stay, but it turns out they really regret not bringing a camera along. I mean, it’s a part of their lives, right? Why not put it in your scrapbook alongside vacations and graduations and other big events?” Getting softer, I finished, “It’s an experimental program. We’re going to see how it goes.”

  “You take pictures of people while they’re in the hospital?” Katie asked as if she’d just met a mother even weirder than her own.

  “Um, yeah, it really brightens some people’s days,” I said, hoping to hell that Dave was buying this.

  “You told me Rachel was sick,” he reminded me.

  “She was,” I replied. “She absolutely was. But now she’s better, and then the hospital called and said that they really needed me to come in tonight, so how could I say no?”

  Mercifully, Jessica appeared. A nurse pushed her in a wheelchair as she smiled at her daughter and ex-husband, holding up her bandaged hand for them to see. “Hey, Claire,” she greeted me brightly. “What are you doing here?”

  “Hi Jessica,” I said sheepishly. “I’m, um, a volunteer here. Want a picture of that hand? Make the memory last?”

  Kathy was a new person by Rachel’s twelfth birthday party at our house weeks later. I was thrilled that the whole family could make our impromptu celebration. These things don’t always come together the day before a long holiday weekend. I was especially pleased to hear the familiar lilt in Kathy’s voice as she accepted the invitation. “Sure, sounds fun,” she said. Yes to fun means medication is working.

  Rachel and I were traveling to San Luis Obispo for the Fourth of July weekend for the Patriots Freedom Cup, but still wanted to have a family gathering to mark Rachel’s birthday. Darcy popped in for a few minutes and told Rachel and me what to expect this weekend while the rest listened with rapt attention. The league created a colonial theme park with cobblers and blacksmiths who gave demonstrations right there on the cobblestone roads in front of their Main Street shops. The street was lined with façade shops, a bank, a saloon, and a post office. Women with long skirts and bonnets sold homemade chocolate fudge, while others sheared wool from live sheep, then spun it into nubby wool thread. On the first evening of the tournament, after the games ended, the Patriots typically hosted a reenactment of the Revolutionary War, providing red coats and muskets for participants. Thankfully, they weeded out nut jobs like Drunk Dick and Loud Bobby by makin
g people go through a two-hour safety and history class. The Patriots took their tournaments even more seriously than Manchester did, which, ridiculously, filled me with a bit of American pride.

  Darcy continued to fill us in. “They kick off the tournament with a morning parade where historical characters march down the street waving flags and ringing the Liberty Bell.”

  “Oh, that reminds me,” my mother interrupted. “I brought the lira for my necklace. Put them close so they jingle when I get a little trot going.”

  “She has a fist full of lira!” Rachel said in a voice resembling the evil Natasha from Rocky and Bullwinkle. Despite the fact that Mimi was as American as apple pie, Rachel and I found it befitting to use this accent whenever we brought up the oft-mentioned “fist full of medals.”

  I added a maniacal laugh, “We will take this fist full of lira and rule the world!”

  Everyone looked at us as if we were out of our minds, but we laughed hysterically. As much as I resented Mimi, it was fun for Rachel and me to share a common enemy. And I had to admit, Rachel was reading more than ever in order to keep up with Mimi’s book group. Mimi’s rule was that you couldn’t attend if you hadn’t read the book, and both Rachel and Kelly agreed that Mimi’s snacks were too good to miss. “Seriously, I’d sell my sister for one of those Girl Power bars right now,” Kelly recently told me as she and Rachel described in delicious detail how much they loved snack time at Mimi’s.

  “Happy birthday, Rachel,” Darcy said after leaning in to kiss me goodbye. “Nice to meet you all.” With that final word, my heart dropped. This was not “all.” Aside from Steve, someone from my family was most definitely missing from Rachel’s party: her grandmother, Lil.

  My mother reached into her purse and pulled out three autographed photos of Mia Hamm for her granddaughter. “You’d be amazed at all the soccer paraphernalia they sell on eBay,” she explained. “Rachel, I bought you a jersey from the Mexican National Team. I’ve got one too. We can be twins!”

  Blake chimed in. “She watches soccer games on Telemundo now.”

  “Viva Mexico!” she said, raising her glass of sparkling water.

  We can be twins? Viva Mexico? How I wished I’d discovered soccer thirty years ago.

  That night my heart raced as I dialed Lil’s number. She would have had every right to greet me with a chill after more than a year of avoiding her. Worse, I kept her from Rachel. I did return some of her calls, but only during times I knew she wouldn’t be there. If the tables were turned, I’m not sure how forgiving I would’ve been. “Hello Lil? It’s Claire.”

  “Claire,” she said softly, extending the word like a mother’s stroke against a child’s cheek. “How are you, sweetheart? How have you been?”

  “Okay,” I said, ashamed of how selfish I’d been. “How are you?”

  “Okay, too.” After a moment thick with silence, she spoke again. “There isn’t a day I don’t think of him. Whoever said time heals all wounds never lost a child.”

  “I’m sorry I haven’t called. I just—”

  “I know, sweetheart. You tried to call. It just so happened to always be at the exact same time I’ve been volunteering at Children’s Hospital for the past thirty-four years.” (And she was really volunteering, not on some flubbed stakeout.)

  “Lil, I’m—” busted.

  “Claire, I understand. I have to tease you a little, though. You deserve that much.”

  “It was just too hard to—” I started before a lump formed in my throat.

  “It’s all right, sweetheart. You’re calling now and I’m so glad you did. Tell me something happy before we get each other going. How is your new home? Is Rachel adjusting?”

  “She discovered soccer and life hasn’t been the same,” I said. Lil laughed, coaxing me to tell her more. “The team is quite good, but some of the parents seem to think the girls are training for the World Cup. Some kids have their own private coaches, one’s already had two knee surgeries, and the manager ... ” I paused. “Don’t even get me started on that nut.”

  “Is Rachel on a travel team?” Lil asked.

  “Yes, how did you know?!”

  “You remember all of Stevie’s trophies? If you want to hear some crazy stories, I have a few of my own from Little League. One of the parents on Stevie’s team sued the coach for malpractice.” She laughed at the memory, though clearly it couldn’t have been funny at the time.

  “I didn’t realize there was such a thing as coaching malpractice.”

  “There isn’t. This father was trying to set a legal precedent to spare future children from being the victims of bad coaching.”

  “Wow, was the guy abusive or something?”

  “Have you ever heard of a child suffering long-term emotional trauma over losing a Little League championship?”

  “A child, no,” I said. “A father, I can see it. I can’t imagine a lawsuit over it, though.”

  Sounding like a damsel in a film noir, Lil said, “Stick around, sweetheart. You’ll see it all by the time Rachel gets to high school. The case was dismissed on summary judgment. Thankfully, the judge once played varsity football and understood how crazy parents can get.”

  “What have I gotten us into?” I said, laughing.

  “I’d love to see her play sometime,” Lil said. “When’s Rachel’s next game?”

  “Tomorrow, actually, but it’s up in San Luis Obispo. Our first game isn’t until two, so we’re driving up in the morning. The next time we’re in L.A. is—”

  “Claire!” Lil cried with the joy of discovering a fortunate coincidence. “My sister lives in that area and I’m going to visit her for the holiday weekend! I’m driving up in the morning. I was packing my travel case when you called.”

  “I was packing too!” I matched her excitement level.

  A drum roll marked the start of the Patriots Freedom Cup Parade. A male voice that sounded like the guy who narrates movie trailers welcomed us to the official kickoff of California’s oldest and largest kids’ soccer tournament. Though I wore a tank top and white shorts, the humidity made me sluggish as I stood with Lil and Darcy on the “Old Town” sidewalk. If a sheep hadn’t pooped three feet away from us, I would have been in better spirits. There was nowhere to relocate as thousands of parents stood shoulder-to-shoulder, moist arms smearing against each other. I spotted Leo and Bobby chatting with Dick about our team’s lineup. With his freshly-shaved face, Leo told the guys, “Nah, if we keep Savannah as sweeper, it don’t matter who they put up top. Sivious, nothin’s getting by my girl.”

  Dick set them straight. “That bitch Mimi put us in the gold bracket, so we’re up against three teams that made it to the semifinals of State Cup last year, and one that won it. We’re getting our lunch handed to us, and she knows it.”

  Bobby disagreed, saying that he wasn’t impressed with the Piranhas’ new team. “I watched them last week in the Turf Cup and they’re not so hot. They may have been a factor last season, but they lost half their girls when the coach went over to Corinthians. They’re nothin’ now.”

  Leo asked, “Why you was at Turf Cup? You got another kid?”

  “Checkin’ ’em out,” Bobby said. “I knew we’d face ’em here so I wanted to scope ’em out.”

  “Dude, you sick,” Leo said while high-fiving Bobby, who had also shaved his head.

  I leaned in to Lil and whispered, “Those are dads on our team.” She nodded. Lil wore a floral pattern sundress that reached all the way down to her wedge sandals, and held a lacy white fan that she occasionally waved in an attempt to battle the heat. Darcy waved to us and pushed her way through the crowd to stand beside us. “Darcy, this is Lil. Rachel’s grandmother,” I said.

  After they exchanged greetings, I asked where the rest of her posse was. Okay, I wanted to see where Ron was. “Helping Mimi get the girls warmed up,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Tough job in this weather, right?” Darcy wore her hair in a bun, but sweat formed around the crown. She stroked her throa
t often. I wasn’t exactly sure what it was supposed to accomplish, but she seemed committed to it, so I didn’t question her.

  Trailer Guy’s voice boomed importantly. “We enjoy our freedoms and liberties today because of the fearless sacrifices made by those who came before us. It all began when a brave band of Pilgrims set forth on the Mayflower to seek a better life in the New World.” With this, a giant Mayflower float sailed by the cheering crowd. Pilgrims on board waved their fifty-star flags with unbridled enthusiasm not typically associated with Puritans.

  “A fifty-star flag,” Lil whispered. “Ah, the fruits of the California educational system.”

  One long-haired teenage boy in a black Puritan hat and large white collar gave the crowd a hang-ten gesture and threw his head back and forth as though he were listening to Boiling Lead on his iPod. A middle-aged couple in the same get-up did the bump seventies-style, while one sexy little thing clad in black-and-white blew kisses at the crowd very suggestively. It wasn’t a friendly “love ya!” gesture. It was more like something from Puritans Gone Wild.

  “The slutty one looks like Gia,” I whispered to Darcy.

  Darcy gasped. “It is Gia!”

  “How did Gia get on the Mayflower?!” I shrieked.

  Lil smiled and quipped, “Now, now, she’s obviously seeking religious freedom like the rest of them.”

  Gia spotted us and began jumping up and down excitedly, which was never a good idea on a float. Tom chuckled and waved at us, “Hello, ladies!” That man disgusted me.

  “My goodness, you can see quite a bit of cleavage through that bib,” Lil remarked. We all looked more closely and realized that Gia had a slightly different costume than the rest. While most of the Pilgrims wore the traditional white bibs over black smocks, Gia had white fishnet covering the scoop neck of her black leotard. I thought I’d escaped the porn costumes at soccer tournaments in Manchester. Thankfully, Rachel was with her team and nowhere near this site, lest I have to explain to my fresh-faced twelve-year-old why Miles Standish had a boner.