Roller Coaster

by Karin Kallmaker

  When she tried to call up his face she didn't get more than his wonderful eyes, but maybe that was because Julie had them too.

  Nothing's wrong, she told herself. It's just life.

  And if this is what she did with a Friday night to herself, she didn't intend to have any more of them, that's for sure.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Shopping for swimsuits had been as depressing as expected. Every single one she tried on seemed determined to show off all the places she had never intended to show to the light of day again. They all screamed, "About to turn fifty!" She finally settled on a sea green with a pair of white gauzy cabana pants to pull on over it. Nevertheless, the day at the Stanford Mall with Julie, just being girly-girls, had been great fun. Justin had happily spent all of Sunday at the skate bowls in Menlo Park.

  Monday wasn't nearly so laid-back. A dentist checkup and dire warnings about her flossing habits was followed by reading up about the SATs both kids had to take next spring. It wasn't until Monday night that she decided to do more than rummage in the fridge for a quick snack. The profound change to the pantry and food cupboards finally sank in.

  "Wow, I didn't realize how much Laura reorganized."

  "There was a big box for a food bank she took away with her." Julie looked up from her homework. "Laura found stuff I couldn't eat that idiot Mary must have bought."

  "Good riddance, then." There was now room on the shelves in the pantry.

  "Do you know what stereoisomers are?" She was scowling at a textbook.

  "Well, since it sounds like isotope, I'm guessing it's something to do with chemicals." All the spices were alphabetized, she marveled.

  "I knew that already. I hate it when they introduce a new term and it's not defined at the first use."

  "Hello, it's me, your mother. No science background whatsoever."

  Julie wrinkled her nose and went back to her work. She'd always been comfortable with math and science and Helen hadn't been able to help her with either since she was nine.

  Laura was nothing if not thorough, Helen thought. It looked like the shelves had even been scrubbed, and all those bags of rice were gone as was the faint but bothersome smell of something in a package gone rancid. She was thinking of making a light pasta with olive oil, the soy-bacon that Julie could eat, capers and grated Parmesan, along with a salad. After such a light dinner maybe she could throw together some cookies for later as a treat.

  "We're reading Romeo and Juliet in AP English. I have to write an essay. Do you think I'll get an F if I say Romeo is a dope?"

  "Not if you back it up. So why do you say that?"

  Julie closed up one set of books and stowed them in her backpack. "Juliet's no better. They don't take control of anything. Just make pretty speeches and do nothing."

  "They maondke a plan to escape." She checked one of the pull-out cabinet shelves and admired the orderly arrangement of everything from cinnamon sticks to olive oil infusions-oh, there was lemon-infused oil. She'd use it for dinner.

  "And trusted people they shouldn't have. And like hello? So she's dead and he kills himself? Doesn't even go for some revenge. Or stick around for the funeral. If he had they'd be together."

  "Could they ever be together? Let's say she wakes up before he kills himself. The priest marries them. How long does he live after that? 'From ancient grudge, break to new mutiny' and all that."

  "He's such a loser, probably not long." Julie tapped her eraser on the table. "The thing with Romeo and Juliet both is that they take one look and are in love and then they're, like, all energized about love. They talk about each other, but really, they're thinking about love more than each other. They've grown up in this totally violent world and I think they're both completely Goth and think it's ripping cool that they're doomed."

  "Is that your essay preview?"

  "I suppose. They wouldn't have been happy if they'd lived. They used falling in love to get out of dying for a stupid reason. What did Mercutio and Tybalt die for? Some old man's honor. A fight they didn't start. They weren't in families, they were soldiers. At least R and J died for something of their own choosing. Oh." She wrinkled up her forehead. "I guess maybe they did take control of their situation. Their goal wasn't love, it was escaping death by family feud. And they succeeded."

  "I never thought about it that way," Helen admitted. "I want to read your essay when you're done." She was momentarily disconcerted to pull out the shelving where the pasta had always been stored and find no sign of the usual boxes. She started checking them all methodically, and it was a huge improvement to have everything thoughtfully organized, but really, where was the spaghetti and angel hair? It wasn't until she opened the last one that she found the note taped to the eye-level shelf.

  Fresh fettuccine in covered yellow container in the icebox. Discard any uncooked Tuesday.

  Fresh herbs in crisper. Check there first before using dried.

  Marinara in Mason jar in left lower freezer.

  Homemade mayo in Mason jar, right door. Store-bought

  can have oil blend that uses stabilizers not good for J.

  Even more impressed, Helen foraged as directed and came up with the pasta. It smelled and looked wonderful. Right on top were instructions for boiling it and the repeated directive to discard or use by Tuesday. She decided not to use the marinara since it was likely a leftover, which meant the kids had had it recently. Further investigation in the vegetable crispers revealed some already diced onion, a clove of garlic, and fresh basil, oregano and thyme.

  Ten minutes later the kitchen smelled wonderful. It was the herbs, she thought. The fake bacon even smelled good as she crumbled it into the pan with the nearly translucent onions.

  "It smells like Laura is here," Justin said as he entered the kitchen.

  "Are you saying your mother doesn't know how to cook?" Really, Helen thought, she didn't know if she should like Laura because she was efficient or hate her for being perfect. Surely the woman had some kind of flaw? Maybe she laughed like a drunken donkey or something.

  Fresh pasta cooked really quickly, and she had it tossed in the bacon and herbs before she'd even started the salad. "Come dish yourself some noodles, guys. I'll work on the salad."

  "If I rinse the greens will that help?" Justin was already reaching into the fridge.

  "Sure." Who had stolen her son, the one who thought food magically appeared on plates?

  "I think I want to be a chef." He brandished the paring knife.

  "That would be cool," Helen said. She was long familiar with his habit of adopting a new passion every few months. Skateboarding had lasted the longest.

  "Laura is teaching me."

  Julie coughed. "You mean you slugged me and she made you do K.P."

  "Did not. And I know what a chiffonade is, so there."

  "You're not supposed to hit your sister." She watched him pull leaves off a head of romaine and put them in a colander.

  "I didn't slug her. I was just playing around."

  "It hurt!"

  "You're a wimp."

  Helen shut it out, knowing it would run its course. Justin was carefully chopping the rinsed lettuce-impressive. She'd been too easy on them in the kitchen. They could work for their supper. Heck, they were probably old enough to make dinner themselves. Lots of kids did. But she wanted their afternoons focused on school, plus finding things like fresh herbs and pasta in the fridge to work with meant there was time for conversation instead of grocery shopping.

  One thing was for sure: Laura was a smart cookie. Justin actually looked like he was enjoying himself. She had tried to impress upon him that now was not the time in world history to be a lazy white boy, but he was utterly without ambition-just like his father. And, truth be told, he'd never have to worry about enough having money to live on. But it would be good to see him passionate about something. Surely he had inherited some of that energy from her?

  Julie cleaned her plate with an alacrity that left Helen relieved, yet set her hea
rt to aching. She'd trusted a lot of strangers over the years and to have one turn out to be so wrong for them that the kids were actually hurt was like a bad dream. But Laura was looking like a godsend. She'd be curious what Grace would have to say when they met in the morning. She was very glad she'd asked Laura to stop by in the afternoon tomorrow as well.

  "Grace is going to pick you both up from school tomorrow," she told Justin. "I'll meet up with you at the doctor's office. I still don't know how you managed not to get your Tdap shot. We were right there to get it in June after your exam."

  He shrugged. "Everyone kept saying I was gonna get some shot but I never did and it's not like I was going to volunteer."

  "And now instead of skateboarding with friends you're going to the doctor again. Not exactly the outcome you were hoping for, was it?"

  He rolled his eyes, probably because he'd heard it all when the postcard from the school asking for proof of vaccination had arrived. She planned to say it again tomorrow at the doctor's office as well. Food might be the way to an adolescent's heart, but repetition was the only way to their brain, most of the time.

  "Grace will take you on to get your hair cut," she said to Julie. Her stomach very pleased with dinner, she carried the salad bowl to the sink. "You know what you're going to tell the stylist right?"

  Julie handed over her dinner plate for rinsing. "I think so-I want it shorter. Everyone is into long hair and I'm kind of tired of it. You know that picture of you from Annie Get Your Gun? That long maybe."

  She measured a length of Julie's silky hair along her finger. "About three inches off? It should look good."

  "I want it to look like I chose that look. Unlike some people who look like they just rolled out of bed."

  Justin didn't answer this obvious insult. As much as they bickered, they did so far less than they had several years ago. Getting too old for it, or just growing up? It made Helen realize that in two years they wouldn't live under the same roof, probably. This was the year of SATs and college applications. It was all going to change and everywhere she looked there were signs.

  "So where are you going on that cruise?"

  She shook back tears she didn't want the kids to see. It wasn't like her to get teary-eyed. Hormones. "I'm supposed to get the tickets and information when I get back to New York. It leaves from Miami and I'm guessing Cozumel because that's not that far, ditto on Grand Cayman."

  "Sounds like fun. Will you go snorkeling?"

  "I don't know how-" She broke off to answer a call from Cass on her cell phone. "It's late for you."

  "But it's not for you. Crazy day. Anyway, I can definitely send you up for the role of Rosemary in a revival of Picnic. Starts rehearsals for the principals in March. Are you interested or not?"

  "Not. I just don't want to play a harridan spinster, especially in a supporting role."

  "Okay. I was pretty sure that was your answer, but I'm just crossing things off my list. Now how would you feel about the creepy housekeeper role if a stage version of Rebecca were to come along?"

  "Yes, I'd consider it, sure." It was a delicious thought, actually.

  "A lead in Private Lives?"

  "Noel Coward? Who wouldn't?"

  "Well, you're just full of yes for the plays that are probably never going to make it. I'll keep that in mind. Note to self, Helen doesn't want success anymore."

  "Helen has made her feelings very clear for the past twenty-something years."

  "Coffee. Wednesday." Cass hung up.

  She explained to the always curious Julie which harridan spinster part she was refusing to play as they collaborated on mixing oatmeal-butterscotch cookies. Justin returned as the first batch came out of the oven.

  "Your timing is amazing."

  "No," he said, big shimmering eyes wide, "you are."

  "Your sister helped make them."

  He treated his sister to the same look. "Amazing. And smart."

  "Oh, have some," Julie said. "Before it starts to smell in here."

  He had a cookie and then surprised Helen with an enveloping hug. "You are my favorite mother."

  She hugged him back. "You are such a bullshit artist. You will go far in life, my son."

  "Can I have another cookie?"

  "Yes, two more. Let's watch something. I can't believe it's already Monday night."

  At least with a TV show on and all of them enjoying milk and cookies she didn't mind the hot flash that came and went, and the kids didn't notice. But she lay awake for a good chunk of the night, thinking about Cass and her dream boards and belief that wishing something into her life would make it so. But wishes didn't stop time.

  Their after-school errands were completed in rapid succession, but it was still a little after five by the time she parked the Saab in its garage. The van was already back so Julie was home, post-haircut, and Grace had likely retired to her apartment. There was also a Volvo in one of the parking bays, which meant Laura had already arrived.

  Grace had been grudgingly positive about Laura, but that was how Grace was about everything. Nine months and she still didn't understand Grace's negativity. She knew it was too early to tell if the excellent chef was also good with managing her budget, which was all Grace cared about, but Grace hadn't even said she liked the food while the kids raved about it.

  Laura was seated at the table in the bay window, reading something on what was probably an iPad. She looked poised and comfortable in jeans and a burnt orange blouse that set off her dark skin. She immediately looked up with a cheerful smile. "I got here early and dropped off a few groceries. I hope you don't mind that I had a cookie-it was just too tempting. The cardamom was genius. I'll remember that."

  "Not at all. One less on my hips," Helen said immediately. "I'm glad you liked it. Julie and I made them last night."

  "Where would you like to talk?"

  "In here is fine. I was going to start dinner. Dang-I meant to stop for some fresh fish."

  "There's frozen uncooked shrimp. It looked like it hadn't been there that long. Even frozen will turn out nice with some gentle treatment." Laura closed her tablet. "Let's talk and cook. Two of my favorite things."

  "You're not supposed to cook tonight, really, it's not right-"

  "I can't sit idle. It would be physically painful to me to do nothing." Laura's pleading brown eyes reminded Helen of Justin. "Torture."

  Helen laughed. "What about poaching?"

  "Great idea." Laura was already getting out the shrimp and dropping it into a colander. With cold water running over the frozen mass, she said, "I noticed there's no wine in the kitchen."

  "I don't drink at home. There's a fully loaded bar in the living room-locked-for entertaining, but I didn't want to get into a debate about wine versus marijuana with the kids when they should have nothing to do with either at their age." She went to the pantry with a large container of vegetable stock. "It looks terrific in here, by the way. I can find things again."

  "Thank you. About wine-would you object to my using it in subtle ways in some dishes? It's a dye-free coloring agent, for one thing, and adds umami...savoriness."

  "I can see that-good idea. I love coq au vin. And mushrooms sautéed in a dark red smothering just about any kind of meat." The vegetable stock went into a cook pot she set to come to a boil.

  "I won't go overboard, and, of course, all the alcohol will evaporate. Some white in the poaching stock would be delicious if we had it-I'm all about flavor." She continued to work with the shrimp, which was thawing. "Do you want to poach in the shell or out?"

  "In the shell is more flavorful, isn't it?"

  "But messier to eat."

  "In. Oh, I'm thinking evil things like butter and garlic for a dipping sauce."

  Laura grinned. "Sounds good."

  The broccoli in the crisper looked fine and Laura suggested simple steamed rice, which she quickly measured and set on the stove to boil. They worked companionably for a few minutes, Helen focused on trimming the broccoli as she listened
to the speedy snick of Laura's paring knife mincing herbs.

  She found herself trying not to stare. It wasn't that she'd never seen someone use a knife with that kind of skill before. She'd had several dinners at chefs' tables right in the kitchens of some of Manhattan's finest eateries, and she'd been to numerous fundraisers featuring celebrity chefs. It was more the economy of Laura's movements that was so mesmerizing. The pile of finely minced herbs grew, and then without hardly a break in motion, garlic was smashed, peeled and minced as well.

  "Practice," Laura said and Helen realized she'd been caught staring after all.

  "It shows. How do you think the budget is for food?"

  "Quite easy to live within. I did want to ask about stocking frozen goods, like this shrimp. You obviously like to cook, but I can't buy fresh fish for you on Saturday unless you're going to make it on Sunday."

  "It would be a shame to have to throw it away, but you have no way of knowing my plans for Sunday." Helen put the broccoli in a microwave steaming basket. "We've been around that conundrum a couple of times, and that's why there's frozen shrimp and chicken. What worked with the chef before the horrible Mary was if you notice I've used something, replace it in two weeks or so."

  "Sounds good. You don't like to shop, do you?"

  "Not groceries. I guess I'm passing the buck." She set the microwave on medium-high for six minutes. "If I never buy any groceries, then I never have to blame myself if Julie has an attack."

  "You're paying handsomely enough to expect me not to make mistakes. Plus I love food shopping. I thought I'd miss the market experience, but you've got a great one right here in Woodside, and there are farmers' markets literally all over the area. I've been down to Monterey and up to Berkeley in the last two days. Beautiful produce, amazing variety even for this time of year."

  She watched Laura fetch butter from the refrigerator and pop a stick in a small saucepan. It was tempting to just sit back and admire. She was a talented woman, and obviously single. Well, that was true of Cass, and she was single too. Apparently, lesbians had no lock on the relationship thing either. Maybe she'd gotten her heart broken or something. It would explain the career change at this stage in her life.