Dear Neighbor, Drop Dead
Saralee Rosenberg
Dedication
To my parents, Doris and Harold Hymen, with love and gratitude from your funny girl.
(Now will you buy a copy?)
In celebration of the 70th anniversary of the Kindertransport, the British rescue operation that saved ten thousand Jewish children from Nazi persecution
No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.
Eleanor Roosevelt
Confidence is that feeling you have, right before you understand the problem.
Harold Hymen
Contents
Epigraph
Prologue
“Listen to her message.” Mindy Sherman replayed the call for…
One
“Have you seen my Costco card?” Artie brushed and spit.
Two
Beth Diamond was the next-door neighbor from hell. Stunning to…
Three
It was after two when a bedraggled Mindy arrived home…
Four
“Girls! Knock it off! I can’t take all this screaming,”…
Five
“I can not believe your mean, irresponsible daughter!” Beth shouted…
Six
For most families, the day before a vacation feels like…
Seven
When you learn that a loved one has possibly had…
Eight
It drove Mindy crazy whenever Artie insisted on asking his…
Nine
Mindy was trying hard not to be negative, yet she…
Ten
Taking the kids to see the Ringling Brothers Circus was…
Eleven
If deleting spam was an Olympic event, Mindy would be…
Twelve
When you marry a man with the same first name…
Thirteen
If you live long enough, you see everything. So said…
Fourteen
As pocketbook parties went, it was a decent turnout, particularly…
Fifteen
The last thing Mindy needed after her all-night “cerealathon” with…
Sixteen
When had marriage become as disposable as a lighter? Good…
Seventeen
It was fine with Mindy that Rhoda refused to speak…
Eighteen
Unlike need-for-speed Beth, Mindy was a cautious, courteous driver who…
Nineteen
Aaron had gone from being enraged in the morning to…
Twenty
“Does that really help?” Mindy watched Artie pace as she…
Twenty-One
There were times Mindy felt sure that Long Island was…
Twenty-Two
Why was it that when you were in the middle…
Twenty-Three
Mindy and Beth did not know how they were supposed…
Twenty-Four
It’s never the stuff you worry about that happens, it’s…
Twenty-Five
It was déjà vu all over again: Artie, Aaron, and…
Twenty-Six
It took five days for Mindy to be able to…
Twenty-Seven
Finally! Noah Blum, former-boyfriend-turned-hummus-selling psychic, got back to Mindy. “Fortunately…
Epilogue
On an unseasonably warm November morning, ten days before Jessica’s…
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Other Books by Saralee Rosenberg
Credits
Copyright
About the Publisher
Prologue
August 2000
“Listen to her message.” Mindy Sherman replayed the call for her husband. “It’s Beth from next door. I’m free today between four and six.” “What do you think she means? Is she saying, let’s hang out for two hours, or is it more like an open house sort of thing?”
“Beats me.” Artie pulled a desk lamp from a moving box. “Just show up at four and see how it goes…man, this is ugly. Where should I put it?”
“In the shed along with everything else your mother gave us.”
“Wish I could.” He made a sad face. “The Kramers took the shed, remember?”
“Oh, right…I still can’t believe we didn’t notice that at the walk-through. Anyway, don’t worry. I’ll buy you one for your birthday.”
“That’s a long time from now…maybe when you go next door, ask if we can share theirs. Did you see the size of it?”
“Yes.” Mindy peered over at the Diamonds’ backyard. “My mother’s condo isn’t that big…. What do you think I should wear? I don’t want to look like I’m trying too hard.”
“You look fine the way you are. Please stop obsessing over this.”
“I’m not obsessing. I just want to make a good first impression…did you notice her license plate? It says FSHN CRZY.”
“Fishin’ crazy?” Artie stretched.
“Duh, this is Long Island. Try fashion crazy. Nadine is totally intimidated by her.”
“Quick. Name three people who don’t intimidate Nadine. And you can’t go by your friends. Besides, we’re here one day…you really think she expects you to be all decked out?”
“Yes…how does my hair look? I should have let Josie cut it one last time before we—”
“Mindy! Stop! You’re a very nice person. She’s gonna love you. I’m sure you two have lots in common.”
“Like what? That we both drive silver cars and have ovaries?”
“Exactly.” Artie hugged her. “You’re the next Lucy and Ethel.”
“You know in real life they hated each other.”
“In real life they laughed all the way to the bank.”
“Which bank?”
“Oh.” Beth opened the kitchen door. “You brought the children.”
A red-faced Mindy shifted three-year-old Jamie on her hip while five-year-old Stacie clung to her leg. “Sorry,” she started to sweat. “Turns out they didn’t have work today, ha-ha…No, see, my friend Nadine was in Mommy and Me with you. She said your daughters were around the same age, so I just thought—”
“They are the same age, but this is my Calgon hour.”
“You’re taking a bath now?”
“No, it’s my time to relax. My au pair makes sure the girls are occupied. Do you have a live-in?”
“The cleaning lady slept over once when we had a wedding in the city.”
“I meant do you have a nanny or an au pair?”
“No. Should we maybe come back another time?”
“Would you mind?”
Oh my God, that wasn’t a serious question.
“Mommy, are we havin’ a playdate now?” Stacie tugged at her shirt.
“Maybe another time, sweetie.”
“I’m five.” She waved one hand at Beth.
Jamie stopped sucking her thumb long enough to hold up three fingers. “I’m dis many.”
“I guess you might as well come in,” Beth sighed. “The kids are in the den with Bridget, but I don’t like any running around before dinner and baths. I need them in bed by seven.”
“Oh, wow! I’m lucky if I get these guys down by eight thirty. My husband doesn’t usually get home until—”
“Whatever.” Beth ushered them in. “Bridget! Upstairs!”
Mindy didn’t want to appear like a gawking tourist, but the kitchen was nearly the size of her whole downstairs, and the gray granite was so rich looking against the black lacquer cabinets. Ah, but maybe Artie was right that they would find common ground. Oprah was on.
“Your kitchen is gorgeous,” Mindy gushed.
“It would be nicer if the tiles weren�
��t cracking…we’re suing the contractor…Bridget, I need you now!”
“Hallow little cuties.” A tiny blond appeared, no bigger than a child herself.
“Mindy? Bridget. Bridget? Mindy. What are your girls’ names again?”
“This is Jamie.” Mindy stroked the baby’s hair. “And this is Stacie.”
“Let them do a quiet activity.” Beth handed Bridget a laundry basket.” And take this down with you. And for God’s sake, no Play-Doh. I’m still finding pieces in the carpet.”
Bridget nodded and took the girls’ hands.
“She seems sweet,” Mindy said.
“Don’t ask.” Beth rolled her eyes. “I’m calling the agency before my ninety-day guarantee is up…Do you like tea?”
Uch, no! “Sure. Who doesn’t?”
“Herbal or Lipton?”
There’s a difference? “Whatever you’re drinking is fine.”
“Do you have a crazy neighbor from hell?” Oprah laughed. “Oh, this is gonna be a good show today…. I can hear those cell phones ringin’ now!”
“I saw this one already.” Beth started to change the channel.
“No wait,” Mindy blurted. “I didn’t.”
“Listen to this next story,” Oprah said. “It’s from twenty-eight-year-old Marie Morgan from Cranberry, New Jersey. Her next-door neighbor was so mean that she invited the entire block for a holiday party, but left out the Morgans because she said their house was an embarrassment…. Then she had the nerve to borrow Marie’s coffee maker and not return it.”
“I swear they make half this stuff up,” Beth turned to Mindy. “And whose business is it who you invite to a party? Don’t you agree?”
“Absolutely,” Mindy gulped.
“So do you do a lot of entertaining?”
“Not really. The holidays I guess, but it’s mostly family.”
“Good. I hate reciprocating strictly out of obligation. What does your husband do?”
“Oh, um, he’s an optometrist. He works for his dad.”
“An optometrist? That’s not a real medical doctor though, right?”
“And Marie, how did you feel when this neighbor put you on the spot?” Oprah asked.
“I’m turning this off.” Beth took out mugs. “I’m sure you’d rather hear about the crazy neighbors who live around here. Believe me, I could tell you stories….”
Dear Oprah, please repeat this show right away. I am in very big trouble. Love, Mindy.
One
Eight Years Later
“Have you seen my Costco card?” Artie brushed and spit. “I could have sworn it was in my wallet.”
“It was.” Mindy dried her face. “Then I confiscated it.”
“I knew it!” His baby browns were on high beam. “What the hell did you do that for?”
“Because normal people who go in for batteries and a roast chicken don’t walk out with six cases of Gatorade and a kayak.”
“Not just Gatorade. Fierce Grape! You know the kids go crazy for that flavor.”
“Fine. But a kayak?”
“It called out to me.”
“Hello? I’m your wife. I can prove you once got seasick in a hot tub.”
“I was on medication.”
“It’s not funny, Artie. We are so broke right now.”
“You still shouldn’t have returned it without asking.”
“Hey, you bought it without asking. Besides, I had to get it out of here before you gave it a name. Remember Fluffy Cat?”
“You were just as sad as me when she ran away.”
“Whatever.” Mindy shrugged. “Just tell me what’s so important that you have to get.”
“Can’t. It’s a surprise.”
“You want to surprise me?” She swatted him with a towel. Say to me, ‘Mindy, honey, I made a big deposit. We get to keep the house for another month.”
“Why do you always have to be so negative?”
“Damn! That’s right. I was supposed to pop the champagne when our checks bounced.”
“I told you that wasn’t my fault. It was a bank error. Now can I have my card back?”
“After you tell me what you’re up to.”
“Okay, but you’re ruining my secret. They got in these really nice sheds for the backyard and I thought, wow, perfect birthday gift for Mindy.”
“A shed from Costco,” Mindy repeated, “for my birthday?”
“Well, technically for both of our birthdays. You promised me one when we moved here, remember? And you’re the one who is always complaining about getting all the crap out of the garage. If we had a shed, we’d have a place for the crap.”
“Or…we could throw out all the crap, skip the shed, and buy me a new dryer.”
“Then you’d accuse me of being one of those jerks who buys his wife house gifts.”
“A shed isn’t a house gift?”
“No, it’s for the outside, and I was going to let you pick the color. C’mon. Think about it. In the winter, you wouldn’t have to stand out in the freezing cold cleaning off your car.”
“I thought that’s why we had kids.”
“I’m serious. You’ll thank me for this. Plus, where else would I put the kayak?”
“Doesn’t matter. I returned it.”
“That’s true. Fortunately, Ira found the same one at his Costco, and you know my brother. Had to brag that he saved me money ’cause the tax is less in Jersey.”
“Oh my God. What don’t you get, Artie? I don’t want a kayak, I don’t want a shed….”
“Then what do you want?”
“I want what every woman wants. A massage therapist named Ivan and a closet full of boots.”
“Not me.” He hugged her. “I just want a shed.”
Mindy shoved her cell phone under her pillow, fearing that the constant vibrations would wake the kids. She had hinted to her best friend to please stop text messaging so early in the morning, but when Nadine was bored, everyone had to feel her pain.
did u open the letter? Nadine wrote.
Mindy laughed. She knew her so well.
no 2 scared…u do it
y do I hafta do everything
‘cause lifesabitch n ur my friend
She lay back down, careful not to land on an arm or a leg. With her luck, she’d end up in Newsday: MERRICK MOM SQUISHES CHILD TO DEATH. FAILED MEDITERRANEAN DIET TO BLAME.
Now that the kids were getting older, she and Artie were trying to crack down on this co-sleeping habit. “C’mon guys. Give us a break. Stay in your own beds!” Only to have their pleas ignored when the eldest translated for the younger two. “They’re chill. They full out love us.”
So no surprise when Mindy awoke to find body parts dangling in every direction, as if this was the set of a horror flick. But who was she kidding? She felt well rested, and as every parent knew, sleep was the new sex. Besides, nothing pleased her more than pajama scent and taking attendance. All three children were here and blessedly safe.
Eleven-year-old Jamie and her Orphan Annie curls were burrowed under a pillow. A gentle nudge found six-year-old little Ricky lying at the edge of the bed. And when she groped the floor, there was thirteen-year-old Stacie, a former delight now turned premenstrual shrew.
Still, Mindy was not naive. She fretted about the proper age to break up this party, much as she’d agonized over how old the kids should be when they stopped showering with her. Thankfully her mother-in-law, Rhoda, VP General Motives, was happy to second-guess her.
“In the old days families slept together ’cause they had no choice. But you’ve got a four-bedroom house and the kids are big now…. What are you waitin’ for? To get knocked unconscious from a kick in the head?”
Artie had his doubts, too. Would their kids grow up thinking orgies were normal?
Mindy drifted off. Maybe the true story of the Sherman family bed could be the inspiration for a book, plus or minus some dramatic license. The saga would begin when a nosy neighbor reported their scandalous s
leeping arrangements to the child welfare authorities. Then faster than you could say “bed-in-a-bag,” the community would be in an uproar. There would be the requisite death threats, the innocent kids being pummeled at recess, and naturally, the fledgling civil liberties lawyer who took the case to the Supreme Court and won!
Enter TV’s title-weight champs, Larry King AND Barbara Walters, duking it out over who would get the exclusive interview with the brave mom from Long Island who had come out of the linen closet to defy the child experts.
But the best would be the People magazine spread featuring Mindy and her new svelte body, which would drive her next-door neighbor Beth crazy. “That can not be Mindy Sherman. She’s never looked that good. Bet they Photoshopped her.”
Sadly, the alarm rang, the fantasy faded, and Mindy had to rejoin the show in progress, a duet of gushing water. Outside, the heavy March rains were testing their aging gutters while in the master bath, Artie sang in the shower.
During the week he was so fastidious about his morning routines, Mindy could tell the time without having to peek at a clock. God forbid he should miss the 6:40, as if he was traveling on the Long Island Railroad and the rates were lower if he showered off-peak.
At least his daily ritual offered her a little solitude before she had to make lunches, look for lost sneakers, and write excuse notes, most of which were filled with lies about homework. It was the main reason they’d gotten their dog, Costco (Dollar Tree was too long).
But maybe Nadine had a good idea. She should open the letter from Downtown Greetings to find out if she’d made it through the first round of their contest, not that she actually expected the popular card company to like her entry. This way when they informed her that she’d been eliminated, she wouldn’t have to fake her disappointment, like actors who lied that it was an honor just to be nominated.
Dear Neighbor, Drop Dead Page 1
