by Neta Jackson
When we got back to our table, Michael had disappeared. Instead, a middle-aged white woman with short reddish hair and chunky earrings was waiting for us, a smile plastered on her face. “Michael is taking his break,” she explained. “I’m his supervisor. Have you decided which time-share you are interested in? ”
“No, no,” Chanda murmured. “What be de cheapest time-share you got? ”
The woman looked gravely disappointed. “Oh. Well, of course. I can show you some in the ten-thousand-dollar range. But I took you for a woman of exquisite taste. I don’t think you’d be happy with something so basic.”
Oh, brother. But I noticed Chanda preened a bit when she heard “woman of exquisite taste.”
“Look.” The woman leaned close to Chanda and lowered her voice. “Just between us. I am authorized to offer one person a thousand-dollar discount on any of our time-shares over twenty thousand dollars, tonight only. You are obviously someone looking for value as well as elegance. Why don’t we look at some in that—”
Just then lights flashed, bells rang, whistles blew. I jumped, thinking it was a fire alarm. But all over the room, sales people rose and began clapping. A young Latino woman at table eleven stood up, sheepishly beaming. What in the—?
Chanda’s eyes rounded. “What? What? ”
Our sales lady glowed. “That is our first Glass Slipper sale tonight. She not only gets a free weekend vacation in Hawaii, but she gets four tickets, not just two.”
Chanda glared at me. “Four! Dat should be me! Mi got t’ree kids. How I know which one to take wit just two tickets? ” She whipped back to the sales lady. “What de second sale get? ”
AS I DRAGGED UP THE BACKYARD SIDEWALK sometime after ten o’clock, I heard the creaking of the porch swing in the shadows. “Denny? ”
“Hey, babe. Glad you’re home. You forgot to take the cell.”
I could barely see his face in the darkness. “I know. Sorry.” I wearily climbed the steps and sank down onto the creaky swing beside him. “Whew. Am I glad to be home.”
“I’ll bet.” His arm, resting on the back of the swing, slipped down around my shoulders and pulled me closer. “Next time, take the cell. In case you have a flat or something.”
I snuggled. “Aw. You were worried about me.” Wait a minute. I straightened up. “What are you doing out here? Is everything OK?
” Denny was usually flipping back and forth between TV news channels at this time of night.
“Yeah. I guess.” He shrugged. “Watched the nine o’clock news. They had a segment on that White Pride hate group tonight. Ran a picture of Mark—Mark before the beating, thank God. Also mug shots of the two guys they arrested. Kinda made me sick to my stomach. Decided to skip the rest of the news.” He expelled a sharp breath. “Still makes me so angry, Jodi.”
I laid a cheek on his hand resting on my shoulder. “I know.” I wondered if Nony had seen it. Couldn’t imagine having my pain splashed all over the news like that. The swing squeaked in the silence. I looked sideways at my husband’s face, tense, dimly outlined in the glow from the pole light in our alley. “The guys they arrested—you still pretty sure one of them was the same guy who threatened Mark at that rally? ”
Denny snorted. “Oh, yeah. Same guy. Name is Kent somebody.”
The guy with the girl at the rally . . . the girl I’d been praying for all summer . . . the “female member of the hate group” who’d probably turned him in. I wondered what had happened to her. Newspaper still hadn’t released the informant’s name. Did the police have her in protective custody? What happened to members of White Pride who ratted on the group?
“Hey. Enough doom and gloom. What happened tonight? Is Chanda the proud owner of a time-share in Hawaii? Did she get her free Hawaiian vacation? ”
“Oh, yeah. She got it all right. Paid twenty-two thousand five hundred for it.”
Denny nearly fell off the swing. “Whoa! For a three-day vacation? ”
“No. For the one-week time-share she bought on Maui. But I got the feeling that the perks of the ‘free’ vacation depended on whether she bought a ‘bargain’ time-share, or whether she opted for one with real class.” I shuddered. “They know how to lay on a real guilt trip. Made me feel like I ought to whip out our credit card and—”
“Jodi!” Even in the dim light, Denny looked stricken. “You didn’t take the credit card with you!”
I popped off the swing. “Don’t know how to break it to you easy, Denny, but—”
He grabbed at me. I danced out of the way. “—once you get there and see how beautiful it is, you’ll hardly notice how much—”
“Jodi!” There was a hint of alarm in his voice. “If you . . . I’m gonna . . .” He launched himself off the swing and grabbed for me again. I squealed, pulling open the screen door as Denny’s hand closed around my arm. I jerked away and made it inside the screen door, laughing, fumbling with the hook to latch it.
“Mom! Dad!” Josh’s voice behind me in the dark kitchen made me screech. “What are you guys doing ? ”
I leaned against the doorjamb, still laughing. The look on Denny’s face! I caught my breath and pinched Josh’s cheek. He hated that. “Just playing, sweetie.” I sashayed through the kitchen, calling back over my shoulder, “Just playin’ with you, Denny dear. Had you going, though.” The tiredness I’d felt ten minutes ago had totally disappeared.
Josh’s voice floated after me. “You guys are really weird , you know that? ”
IT OCCURRED TO ME on a trip to the bathroom in the middle of the night that maybe there was another reason Denny had been sitting on the back porch in the dark. That phone call from the high school.Was he worried? I should have asked him.
But the next morning I hesitated.Why make a mountain out of a molehill? He’d call, they’d tell him they couldn’t find the equipment inventory he turned in a month ago, and he’d have to go in and do it again. Something annoying but minor. I’d just wait and see. Besides, I hadn’t told him what Avis said about budget cuts for the elementary school district. No point in getting him all worked up on two fronts.
Or me, for that matter.
“Don’t be anxious about anything. But make your requests known to God,with thanksgiving.” Oh, eah. The “with thanksgiving” part . . .
“So did you call the school? ” I asked when Denny and Josh came through the door that evening. So much for wait and see.
“Uh-huh.” Denny pulled open the refrigerator door, grabbed the orange juice, and chugged it straight from the carton.
Josh headed for the shower. I could hear him pounding on the door. “Hey, squirt. How long you gonna be in there? I gotta leave in thirty minutes!”
I looked at Denny. “Where’s Josh going? ”
Denny wiped his mouth. “Said something about Edesa’s birthday.”
My eyes widened. “Josh is taking Edesa out for her birthday? ” Edesa was three years older than Josh! Starting her junior year in college.Not to mention she was my Yada Yada sister. I thought Josh had gotten the message when he’d invited her to his senior prom and she’d said no. Smart girl.
“They’re just friends, Jodi.” Denny headed for the front room and the newspaper.
Yeah, right. I trailed behind him. “So what did the school want? ”
He settled into the recliner in front of the fan and tilted it back with a whump. “Wanted to make an appointment for me to come in ‘at my earliest convenience.’ ” He shrugged. “I’m going in at four o’clock tomorrow afternoon.”
“Did they say what . . .? ”
Irritation flickered at the edges of his voice. “They want to discuss some staff changes. That’s all they said.”
Alarm bells started ringing in my head. “Staff changes! Oh, Denny, you don’t think—”
“No, I’m not thinking. No point in going there, Jodi.” He closed his eyes. Denny’s code for Leave it alone, will ya? I headed for the kitchen.
Amanda stood barefoot in the hall, wrapped in a towel,
arguing loudly through the closed bathroom door. “You’re going to celebrate Edesa’s birthday without me? ! She’s my friend, too, Joshua Baxter! In fact, she was my friend first! She was my Spanish tutor, remember? She came to my birthday last year, not yours. That is so unfair, stealing my—”
“So come with us,” said the muffled voice on the other side of the door.
Even I stopped short in the archway between hall and dining room.Did I hear right? Amanda gaped at the closed door. “Really? ”
The door opened a crack. “Really. But only if you can be ready in ten minutes, squirt.” The door slammed.
Amanda didn’t move. “I—I can’t. I’ve got to babysit tonight.”
The shower turned on behind the closed door. “Oh. Too bad,” Josh yelled. “Another time.”
He sauntered through the kitchen ten minutes later in cargo shorts, a sleeveless tank showing off that “sanctified” tattoo, his short sandy hair toweled dry—but not combed—and jingling his car keys. “Bye,Mom.” He planted a kiss on my cheek.
I looked at him sideways. “Joshua James Baxter.” I kept my voice low. “Did you know your sister had to babysit tonight? ”
He just grinned at me and whistled his way out to the garage.
DENNY SPENT THE EVENING in front of the TV. But he was in one of his leave-me-alone-I-just-wanna-veg moods, so I holed up in the kitchen to make dinner for Nony’s family—my turn to take something tomorrow. Didn’t really want to turn on the oven. Too hot.What could I make that didn’t actually need to cook?
A quick inventory of the fridge and cupboards turned up some decent romaine lettuce, three frozen boneless chicken breasts, a can of mandarin orange segments, a few forgotten slivered almonds, and a large can of crunchy Chow Mein noodles. Voila! The makings of a chilled oriental salad. Maybe even enough for two salads. Could even pick up some crusty bread at the Dominick’s bakery on my way to Nony’s house tomorrow.
As I sliced up the chicken for a quick stir-fry, I suddenly stopped, knife in midair. Edesa’s birthday. I’d told Delores we would celebrate at the next Yada Yada meeting. Better send out an e-mail and give the sisters a heads-up before I forgot.
With the chicken sizzling in the frying pan turned low, I booted up the computer in the dining room and opened our e-mail. Sheesh. How come we were still getting all these ads for Viagra!? I deleted as much junk mail as I could, moved e-mails for Amanda and Josh into their own folders, and scanned the rest. Denny’s parents, e-mailing their latest travelogue from Europe . . . a reminder from Uptown Community Church about the monthly men’s breakfast this coming Saturday . . .
A sputtering sound arrested my attention. Ack! The chicken! I ran into the kitchen and pulled the pan off the stove. OK, so the chicken would be a little crispy. I went back to the computer, temporarily deleted Edesa’s name from my Yada Yada group list, called up a new message, and began to type.
To: Yada Yada
From: [email protected]
Re: Edesa’s birthday
We’re all getting older and wiser, ha ha, even the younguns among us. Our dear Edesa has a birthday this week—can we celebrate at the next Yada Yada? Avis, you’re next on the list to host. This is the first time since you and Peter got married—let us know if you want to take a pass. You can always send him over to keep Denny company.
As an afterthought, I added prayer requests from our last meeting: Florida’s family, still looking for a larger apartment, preferably in Rogers Park . . . Chanda,who was moving in less than two weeks . . . a job for Becky Wallace . . . Mark Smith’s full recovery . . . safety for Ruth and her unborn baby . . .
I stared at the last thing I’d written. Safety for Ruth and her unborn baby. What, exactly, did that mean? Ben was in a dither about the risks—or so he said. Ruth had already had a couple of miscarriages, but she was into her fourth month now.What were the risks, actually, for a woman Ruth’s age? I didn’t have a clue.
The TV was still blabbing away in the living room. I sent my e-mail, then called up Google and typed “older women,” “pregnancy,” and “risk” into my search field. Hundreds of hits. I pulled up Web site after Web site, my insides sinking as I read.
Oh God . . . I had no idea . . .
Fifty percent of pregnancies after age forty ended in miscarriage. Fifty percent! Risks to the mother included high blood pressure, onset of diabetes, preeclampsia (or toxemia as it used to be known), even the risk of death from hemorrhage or hypertensive disorders. Risks to the baby—low birth weight, premature birth, birth defects, a 1-in-30 chance of a Down syndrome baby . . .
Oh God, please God, don’t let that happen to Ruth and Ben!
My heart felt stuck in my throat. I couldn’t read any more. I was just about to shut down the Internet when the words “Jewish women” on the list of sites caught my eye. What about Jewish women? I opened the Web site. It was titled, “Tay-Sachs Disease.” What in the world was Tay-Sachs disease?
I read the article. I wished I hadn’t.
9
The stuff I’d read on the Internet bothered me all the next day. Was Ruth really in danger? And Tay-Sachs disease sounded like a parent’s worst nightmare. But what was I supposed to do with it? Ben was already in a dither; no point raising the ante.Talk to Ruth? Was she in total denial?
That, and knowing that Denny had a meeting to discuss “staff changes” that afternoon, made me totally oblivious to the fact that I had no car to deliver my oriental salad to Nony’s household.Duh. How was I going to get this stuff to north Evanston?
When five o’clock rolled around and still no Denny, I decided to ask Stu if I could borrow her Celica, but a quick check of the garage told me she wasn’t home yet either.Rats.What was I going to do now?
I dialed Nony’s number. “Nony! I’m so sorry. I have your supper ready, but Denny’s not home yet with the car. He’s usually home by five in the summer—day camps, you know—but he had a meeting at four, and I don’t—”
“Jodi, calm down. It is all right.” In spite of Nony’s soothing words, she sounded distracted. “We can manage. We still have leftovers from Adele’s fried chicken.”
“Um, it’s a main dish salad, already made it. Just wanted you to know I might be a little—” In the background, I heard Mark calling her name.
“Jodi, I have to go. Don’t worry. It’s all right.” The phone went dead just as I heard our garage door go up.
Nick of time. Denny was home.
I grabbed the covered plastic bowl holding Nony’s salad and the bottle of celery-seed dressing and hustled out to the garage. He was locking the car. “Denny, wait. I have to take this food up to the Sisulu-Smiths. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
No response. He jerked his duffle bag out of the backseat.
“Oh. The meeting. I’m sorry, Denny.What happened? ”
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. But if you’ve gotta go . . .”
Argh! I did have to go. But I wanted to stay and hear what happened. Unless— “Denny, come with me. We can talk in the car. I promise we won’t stay long at the Smiths, but it’d be a chance to see Mark for a few minutes too. I know he’d rather see you than just me.”
Denny was silent a long moment. I knew he didn’t want to get back in the car after a long day. Plus a meeting with the principal. Maybe I should forget the salad, phone Nony, and tell her to go with the leftovers.
“OK.” Denny walked around to the other side of the car. “But you drive.”
I hopped in the driver’s seat before he could change his mind. Decided to skip the bread. No way was I going to ask Denny to wait ten minutes in the car while I stood in line at Dominick’s. “So. Tell me about your meeting.” I glanced sideways at him as we waited at a red light. “Bad news? ” I steeled myself.
“No.”
“No? Then what—? ” A car horn blared behind me. The light had turned green. “Don’t be so impatient, buddy,” I muttered. We crossed Howard Street and headed north into Evanston.Within a
few blocks, we were passing a rash of new condos going up.
“Good news, actually . . . I think.”
“Denny Baxter!” I felt like slugging him. “For somebody with good news, you’re acting like your dog just got run over! What good news? ”
“Turns out the AD quit. Resigned. He’s already gone. Kinda funny. They didn’t say why.” He frowned, as if rolling the information over in his mind.
Huh? I opened my mouth to say, “That’s it? ” But Denny started up again. “The district offered me the position of athletic director for West Rogers High. They’d like me to start ASAP.”
My mind did a spin. “Denny! Athletic director? That’s wonderful! ”
“Yeah, guess so. I hardly know what to think.”
“You guess so! It’s awesome! They knew your talents were being wasted as an assistant coach. Wow. A big pay increase, right? ”
He snorted. “Don’t know about big. This is still public high school. But, yeah, definitely an increase.To tell you the truth, Jodi, I don’t know how I feel about it. The job I’d really love is head coach. But . . . AD? That’s mainly administrative. I wouldn’t be out there coaching. I’d be hiring and firing, wrestling with schedules, dealing with conflicts. What I like is working with the kids. Coaching.”
“Oh, Denny.” I hardly knew what to say.We drove in silence as Chicago Avenue merged into Sheridan Road along Northwestern University. I finally put on my left-turn blinker at Lincoln and pulled up in front of the Sisulu-Smith’s ivy-encrusted home in the middle of the block. I shut off the engine.y insides danced with excitement, but I tried to sound sympathetic. “Look.We can talk about it some more after we drop off this food. But I just want you to know—I’m really proud of you, Denny.”
I didn’t dare say more. But what I was thinking was, maybe this was God’s ‘ram in the bush’ if my job got sacrificed on the altar of budget cuts.
NONY TOOK THE SALAD with a warm hug. “Thank you, Jodi. The meals help a lot.” I followed her into the kitchen while Denny dropped into the front room where Mark was parked in a recliner.
