“May as well eat something while the food’s out,” Jessalyn says. “May as well grab a cocktail too. You are going to need one.”
I guess I may as well. It’s a buffet dinner set up with all sorts of different food. Chicken spiedini, some sort of meatballs, pastas and sauces, dips, bread, salads, desserts, and they seem to all end up somewhere on my plate, except the red sauce. Then I head to the bar for a vodka&7 and go back and sit down with the girls. I notice that Jessalyn is not eating, but she does have a glass of red wine. She probably is going to need it. We are at a table set for eight people, but it’s just the three of us plus two men in brown suits who look like they must be old friends of Jessalyn’s grandfather. They are watching the slideshow and sipping on drinks. They are both old and have kind-looking faces. I bet they have lots of grandkids and would be appalled to know what their dear old friend did to one of his own. I look around the room and notice a banner that reads, “Happy Birthday Wallace!” There is also a stand with a guest book that I do not plan on signing.
Many of the guests are finishing dinner and are up mingling and making small talk. This is quite a nice party actually. By the looks of this group, old man Wallace has many friends and lots of family. The one guest that strikes my fancy is a very drunk old lady on a Hover Round Scooter. I’ve seen her run into two tables already and she keeps yelling out, “Play Brickhouse!” I like her. What a fun gal. She has short gray hair that is sprayed into a perfect sphere. She is rocking a gold dress with white lace-up orthopedic shoes. She’s like an elderly fashionista on wheels. She keeps riding her scooter up to the bar and says, “One more to keep me young!” That will be me someday. I just know it. Oh damn…she just ran over a woman’s toe. That had to hurt. It’s a good thing there are no cops here, or she would get a DUI on that scooter.
There are not many children here that I can see, but I do see one little girl in a cream dress with black polka-dots, and she is hanging on her mother’s leg. My mother antennae suddenly go up and I can’t help but keep my eye on her and make sure she doesn’t leave my sight with a pedophile in the room.
“Tell me, who is who,” I say to Jessalyn, “at least the important people.”
“Okay, see that older lady over there with the gray roots and reddish hair? That’s my aunt who raised me after my mother died. Her name is Katherine. Over in the corner, the pretty girl with the man candy is my cousin Erin, Katherine’s daughter and that is her daughter, Maggie.” I realize she is talking about the little girl in polka-dots.
“How old is your cousin? Were you raised in the same house together?”
“She’s five years older than me, and yes we were raised together with my grandfather and my aunt after my mom died. We were never that close. She was always just interested in boys and just enough older than me that we had nothing in common. She moved out when she was seventeen, she got pregnant with a son, but lost custody of that child. Who knows where he is now…so sad. See that guy she’s with? That’s not Maggie’s father. She doesn’t even know who the father is…”
I notice that Jessalyn’s eyes are not with us, she’s off in deep thought somewhere.
‘Well,” she says “I’ll go get us some more drinks!” She quickly trots off to the bar leaving me and Sabrina sitting with our hot dates in the brown suits. I claim dibs on the one with the curly mustache.
“Holy crap, Vadie, what the hell have you gotten us into?” Sabrina is giving me that look.
“I don’t know, but thank you for coming bestie,” I say.
“I think she’s going to chicken out.”
“So what if she does,” I say, “at least she tried.”
Jessalyn comes over and drops off more drinks and sits down. Sabrina and I quiet down and a voice comes over a microphone. It’s her aunt, Katherine.
“Good evening everyone.” The music is cut and the room is silent. “I would like to thank you all for coming out tonight to celebrate this wonderful occasion. Today as you know marks the ninetieth birthday of my amazing beloved father, Wallace Dickey.” Wallace sits in his chair soaking up the attention like a sponge.
Sabrina and I immediately shoot each other a look. Is his last name seriously Dickey? Jessalyn starts laughing when she sees us looking at each other and the brown-suited silver foxes glare at us like we are hoodlums. We are.
“As you know, my father Wallace is a war veteran, a member of the Rivergate Society for a Greener Community, an entrepreneur, a retired school board member, (I gasp) a political activist, and the most gentle and kind-hearted man I have ever known. And as many of you know he lost a daughter many years ago and found the strength in his heart to help me raise his orphaned granddaughter. He’s a true hero.”
(applause)
I swallow the rest of my drink. I can’t believe that this woman is saying this into a microphone, like Jessalyn is not sitting in the room. Many guests glance at our table and nod, as if oh yes, this burden on him sitting here at this table should entitle him to such praise. What a joke.
Katherine keeps going as if she has just introduced the president. “Happy Birthday to you, sweet Daddy. I will always love you and I hope we are here to celebrate twenty more birthdays for you.” She raises her glass and so does the rest of the room. I look at Jess, to see her reaction but she is back at the bar ordering another round. If this man is still celebrating another birthday in twenty years I’m afraid I’ll have to attend along with the people from the Guinness Book of World Records.
Katherine, so proud of herself, introduces several people who also come up and sing old man Wallace’s praises. We are sipping on our drinks I think we are all feeling a wee bit tipsy. Katherine takes back the microphone.
“I know that there is one more person here, who would like to say something about her grandfather. The person who was saved by him most of all. The person who really owes him her very life right now. Jessalyn, I would like you to come and say a few words…to your grandfather about what he means to you.”
Oh God. This wasn’t what was supposed to happen. We had a different plan. The plan was going to be leaving notes at the end of the party to the people she thought should know the truth. She is going to crack. How dare this woman put her up to this! Jessalyn looks at me surprised.
“You don’t have to go up there,” I say.
She suddenly gets a vixen-like smile on her face and says “Oh, yes I do.”
Sabrina and I sit and watch as she takes her red wine up to the podium and adjusts the microphone. I watch Wallace’s eyes on her and I see what she means about the threatening look she told me about. His face has changed from an old man to a villain in a storybook, kind of like that guy from Poltergeist. He almost looks evil. She looks down at the floor and then forces her eyes to the crowd.
“Hello everyone. I am the one who owes my life to this man. After the death of my mother, he and my aunt took me in. They let me eat and sleep and they even gave me a bed. Can you imagine that? Can you imagine a little orphaned girl all scared and alone…being taken in by her very own family? He is a hero, just like you all say. I mean without him I wouldn’t be where I am today...just released from rehab.”
The crowd is confused; almost as if they aren’t sure they heard this right. People are looking at each other and the tension in the room is growing as thick as the bush of Bath Salts Mary.
“I mean, why didn’t they just let me starve? Well, don’t worry everyone…I’m taking care of that now. Can’t you see that for yourselves?” Jessalyn lifts up her shirt to just underneath her bra revealing protruding hip bones and ribs. A gasp fills the room. Katherine stands up and starts to interrupt, but is quickly shut down by her daughter Erin. Erin then whispers to her boyfriend to take Maggie outside. He puts her on his shoulders and they bounce out the door.
“So Katherine, first I would like to thank you, for not letting me physically die. I was already dead enough on the inside. All those nights you pretended not to notice him coming into my room. You pretended not to n
otice what was going on right in front of your face. You let him do it!” Jessalyn is now shouting and tears are falling down her face. She turns her glare toward Wallace. “My mother should have killed you instead of herself. So go ahead and toast to your hero everyone, but while you’re at it take a look at his troubled Granddaughter. I’m sure everyone has always wondered why dear old Wallace’s granddaughter has so many problems. Why she doesn’t come to visit him? Why doesn’t she call him once in a while, especially on holidays? Well, I’m here now aren’t I? Yes I am...so here’s to you.” She raises her glass. “Happy birthday motherfucker.” Jessalyn throws her glass down to the floor and it shatters. The room is in total shock. She looks at me and Sabrina and we know it’s best to follow her right out the door. I look around at the stunned guests and throw up a wave and say “goodbye.” I then look at Wallace and say “Happy Birthday.” Oh my God that was so awkward. Why would I say goodbye? Why would I wish him a happy birthday? I’m such an idiot. I clearly can’t handle awkward situations.
As we are walking out I hear the old woman on the scooter reversing her cart. I know this because I can hear the beeping noise. I then hear her start cussing out Katherine and Wallace. I can’t make out exactly what she said, but I hear enough to know she used the words “ashamed of yourself” and “piss on your grave.” I knew I liked her.
Once we are in the parking lot, Jessalyn sees Maggie and Erin’s boyfriend throwing rocks onto the golf course. Jessalyn runs over to Maggie and gives her a big bear hug and kisses her face. Then she runs toward Sabrina’s car and we follow, still stunned. A voice in the distance is yelling “Wait!” It is Erin.
She catches up about ten feet away from the car and her eyes are full and red. “I’m sorry I didn’t help you back then,” she says. “I was young and stupid and I trusted my mother’s choices. I was wrong Jess…I hope someday you can forgive me.”
“I do forgive you, Erin,” she says. “Just take care of Maggie and never, ever let anything happen to her.”
“I won’t.”
We get in the car and drive off. Jessalyn busts out laughing. “Did you see the look on his face? Did you see Katherine? I can’t believe I did that. That was priceless! I bet he shit in his grandpa diaper!”
I seriously am speechless. I don’t know what to say and I know Sabrina is about to lose it. I can only imagine what she must be thinking.
“I feel like I am free! I feel like I have had chains on me my whole life, and now they are gone. I feel like now…I’m not living a lie anymore.”
“Well,” I say, “that’s sensational!”
“Sensational?” Jessalyn asks. “Who the hell uses the word sensational?”
“I’m glad at this point, Jess, that you are interested in the particular choice of words that I am using. For crying out loud, after what just happened at the bash, I think right now we should really be focusing on my word choices!”
Girl’s Night Out
“Let’s celebrate!” Jessalyn yells.
“Why not?” agrees Sabrina.
“Umm, ladies...I think I forgot my ride was supposed to pick me up like an hour ago!” Oh crap! I really did forget. Jeremiah must have been waiting outside and I didn’t pay an ounce of attention to the time. Well, the therapy panel’s going to shit a brick.
“Nothing we can do now. Let’s go get one drink, just one, and we’ll take you back to the nuthouse.”
“Might as well,” I say and throw my hands up. Sabrina steps on the gas and we head down the road to an old biker bar called Carl’s. She passes out smokes and I didn’t know Jessalyn smoked, but apparently we all do now, at least for tonight. I know she chooses this bar because no one here would ever recognize us, unless there are some bad-ass moms in the kids’ school that I just don’t know about. All I know is that neither Sabrina nor I have ever been here. I doubt Jessalyn has either. It doesn’t seem to be a hangout for models. It’s just one of those bars you drive past and don’t notice.
We walk in and the place is not crowded for a Friday night, at least I would assume this bar at least gets some sort of crowd on the weekends. There is a row of pool tables occupied by some ZZ Top looking guys and a few ladies in short skirts and dreadfully high heels. It is dark and smoky and has a 70’s vibe with vintage red shade lights hanging from the ceiling. I realize we stand out like three sore thumbs, but I’ve had enough to drink that I really don’t care. We find an empty table and plop down like turds in a punchbowl. A bleach blonde waitress who looks like she’s been ridden slick, walks over and asks what we “little girls” want to drink.
“Three tequila shots!” Jessalyn yells out.
“Right,” says the waitress, like she thinks it’s so cute that we are trying to be big bad tequila drinkers.
I know this is a bad idea. First of all, I am a puker when I drink. Second of all, tequila makes me crazy. Kind of ironic isn’t it? What the hell. I’m already a fugitive. I may as well act like one. After our shots arrive staring us in the face like, “what now bitches?” Jessalyn pours our salt and raises her glass.
“Here’s to one sick and twisted anorexic, one mentally messed up mommy, and one chick who’s up for anything…and…to new friends.”
I raise my glass. It dawns on me that we will probably stay friends. People don’t just go through these kinds of experiences and then never see each other again. We suck our limes and before I know it, I can’t really remember how many we’ve had. All I know is that there is music playing on the jukebox and when you combine music and tequila, asses start shaking. I’m not sure if there is a dance floor but we seem to have decided that there is. We even push tables back to make some room. Not only are we dancing, but so is the waitress who is now chugging a beer, and we seem to have attracted some very hairy- and scary-looking men who are twirling us around to the sounds of Poison. I do believe I am a bit wasted, Sabrina is looking trashed, and ninety-pound Jessalyn appears to be drunk, but otherwise getting along quite swimmingly.
The next thing I know, we are on the bar and we are using every square foot of it as our stage. Apparently we are quite a fun bunch and so is the company we are keeping. The music is blaring. Jessalyn is getting dollar bills thrown at her and Sabrina is double fisting her beers and yelling “Play some Kid Rock!” What would the other room moms think? Can you imagine? Here’s the mom providing crafts and games for all the school holiday parties...drunk, dancing, and smoking on a bar with bikers all around. We are acting like spring breakers in Cancun. A beefy gentleman grants Sabrina’s request for Kid Rock and the three of us women act like we won the lottery. You must bear in mind that I drive a mini-van. Our beer bottle microphones and screaming over the music and shenanigans are not my typical Friday night activities. I’m so wasted that it just doesn’t matter. We are dancing with moves we didn’t even know we had.
The next thing I know, I hear a thud, and see the floor. I seem to have fallen off the damned bar, flat on my face. Then I see blood. I think it’s my nose. I can’t really feel it. A mob of beards and bandanas flock to my side and pull me up. The music stops. Okay, I’m embarrassed. Sabrina and Jessalyn are just frozen looking down at me. A short bald guy hands me a napkin for my nose. I pinch it to stop the bleeding. Have you ever had an entire bar staring at you at the same time in silence? I put the napkin down on a table, throw my arms up and yell, “ROCK AND ROLL BITCHES!”
Applause, applause, and more applause. The music starts again and I’m back on the bar acting like a fool. It’s like nothing ever happened. Song after song, beer after beer we finally start to wear down. We dance and drink until we can no longer speak proper English. We are so drunk that our dancing has turned into just waving our arms like one of those blow-up critters they put up in front of car dealerships.
“Last call for alcohol!” the bartender hollers over the music, which is now KISS.
“What the hell time is it?” I ask.
Sabrina yanks out her cell phone from her purse. “One forty-five,” she yells.
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br /> “Oh my freaking bloody hell!” I yell. “I’m in so much trouble! When did it get so late?”
Sabrina decides to call a cab, which is really the only smart decision we make all night long. A delicious looking man, who I think may have fleas and a rash under his beard, takes care of our tab. Our cab driver looks at us suspiciously and then shrugs his shoulders when I tell him the first stop is the New Outlook Center. I can’t even imagine what he must be thinking, and being so drunk I find the whole thing quite hilarious. It’s no time at all before our Deluxi-Cab pulls into the parking lot and the dimmed lights inside suggest that all the crazies have been sedated and are sleeping peacefully in the safe confines of the mental ward. The driver stops and I get out on the curb. I thank the girls for a fun night. We all hug goodbye and I promise to call them and let them know when I am going home.
I find myself standing on the curb and watching them drive off. I am in a drunken stupor and I realize that I am barefoot and must have left my flip flops in the cab. That’s a problem when I drink. First of all, I would normally never take off my shoes off in a cab of all places. Plus, I can never remember what I am doing. Then it hits me…how the hell am I going to get inside? What was I thinking? I can’t just walk in the front door and tell security I had a real nice time at Carl’s. I should be slapped. I don’t know what is wrong with my brain. I had this big grand plan to sneak out of here and I thought it went quite well, but I never even thought about getting back in. I immediately panic. What if they can see me? What if they notice I am missing and have put a crappy picture of me on the news and the whole state is looking for Ben, Max, and Jordan’s mom…escaped psychiatric patient, considered dangerous. Fan-freaking-tastic. This is going to be great for me at my sons’ baseball games. I can just see the mom’s chatting on the bleachers together taking turns catching glimpses of me without being too obvious. No one will invite my kids to birthday parties. Who wants their kids hanging out with “that one lady’s” kids? “That one lady” who was on the news…“that one lady” who was in the mental ward. They’ll never let their kids come over for play dates in fear that their children may be duct-taped to the wall and covered with mayonnaise. There’s no telling what could happen at “that one lady’s” house. I am pacing around like a total freak show and I notice the chain link fence that begins on the side of the building. I brace myself because I know I’m going to have to climb that fucker.
The Unbalancing Act Page 14
