Something Molly Can't See

by Carol Maloney Scott

  As I take his arm and we follow everyone else into the party, I wonder—is Tucker available? We haven’t talked about exclusivity. And just because he keeps saying he’s loved me all his life, that doesn’t mean he’s committed—especially given the horrible timing of us getting together at the same time Ray popped back on the scene.

  Tucker could be keeping his options open, and can I really blame him?

  Scratch that—hell yes, I can. I may not be as old-fashioned as my mama, but if I am sleeping with a man, he better be faithful.

  Great, I just added another uncomfortable conversation to my list. They keep coming at me faster than a hot knife through butter.

  As everyone is taking off their coats and the girls scatter in different directions to talk and grab food, I notice something odd right away.

  I touch Tucker’s arm as he’s hanging our coats up on the rack by the front door. “Hey, do you hear something strange?”

  He wrinkles his brow and says, “Yeah, there’s no music.”

  “I hope Arielle and Marcos didn’t decide that they weren’t letting us have any music because we all give them grief about their head bangers playlist.”

  Tucker shakes his head and says, “Nah, they wouldn’t do that. Wait, I think I do hear something. Maybe the speakers aren’t turned up.”

  I follow Tucker over to the corner where the sound system is located, and now we do hear very faint, quiet music. Tucker fiddles with the knobs and now it’s a bit louder.

  We look at each other in shock. This sounds like an easy listening playlist.

  We must look perplexed because in a moment Marcos is by our sides and he loudly whispers, “Hey, I hope this music is okay. I know you guys don’t like our usual stuff.”

  “Oh Marcos, it’s okay. As long as you play a variety of songs, everyone will be happy.”

  He must have decided that we were all too old for actual entertainment, so he swung in the completely opposite direction. The music at church is livelier than this.

  “So, I’ll let you in on the real reason. It’s better for the baby. It’s a compilation of all of my Chill Mix playlists from Apple Music.”

  The baby? Did someone bring a baby? And I thought maybe the girls were too young to come to this party.

  Oh, I hope he’s not referring to the baby in the King Cake. He does know that’s not going to be an actual baby? How much has he had to drink? His glass is full of a clear liquid, so I am guessing he’s drinking straight vodka?

  Just as I’m about to issue a field sobriety test, he says, “Arielle is pregnant. We’re going to announce it tonight.”

  We congratulate him and I laugh to myself about my confusion. Tucker slaps him on the back and they do some kind of man fist bumping, slapping handshake that I can’t follow.

  “I’d get you a beer to toast but you already have a drink.” Tucker is also eyeing the enormous glass of hard liquor the young father-to-be is consuming. Maybe he’s nervous.

  “No, man this is water. I’m not drinking a drop of alcohol until mi hermosa esposa delivers our pequeno bebe.”

  Marcos saunters off to make sure his bride is sitting down, even though she’s probably only like two months pregnant. We both promise not to say a word before the big reveal.

  “I’m not sure what he said, but it sounded nice.”

  I smile at Marcos as he attends to Arielle. Ray was so good when I was pregnant. I was about Arielle’s age at the time.

  I know people are going to give them a hard time for being such young parents, but I know it can work.

  “He said he’s laying off the booze until his beautiful wife delivers their little baby. High school Spanish. Plus we employ a couple of Spanish speaking guys at the shop.

  “Wow, if I knew you were bi-lingual I would have asked you to whisper some foreign words in the bedroom.”

  Tucker smiles nervously and says, “Yeah, let’s not talk about that because now that I can have you, but I still can’t have you, it’s not easy. But anyway, a baby for the Santos’. Crazy, huh?”

  “Well, I was only twenty when Magnolia was born. They’ll work it out.”

  “Yes, I remember how cute you looked with that baby bump, but my fourteen-year-old heart was broken knowing Ray got to you before I had a chance to become a man.”

  He takes a swig of his beer and I follow his eyes over to Ray, who is chatting it up with Ashley. She’s not the friendliest person here, but my wayward husband probably feels safer with new people. I’m sure Ken and Beth Washington will give him the cold shoulder.

  I am about to formulate a response to Tucker’s comments about my youthful maternity when Ken comes waltzing over, pulling a face like something smells.

  “Hey, you two lovebirds—love it that you got together, by the way. I saw you puttin’ the moves on this lady at the New Year’s party. Nice work, man.”

  He points a finger at the sound system and says, “I came over to put an end to that crap. These kids today either blow your eardrums out or they depress the shit out of you. Not my boy, though.”

  Ken and Beth are so proud of their son. He’s an honors student on a full scholarship at college. I know that will be my Zinnia, but I don’t know what’s going to happen with Mags.

  That reminds me, I need to tell Tucker about my planned trip with Ray and Magnolia to visit the fashion design camp in Philadelphia.

  Tucker and Ken are fooling with the music, and I see Ken plug his iPhone in and put Marcos’ in his pocket.

  “For safe keeping,” he says. “I slipped a Motown playlist in there. I came to party, not cry in my beer. See you on the dance floor. Beth Washington, get your fine ass over here.”

  And he’s off to find his wife. A man like Ken would never run away and not tell anyone where he was for a year.

  I sigh and lead Tucker over to the food tables with complaints about my hunger pangs. There’s a lot of great looking grub over there, and I am suddenly reminded of Meemaw.

  Whenever there was food around, she was always the first in line. I wonder if she’s having a Mardi Gras feast in heaven.

  We load up our plates and refresh our drinks.

  The girls are sitting with Sassy and her boyfriend, Stan (former occupant of Shawn’s apartment), and I notice Magnolia eyeing Shawn. She’s probably wishing he’d fill a plate and come sit next to her.

  Ray is on the phone in the entryway hall. I see him gesturing wildly. Really, it’s none of my business who he’s talking to. It’s not like his plot to get me back is going to work, so I don’t care if he has other women.

  It’s just hard not to get that sick feeling in my stomach when I see him doing something suspicious. Or at least something that was suspicious when we were married. I mean together. I mean…ugh…I pop another shrimp in my mouth and secretly hope Ray gets the baby in the King Cake tonight, and it’s big enough for him to choke on it.

  Tucker’s eyes are on me and he says, “Ray’s been on the phone a lot tonight.”

  “Oh, really I hadn’t noticed. I was just admiring the new photo on the wall in the entryway. I bet it’s one of Ashley’s.”

  Good save. That could be a photo that’s been there for a dog’s age—I can’t see that far away. I just don’t want Tucker to think I’m concerned with Ray’s behavior, because I am most certainly not.

  I do want to stay on Ray’s good side (if he has one) because I want him to take the girls on Wednesday, which is Valentine’s Day.

  If I act bitchy or give him too much sass, he’ll say he has plans. I could leave them at home so we can go out for a while, but Tucker and I really want to be alone.

  And since Tucker lives two doors down from us, it’s not like the girls won’t know if I’m over there. They’re smarter than that.

  We may have to get a motel or resort to one of the cars at the auto shop.

  How did I get to sneaking around with a guy again as a thirty-five-year-old mother?

  Ray. That’s how.

  He still hasn’t sa
id a word to me or Tucker tonight, and I’d like to keep it that way.

  Ashley walks by and I say, “Ashley, I know you didn’t do the planning, but this is a lovely party. As the apartment manager, you must be proud to see the residents so happy. Oh, and I noticed the new picture in the entryway. Is that one of yours?”

  She looks at me with an ‘Okay, weirdo’ look on her face. It’s not my fault her mama didn’t teach her any manners. I think she grew up on some kind of a commune in Upstate New York.

  At least that’s what Emma said. She’s been meditating with Ashley and their little group. I would join them, but I would feel so awkward. I’m sure I’d bust out laughing, and then Ashley would dislike me even more.

  At least she takes great pictures of my dolls.

  Ashley recovers from her pained expression and tells us all about the photo shoot she did with cars in a field, and now Tucker is interested in hearing about the cars, of course.

  Can’t she take pictures of flowers or people? Not that I’m jealous, but I just don’t get the warm peaches from Ashley, and it can’t be just because I didn’t like her stupid sign-up sheet.

  Or the fact that she recruited Tucker to plan the Valentine’s Day party. I’m sure she just asked the person least likely to sign up—that’s why he didn’t in the first place.

  But he accepted the challenge and told me it’s going to be very romantic and that even though everyone will benefit, he’s doing it all for me.

  Oh my, I just got a little hot again. I think the heat is turned up too high in here. Marcos is probably afraid of the baby getting cold, too. I mean, Arielle. Whew…I wish I had some clothes I could take off…I mean like a sweater.

  Ashley calls Emma and Olivia over and says, “Hey, while I have you all here, I wanted to invite Molly to come with us next Sunday. We’re going on a silent meditation retreat. There’s a great retreat center about a half hour from here. No one at Pentagon Place seems to have ever heard of it. But Emma and Olivia are going, too. We’d love for you to join us.”

  If Emma wasn’t smiling and included in this circle, I would take this as some kind of mean girl hazing ritual. But Olivia and Ashley are adults and functioning members of society, so I doubt they want to lure me into the meditation room so they can steal my clothes…wait, we will be wearing clothes, right?

  Now I’m getting meditation and massage confused.

  “Um okay, that would be fun. Or maybe not fun, but whatever…what do you mean it’s silent? Aren’t you always quiet when you’re meditating?”

  Magnolia and Zinnia tried it after they saw Ashley leading the group in the clubhouse, and neither of them could sit still or shut up for two minutes. It’s funny how they are so grown up on the one hand, and such little kids in so many ways.

  But of course I shouldn’t speak too soon. I could have the most ants in my pants of the bunch. I’m used to being on the go all the time.

  But maybe this will be good for me. I’m open to new ideas. I am dating Tucker and that was about as unlikely as a cat playing checkers with a bird.

  Ashley smirks and says, “Yes, but at a silent meditation you are silent the whole time. It’s actually a two-day event, so you’d have to take off from work on Monday. But I’m sure Tucker or Ray could help with the girls.”

  Oh, that will be a fun conversation to have with either or both of them. Hopefully I won’t come home to find the girls getting pulled apart by their father and my boyfriend.

  But knowing Tucker he’ll bow out, but it will hurt him. He’s done so much for my daughters while their stupid father was off doing who knows what. His story has more holes than a hobo’s underwear.

  Ashley explains the retreat and it sounds very weird, but also like it could be nice to have the burden of interacting with anyone removed for a couple of days. Maybe I do want to go inward. And once my chakras are opened up maybe Tucker could come out to the retreat center before I have to check out of my room on Tuesday.

  I swear I never used to have such naughty thoughts, but Ray was naughty enough for both of us.

  That thought makes me smile and cringe at the same time. Focus, Molly Mae.

  I feel like I’m channeling Meemaw now. Oh crap, I hope she’s not around. I don’t see her, but I am not clear on the rules of this haunting thing yet, and I’d like her to be out of the loop when it comes to my thoughts about Ray.

  I don’t want her to do anything to him—I’m also not sure how smiting happens. Smoting? However you say that Bible word—Mama would know.

  I agree to attend, and Ashley says she will send me the link to sign up.

  I can’t help but wonder if she gets a kickback for getting people to register, but that’s very cynical. She is probably just being neighborly since we got off on the wrong foot. I’m good with that.

  Olivia and Emma head over to the kitchen to refill their wine and Ashley says, “Make sure you register. You look like your chakras could use some aligning.”

  Dawson appears as Ashley joins the others.

  “Hey, are you gonna go to that mediation retreat?”

  “You mean meditation. I think so. Emma’s going, right? I need someone friendly to balance out Olivia and Ashley. Not that I don’t like them, but I don’t think Ashley likes me, and well you know how Olivia is.”

  “She’s actually been a little nicer lately. I think hangin’ out with Ashley has done her good. Maybe she just needed a friend. And yes, Emma is goin’, but frankly I’m a little worried.”

  He leans in and I know from many years of experience that Dawson whispers even louder than Marcos. “What do you think about all that ‘openin’ the shockrats?’ It sounds a little sketchy to me.”

  He raises his eyebrows and I don’t have the foggiest idea…oh My God. “Dawson, it’s chakras. And I don’t really get it, either. But I don’t think it’s anything bad.”

  “Are you sure? I was wonderin’ if it’s some kind of hippy code word for ‘lady parts’. And since I am not goin’ to be on this here retreat, I don’t want anybody openin’ up Emma’s…well you know.”

  I almost spit my drink. Dawson was always the funny one. But sometimes it’s his confusion that makes him so hilarious.

  “Sweetie, no.” I look up ‘chakras’ on my phone, and hand it to him so he can read about it.

  He asks me to send him the link and he’ll look at it at home, but he’s still not convinced this isn’t some sort of witchcraft. “Olivia assured me that it’s on the up and up, but I will sure feel better if you’re there.”

  I promise him that I will go and protect Emma’s openings.

  Since that sounds really bad, I excuse myself to the ladies’ room.

  Ray is on the phone again. I see this time he’s taking his call outside and he’s walking towards his car.

  I resist the urge to peek and see if he’s meeting someone in the parking lot. Who would he be meeting? His drug dealer?

  I laugh to myself and close the ladies’ room door behind me.

  I am immediately startled.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry I didn’t know someone was in here…oh Jesus Lord have mercy, Meemaw! What are you doin’ in here? Are you gonna eat fried chicken on every toilet in Applebarrow?”

  CHAPTER TEN

  “I can’t eat any of the food out there on that delicious looking buffet. I see you made the shrimp, good girl. Now if you tell me you made that for Ray, we are going to have words about that.”

  I sigh and lean against the sink and fold my arms across my chest.

  “Meemaw, I don’t need you constantly tellin’ me bad things about Ray. I’m the one he ran off and abandoned, remember?”

  “I surely do remember. But I can see you aren’t all the way over that man, and he can lure you into doin’ things.”

  Now I’m exasperated. And I still have to pee, and the toilet is occupied by someone who no longer has human bodily functions. At least I think so. Gives ‘ghost poop’ a whole new meaning if I’m wrong.

  “He hasn’t
lured me into anything. He’s been spending time with his daughters, and I have been dating Tucker. So I think you’re confused.”

  “No, Ma’am. You agreed to go with Ray to Philadelphia, of all places, to look at that fancy dress makin’ camp he wants to send Magnolia off to. As if a good southern girl should be shipped off to a city like that. But that’s beside the point.”

  “We are going to take Mags to look at it. We’re not goin’ by ourselves. What sense would that make?”

  “Is that what Ray said? Do you know the plan? Where are you sleepin? Who’s payin’—?”

  “Meemaw, please give me some credit. I’m not the naïve young girl I once was with Ray.”

  “Hmm…did you tell your beau you were goin’ on this little trip?”

  She raises one ghostly white eyebrow, and all of a sudden, she’s eating peach cobbler and the chicken is gone. Clean up must be a breeze in heaven.

  “I have not told him yet, no. But I fully intend to. And if Tucker wants to be involved with a divorced mother—”

  “Oh, you’re divorced now?”

  I ball up my fists in frustration as I am startled by a knock on the bathroom door. I still haven’t peed, and now someone needs to use the facilities and they probably hear me talking and think there’s a party going on in here.

  I hear Lia’s voice say, “Is someone in there?”

  I glance at Meemaw, but she’s gone. Great, once again she comes to scold me for something I haven’t even done, and I didn’t get a chance to ask her any questions about her life.

  If she’s going to meddle in mine, I sure as hell am going to pay Albert a visit, assuming he survives biking across the country.

  I shake off that morbid thought—I’m sure the man is in great shape. That’s probably why he gave up on Meemaw. Fried chicken isn’t going to get you a cyclist’s body, that’s for damn sure.

  I open the door and pretend to be wiping my hands.

  “Hey Lia, sorry, I was just on the phone…with Mama...sorry about that.”

  She eyes me quizzically, because she clearly does not see a phone and this dress has no pockets. But bless her heart, she doesn’t question me.