Sandwiched

by Jennifer Archer

  Erin picks at her chicken and doesn’t look up.

  Baffled, I set down my glass and lean back in my chair. “Are you excited about the concert or just ready to get it over with?”

  She looks up and smiles. “I’m excited.”

  Good. Maybe she’s through with the boy-crazy phase and ready to focus again on what’s important. Her music. Her schoolwork. Scholarship applications.

  “Noah’s coming.”

  “What?”

  “To the concert tomorrow. Noah’s coming to hear me play.”

  “Oh.” I sigh. So much for what’s important.

  “That’s nice, Erin,” Mother says. “I like him.”

  “You see too much of him,” I say. Which isn’t exactly true, but I can’t help worrying about her having a steady boyfriend so young. “You should spend more time with girlfriends. Maybe see other boys from time to time.”

  Erin makes a face. “Don’t start. A minute ago you said I was spending all my time practicing.”

  “It’s just….” I fidget, desperate for the right words, words she’ll hear. “You can’t be too cautious when it comes to guys. How well do you even know him?”

  “Well enough.”

  “What’s his college major?”

  She lifts her chin. “General Studies.”

  “General Studies isn’t a major, it’s a cop-out for someone with no direction, no ambition.”

  “He has ambition! He just took this year to decide what he wants to do.”

  “Which is?”

  “Go to film school. He’s applied for scholarships all over. He’s waiting to hear.”

  She folds her arms and fidgets, as if she’s upset, which makes me suspect that the scholarships are not to schools around here. I remind myself how it felt to be young and to care for someone, then watch them leave, and I feel a twinge of sympathy for her. But relief outweighs it.

  Mother tucks her hanky back into her purse. “Noah seems to be a nice enough young man, Cecilia. He’s very polite.”

  “So was Eddie Haskell and look at all he did when the grown-ups’ backs were turned.”

  “Who is Eddie Haskell?” Erin asks.

  “Leave It To Beaver Eddie? ‘Good morning, Mrs. Cleaver.’” I mimic in a sarcastic voice.

  Mother laughs. “Oh, CiCi. You’ve become such a cynic. Why don’t you spend some time with Noah when he comes over? Get to know him better. Maybe he’ll surprise you. Maybe you’ll like the boy.”

  My daughter beams at her Nana. “I bought him a Christmas present.”

  I cross my arms. “You didn’t put it on my credit card, did you?”

  She gives me the same irritated look that Maxwell did when I left him at Gertie’s. “I paid for it.”

  “Where are you getting so much money all the sudden?”

  Erin blushes again.

  Outside the door of the café, a girl calls her name.

  Erin waves.

  “You were awesome the other night!” the girl yells. “I can’t wait—”

  Erin knocks her soft drink to the floor as she pushes back her chair. Mother and I gasp, but the lid stays on. Erin leaves the cup where it fell and rushes over to the girl.

  Watching the two of them talk, I pick up the cup. Erin keeps glancing over her shoulder at me. “Wonder what that’s all about?”

  “I wonder,” Mother echoes. Something in her tone raises my suspicions that she just might know the answer, but isn’t telling.

  Erin’s face is flushed when she returns to her chair.

  “Who was she?” I ask.

  “A girl from orchestra.”

  “I don’t recognize her.”

  “She, um, plays violin. For some reason, she can’t wait to hear my solo, either.”

  She picks up her fork, and pushes the food around on her plate.

  “Okay, what’s up?”

  “Nothing’s up.” Erin pushes her plate to the center of the table.

  Shifting my gaze, I say, “Mother? Do you know something?”

  “Leave me out of this, Sugar. It’s none of my business.”

  I narrow my eyes. Since when did she start butting out? “So…what were we talking about? Oh, the money for Noah’s gift.”

  “You give me an allowance.” Erin pulls the straw from her drink and starts chewing the end of it.

  “And you always complain that it isn’t enough to get by.”

  “So maybe I’m learning to budget. Just like you said I should.”

  Why am I so tense? She’s old enough to be interested in a boy, to buy him a present. If I don’t lighten up, I’ll push her farther away from me. She’s a normal teenaged girl.

  Which answers my question of why I’m so tense.

  Counting to ten, I relax my shoulders. “Well, that’s good that you’re budgeting. So, what did you get him?”

  “I’d rather not say.” She tosses the straw on her plate.

  I can’t help it; I scowl at her, make a noise of frustration.

  Erin scowls right back at me. “You’ll find out soon enough. I’d just rather Noah see it first, if it’s okay with you.”

  And even if it isn’t okay with me, her tone of voice implies.

  “I wish you could come to the Parkview Christmas Pageant this evening and hear Oliver sing,” Mother says. I know her well enough to recognize that she’s trying to ease the tension by changing the subject.

  “I wish I could too, Mother, but if Sue Kiley or any of the others suing me are there, it would be too awkward.”

  “I doubt they’ll attend. I’m sure they feel the same way.”

  Erin looks at me slit-eyed, then shifts and smiles at her grandmother. “I’ll be there, Nana.”

  Mother pats her hand. “That’s sweet of you, Erin.”

  “Noah’s going, too. He’s taking me.”

  “Not on that cycle, he isn’t.” My shoulders tense up again. I push back my chair, gather the packages.

  “Whatever. We’ll take my car.”

  I stand. “I’ve had enough shopping for today. Let’s go home. I need to call a plumber to come fix the disposal.”

  “Oliver said he’d fix it,” Mother says as we start off in the direction of the mall’s parking garage. “The leaky bathroom faucet, too.” Without missing a beat, she changes the subject again. “If the two of you don’t mind, I was considering inviting him to spend Christmas with us. Since Jack and Lydia and the kids will be here I’d like them to meet him.”

  My stomach dips. She wants the rest of the family to meet him? Not a good sign. I stop walking so abruptly that Erin and Mother almost run into me. People swarm around us. “Aren’t you moving a little fast? Daddy’s barely been gone a year.”

  Mother looks stricken, and I want to kick myself. Still, now that I’ve started, I can’t seem to stop. “Where are his kids? Doesn’t he want to spend the holiday with them?”

  “His daughter lives in Colorado. She’s an animal rights activist and a vegan. His son is a cattle rancher up in the Panhandle. As you might guess, they don’t see eye-to-eye. The two haven’t spoken in years. They rarely spend holidays with Oliver for fear the other will show up and make a scene.”

  “Sounds like a lovely family.” One I have no desire to make part of mine.

  “I like Oliver,” Erin says. “I think we should invite him.”

  They stare at me. Mother’s eyes look hopeful, Erin’s, rebellious. I’m outnumbered. “Whatever you want to do. The more the merrier, right Mother?”

  Ho, ho, ho.

  The Parkview pageant starts at six. Oliver picks Mother up early so they can practice. He tells her she’s “as pretty as a Christmas package,” then looks at her as if he’d like to unwrap her.

  Just a friend? My foot. She’s only fooling herself.

  At five-twenty, Noah arrives on his cycle. Erin suggests they take her car, then rolls her eyes toward me. He acts as if he thinks the car is a good idea, which only irritates me more. I know an Eddie Haskell clone when I see on
e. Why can’t he be difficult so Erin would understand why I don’t trust him?

  By five forty-five, I’m alone. Again. No Mother, no Erin, no Max. This isn’t exactly the new beginning I envisioned when I received the divorce papers.

  It’s already dark out. I call every one of the Margarita Martyrs but only get machines. My friends have probably given up on me. I’ve been so preoccupied with work, Mother, Erin and now the lawsuit, that I haven’t been in touch in a while.

  I slip into my flannel pajama pants and a long-sleeved T-shirt, put a pair of wool socks on my feet. In the refrigerator I find leftover pasta salad, ham for sandwiches, nothing that appeals to me. I close the door and open the freezer. No more frozen dinners since Mom moved in. I reach for the carton of ice cream.

  Out of nowhere, a vision of Nate Colby flashes before me. Amused blue eyes, one-sided smile, lazy drawl asking, Finally hungry, ma’am? Or just using fat and sugar as a substitute for the good ol’ roll in the hay you really need?

  Heat slaps my cheeks. I draw back my hand. Stupid of me to be irritated at the man. He’s not even here. I only imagined him. It’s me I should be mad at, for letting him get to me. Grabbing the carton, then a spoon from the drawer, I head for the den and my movie video collection.

  Fifteen minutes into Chocolat and a quarter of the way through the carton of chocolate praline pecan, guilt gets the best of me. I should be at the pageant. When did I turn into such a wimp? I don’t want to face any of the people who filed suit on me, but why should I hide? They’re the ones being foolish, the ones who should lay low, not me. I’m supposed to be spending more time with Mother. And, honestly, I’d like to hear her on the piano accompanying Oliver’s solo. And do I really want to miss The Frans’ tap dance to “Jingle Bell Rock”? Jane Binkley’s bell solo? Don Knotts as a reindeer, or Frank as Mr. Claus with Doris as his missus?

  Tonight will probably be my last chance to see all the members of the reading group together. Unless, of course, the Parkview case goes to trial and they show up. Frank and Doris are moving out after the first of the year, thanks to their children. Frank’s moving in with his daughter. Doris will lease an apartment at a new facility in Fort Worth, closer to her son. A few of the others are being forced to leave, too. And all because of a romance novel.

  I sigh. No, not because of the novel; because of their kids’ attitudes, their expectations about how people their age should behave.

  I’ll miss them. All of them. They’ve grown on me, become my friends. Something I never counted on when I started the reading group. Truth is, I considered them more of an imposition, a duty, than anything else.

  Nathan Colby’s question to me about Mother plays through my mind. I dig the spoon deeper into the carton, scooping out another bite of creamy, gooey comfort and denial.

  I’m a therapist. I recognize my own shortcomings. Sure, I’d like to ignore or deny them, but right now I can’t. When it comes to my mother and Oliver, my attitude and expectations are no different than those of the people suing me. I admit it. I also admit that their interest in one another is normal, natural, even healthy.

  But she’s my mother.

  I allow myself one last bite. Dad could be a real pain in the butt sometimes, but I miss him. I want Mother to miss him, too. She was his yellow rose of Texas. The love of his life. He’s not here to stand up for himself. Maybe that’s why I feel that’s my job now. Silly, I know.

  Placing the lid on the carton, I check my watch. I’m missing the dinner, but the entertainment doesn’t start until seven. If I hurry, I can make it.

  Luckily I haven’t taken off my makeup yet. I put on the black pantsuit I wished I’d worn to the law office, run a brush through my hair, grab a coat and head for the door.

  Before I reach it, the phone rings.

  “Ms. Dupree, it’s Sally Coker.”

  “Oh, hi, Mrs. Coker.” It’s been a couple of days since we last talked. “Is Maxwell okay?”

  “He—” She titters. “This is embarrassing, just a minute.”

  I hear muffled talking, like she has her hand over the mouthpiece, then, “This is Rod Coker.” Gruff. Annoyed. “We’re through with your dog. He can’t get it up.”

  “Oh, I—”

  “Or won’t. I don’t think he’s interested.”

  “Maybe he—”

  “Face it, lady. If your dog wore clothes, he’d be prancing around in purple sequins.”

  CHAPTER 15

  To: Erin@friendmail.com

  From: Noah@friendmail.com

  Date: 12/18 Tuesday

  Subject: news and other stuff

  My Dearest Erin Elizabeth Dupree,

  (i started out that way because it sounds more romantic.) i got the pics developed that i took at your grandmother’s Christmas pageant and at your concert. there’s this one, and when i saw it, it was love at first sight. she has long brown hair, big brown eyes, a killer bod. you just wouldn’t believe her. who would guess I’d fall in love with someone in the parlor of an old folks’ home?

  i finished my last final today. it went all right, i’m just glad to be done. when i got home a few minutes ago, there was a letter in the mail for me from Montana State University. they’re giving me a scholarship if i transfer there in the fall. have I told you about that school? i visited last summer and it’s awesome. you probably wouldn’t think a state like Montana would have a great film school, but they do. a lot of celebrities have vacation homes around there. I heard Peter Fonda is an adjunct professor, or was at one time. anyway, they’ve filmed some great movies around there, too, like A River Runs Through It.

  now for what I really want to say. the thing is, Erin, i’m excited and i’m not. i mean, this is my dream, but I don’t want to leave you. MSU is something like almost 2000 miles from here. i’ll miss you so much. but, I don’t want to talk about this in an e-mail. i just wanted to tell you first, even before my parents. and the truth is, I was afraid to look in your eyes and say it in person.

  change of subject. i wish you’d tell your mom about the band. you have to play with us at the beat on new year’s eve, even if the gig isn’t over until 3:00 a.m. we’re only half-ass without you. Tonto and Reese feel the same. the crowd thinks you rock and so do we. but that’s not the only reason i wish you’d tell your mom. i’m just afraid you’re gonna get caught and then things will be really bad for you with her. and she’ll like me even less. i’ll talk to her with you. i’ll tell her how i’d never let anything happen to you, that i don’t let you out of my sight when we’re at the club, and that i never would. if anything bad happened to you, i’d die.

  call me after you eat dinner tonight, and i’ll come bye. later, love noah

  (p.s. don’t worry—the girl in the picture was you, not that old lady who played the elf!)

  I stare at the screen, too numb to move. Why? That’s what I want to know. Why does life hand you something good, let it become important, then snatch it away?

  A little zing of music announces an instant message. Suz’s ID pops up on the screen.

  Suzicue: you there?

  Pinkflipflop: just got on.

  Suzicue: what u doin?

  Pinkflipflop: crying. noah e-mailed. said he fell in love with me at nana’s pageant.

  Suzicue: that’s so sweet! why r u crying?

  Pinkflipflop: he got a scholarship to msu. montana

  Suzicue: ohmigod!

  Pinkflipflop: yeah. he’ll find someone else.

  Suzicue: no worries. montana girls don’t shave their legs or pits. they have to be hairy to stay warm.

  Pinkflipflop: hahaha. now I’m laughing and crying.

  Suzicue: they all have ugly toenails.

  can’t reach to paint em cuz of bulky fur parkas.

  Pinkflipflop: whatever!

  Suzicue: have the lowest teenage pregnancy rate in nation. guys don’t want to do it in back seat of car for fear they’ll freeze off u know whats.

  Pinkflipflop: stop! stomach hurts!


  Suzicue: k. i’ll stop if u stop crying. he won’t last a semester he’ll miss you so much

  Pinkflipflop: it’s wrong for me to hope that. should be happy for him.

  Suzicue: maybe you should go to msu 2.

  Pinkflipflop: ha! mom won’t let me move across town.

  Suzicue: can’t imagine u with hairy pits anyway.

  Pinkflipflop: i should just break up with him.

  Suzicue: wow, you’d do that?

  Pinkflipflop: it’ll be easier to get it over with.

  Suzicue: maybe. so what about the band?

  Pinkflipflop: don’t know. guess i’ll have to quit.

  Suzicue: not before new year’s! u have to play.

  Pinkflipflop: beat wants us too late. noah says come clean with mom. she’ll never go for it. don’t know how I lasted this long.

  Suzicue: spend night at my house on new year’s.

  Pinkflipflop: what if she calls your mom?

  Suzicue: parents will be at party till wee hours.

  Pinkflipflop: what if she calls and nobody answers?

  Suzicue: we’ll think of something. cateye should dress retro with u in body paint and outfit we bought including katie’s fake ta-tas. think of them as part of costume.

  Pinkflipflop: whatever.

  Somehow or another, Suz got the idea that she’s the band’s manager. We all play along. It makes her happy.

  Suzicue: i’ll do your makeup and hair. it’ll be fun.

  I seriously doubt it. Nothing sounds fun anymore. Makeup, hair and ta-tas are the least of my worries. Who cares? After New Year’s Eve, I won’t have Noah anymore. Nothing else matters.

  Pinkflipflop: gotta feed max.

  Suzicue: thought he was away making puppies?

  Pinkflipflop: he couldn’t do it.

  Suzicue: do what?

  Pinkflipflop: you know, IT.

  Suzicue: shut up!

  Pinkflipflop: seriously. dad cracked up when i told. said max is light in the loafers.

  Suzicue: omigod! hehehehe. light on his paws u mean.

  Pinkflipflop: hahaha. mom took max to vet.

  he’s depressed not gay. mom thinks he’s upset about family stuff. u know dad leaving, nana moving in.

  Suzicue: your mom’s a therapist, can’t she help him?