“That’s a fantastic idea,” Elise chimed in, wondering what she had done to piss her mother off. She thought she was doing everyone a favor by picking up Jeffrey.
Jeffrey ran ahead of them, and her father trailed behind with the yo-yo. “Just so you know,” her mother said under her breath. “I heard that young man this morning. And don’t think for a minute I’m going to believe you had a friend over for breakfast at seven a.m. I hope you’re not acting like a harlot, Elise. Girls who act like harlots never get married.” And with that she sped up behind Jeffrey and her father.
“But—” She wanted to explain that nothing happened. They’d just kissed. She didn’t even like him. But there was no use. Her mother would never understand. The only thing that could be worse at this point was Max finding out that Billy had slept in her bed.
Elise had imagined her sister to be like Melanie Wilkes during the birthing scene in Gone with the Wind, pale, drained of every last ounce of energy, the dark circles under her eyes indicating hours of excruciating pain. She was very relieved when she found Melissa lying in a hospital bed wearing her pink terry cloth robe, sucking on a Popsicle, and watching the Today show. Her feet were propped on two pillows, and every strand of hair was coiffed and fashioned like the fabulous mother she was. “They just gave me an epidural,” she said as Jeffrey ran toward her bedside.
“You look great,” Elise said. She was really glad to see that her sister wasn’t suffering.
“Thanks so much for taking Jeffrey. It would just be such a long day for him here.”
“Uppy,” Jeffrey begged from her bedside as he offered his arms to her. “Uppy! Uppyyyyy! Upppppyyyyy!”
“I’m sorry, sweetie,” Melissa said. “You can’t come up here. Mommy is going to have your little sister and has to stay in bed, and there just isn’t room for you right now.”
He looked at her as if she were speaking Latin. “Uppy.”
“Maybe we should be on our way,” Elise said.
“Great,” Brice quickly led them to the door. “Let me get my car seat out of the minivan for you. You know, even better yet, why don’t you just take the minivan. I’m not leaving anytime soon, and you can just bring him back this evening. Grandma and Grandpa said they would take him home tonight.”
“Why don’t you bring him back around five?” Marge chimed in. “We’ll take him to dinner and then home for a bath.”
“Okay.”
Brice gave her the keys to the minivan and a gigantic diaper bag. “There’s also sunscreen in there,” he said.
“Oh, yes,” Melissa called. “Make sure he wears sunscreen. Call us on Brice’s cell phone if you need anything!”
The first five minutes of the drive consisted mostly of Jeffrey kicking the back of her seat and asking to listen to music. She flipped on the radio, falsely believing this would satisfy him.
“Noooo,” he whined. “Music.”
“What kind of music?”
“Music.”
“Rock music? Folk music? Country?”
“Music.”
She had no idea what he was talking about and nearly smashed the van into the guardrail on Interstate 5 trying to figure it out. “Is it on a CD?” she asked, fumbling with the glove box while avoiding swerving into the lane next to her.
“I WANT TO HEAR MUSIC, AUNT E-LISE.” It was the first time he had ever pronounced her name correctly, and he said it with such conviction that he sounded as if he were telling her off. Then he kicked the back of her seat.
“All right. All right. Please just stop kicking,” she pleaded. She pulled off the freeway two stops before her exit and dialed Brice’s number.
While waiting for him to answer she could feel her back vibrating with each thrust of his foot. She imagined Brice applying cold compresses to her sister’s sweaty forehead while a nurse encouraged her to push.
“Brice!” she exclaimed with a load of relief in her voice.
“How’s everything going, Elise?”
What was she supposed to say? Terrible. Your child may be the next member of the Trench Coat Mafia. Could I actually bring Jeffrey back at nine? This morning? She didn’t want to hurt their feelings or be a bad aunt. She really wanted to like the kid. She did. And certainly there had to be redeeming qualities about him. Otherwise they wouldn’t be bringing another one into the world. “Oh, things are going just fine. I had one quick question though. I know it seems trivial, but he keeps asking to hear music, and I’m very sorry to bother you about this but—”
“MUSIC NOW!”
“Ah yes,” Brice said calmly. “It’s that song by Madonna.”
“ ‘Music,’ ” Melissa called from the background. “Tell her it’s in the CD case in my glove box.”
“MUSIC! MUSIC! MUUUUUSIC!”
“The song is called ‘Music,’ and it’s—”
“In the glove box.” Elise finished for him.
She opened the glove box, praying the whole time this Madonna CD was in there. She found the CD. Upon putting it in the stereo Jeffrey immediately began to bounce up and down in his car seat. “Music makes the people come together,” he sang.
Never in a million years had she thought she’d be driving a minivan into Mission Beach with a two-year-old Madonna fan in the backseat, singing at the top of his lungs to one of the biggest clubbing songs in history.
“Again!” he demanded as he threw his fist in the air. She had no qualms about playing the song again. She could’ve driven around all day watching him from the rearview mirror.
He reminded her of a South American dictator, only he was two and riding in a car seat. “Hey Jeffrey. What’d ya say we go shopping on Melrose today?” she asked. “It’s about two and half hours away, and I could really use some time away.”
“Hey Mr. DJ,” he sang, throwing his neck back.
“Perfect!” She didn’t have to worry about him drowning, and she’d escape watching Barney or those queers from The Wiggles. “But first, let’s head to McDonald’s. I’m starving.”
By the time they had reached McDonald’s they had listened to “Music” five times, and she really started to think that if she heard that opening riff again she might have to throw the CD out the window. She tried playing some other hits from the CD, but they were received with a jarring kick in the ribs and a demand to hear “Music.” It was amusing until tears began to spring from his eyes and his voice became staggered.
“All right. Okay. We’ll just keep it on your song,” she said, calling off any plans for a long drive. “Guess what? I bought you a Happy Meal.”
He bounced up and down. “Want Happy Meal now?”
“Let’s wait till we get home.”
“No. Now.”
She started “Music” over again, and they headed back to her apartment.
Thankfully, no partygoers had passed out on their couches, but the place was in shambles. Beer cans and cocktail glasses littered every corner of their living room. The limp lei of socks was draped over the television set, and she found herself asking what kind of babysitter she was.
After eating their McDonald’s Jeffrey threw on a cowboy hat from the night before and began to jump from foot to foot asking loudly to head to the beach. Iris and Megan were still sleeping, and she thought this might be a good idea. She didn’t want to wake them up. It was still early and the air was crisp outside, so maybe she could even talk him out of going into the water. They could build sand castles and dig for shells along the shore.
“All right. We can go to the beach, but first we have to put sunscreen on,” she said, dreading his response. She expected him to react the same way he had the last time she had changed his diaper. Kicking, screaming, and basically resisting the whole effort.
However, he hopped from the couch and said in a singsong tone, “Okay, Aunt Lise. Put sunscreen on.” She resisted an urge to jump up and applaud. Rather, she quickly reached in the bag Brice had given her and pulled the tube out before Stalin-like Jeffrey returned and refuse
d to protect his skin. She took off his little T-shirt and helped him slide into his swim trunks. His pudgy tummy was as pale as a jellyfish and protruded from the edge of his swim trunks, but he looked absolutely adorable. He really was a cute kid.
She squeezed some sunblock on her finger, and he held out his hand. “Let me put on, too, Aunt Lise!”
“Okay, great. Thanks so much for helping,” she said as she squeezed a generous dollop of lotion onto his tiny little fingers.
They were finally connecting. She was so glad and excited, mostly to know that the bloodline of Satan didn’t run in her family, but also to know that it was possible for them to get along. She moved quickly, afraid that this opportunity to click might suddenly turn volatile.
He didn’t even protest when she rubbed lotion all over his face. In fact, he told her not to miss any spots as he eagerly spread SPF all over his chin, neck, and shoulders. She helped him rub it on his arms and tummy, and he smiled at her. She reached for the tube to apply more to his back. She was squeezing lotion onto Jeffrey’s palm when she noticed something so alarming that she witnessed the hair rise on her arm. The tube she held in her hand was not the pink and blue Johnson & Johnson SPF for kids she’d seen in the bag earlier. Rather, it was a pink and blue look-alike tube of Johnson & Johnson diaper rash ointment. Dear God, she’d rubbed butt cream all over him.
“More, Aunt Lise, Jeffrey want more sunscreen.” He thrust a wiggling set of fingers toward the bottle and began to squeal.
“Actually, Jeffrey. There has been a slight change of plans. Guess what we’re going to do?”
He looked at her suspiciously. “Have condy?”
“We’re going to apply sunscreen twice!”
“No,” he whined. “Go to beach.”
“We are going to the beach!” she said enthusiastically. “But in order to get there, you have to first take a shower. Then we’ll apply sunscreen again! And you can rub most of it on!”
“Nooooo! Jeffrey no take shower!” His voice was so piercing she thought the television might crack.
“We’re going to take a special kind of shower. We’re just going to wash your face and chest and arms. You don’t even have to take your swimsuit off. It will be just like going to the beach, only there will be no sand.”
“No.”
She tried to pick him up, and he pushed his hands toward her. “Nooooooo.” His voice became staggered, and she sensed tears approaching the same way animals can detect natural disasters before they strike. She frantically began searching the kitchen cupboards for a bribe. Microwaved popcorn? Could she bribe him with that? “Hey Jeffrey. Look what I have.” She held up a box of Smart Pop as if it were a gigantic box of grape-flavored Nerds.
“No.” He held a hand toward her.
Finally she found one mint wrapped in cellophane. It was the kind of treat that was offered in bowls on hostess stands at restaurants. For all she knew that mint could’ve been sitting in there since two summers ago. But she tried not to think about that.
“Look what I found.” She waved the candy in front of Jeffrey, and he became calm and quiet, the same way Bella did when presented with the opportunity for a treat. She had an urge to tell him to sit—lie down. However, his hand lunged toward her, and she snapped the treat back. “You can have this if you let Aunt Lise wash the diap—I mean sunblock—off you.”
“Okay!”
They ended up at the kitchen sink, Jeffrey squirming in her arms as she tried to splash water onto his torso. She was rubbing his face with a damp paper towel when he screamed, “My mouth is on fire!” He spat the candy from his mouth and it whizzed across the room like a meteor before hitting the cabinet and remaining stuck to a white cupboard door.
“Hu, hu, hu,” he panted. “Mouth on fire. Condy hot.”
She quickly got him a glass of water and prayed he had a horrible long-term memory. Hopefully, he wouldn’t tell his parents about any of this. She figured it was fine to give the boy peppermint. When she offered him the treat he seemed to be a candy connoisseur and very acquainted with mints.
Before they left she searched for things they could use to dig in the sand with. She found a bucket with an unused mop and a layer of thick dust on it in the hall closet. She wasn’t surprised in the least that it looked as if it had never once been used. Then she took a stack of leftover plastic cups from Iris and Megan’s last keg party.
They left the apartment and headed down Mission Boulevard. “Jeffrey, let’s hold hands,” she said as several cars whizzed past them.
“No!” He folded his pudgy arms over his chest.
“Listen, I’ll show you something really neat at the beach if you hold my hand.”
He moved a few steps away from her.
“Jeffrey, give me your hand.” She was getting impatient, and she didn’t trust him. She sensed if she didn’t hold on to him, he might run into the street or play chicken on the roller coaster tracks.
She pried his arms from his chest and held on to his wrist the rest of the way to the beach.
They finally arrived at the beach and, naturally, he wanted to go in the water. Distractions, she thought. It’s all about distracting him—diverting his attention to something else. “Let’s build a sand castle!”
“Okay, Aunt Lise. Let’s build castle.”
She pulled plastic cups from the bucket, and they began to dig. Perhaps she would become closer to him by the end of the day. They seemed to be hitting it off with the sand castle plans, and she had visions of them building a four-story mansion with pillars and French windows. They’d be the envy of every little castle-builder up the south Mission coast. As she dug and began to shape her sand into the frame of the castle, she imagined passersby stopping to admire their creation, tourists even asking for a photo with the grainy palace. Jeffrey would love this day and always want to come to the beach with Aunt Lise. He’d now prefer her over Stan, and she’d be his favorite relative.
She was making a pile for one of the pillars when Jeffrey dropped his cup and swung his head toward her. “You! Dig over there.” He pointed the smallest index finger she had ever seen to a pile of stinky seaweed with fifty million sea flies hovering over its slimy strands.
“How ’bout I just move a little bit to the side,” she suggested, trying to save herself from becoming an outcast in the kingdom of Jeffrey the First.
“Nooooo. Don’t dig near me. Go way Aunt E-lise.”
“But Jeffr—”
“Goooooo!”
“We’re going to build the biggest castle on the beach, and it will be the best, and I’m going—”
“You no dig with me. This is my sand castle. My sand castle!” He could’ve been the mayor of a Columbian town, the way he threw his fist in the air.
“All right. Fine.” She put down her cup and retired from building. As she sat in the sand she tried not to think about Max. Jeffrey stopped digging, flashed her a look of death, and firmly said, “Stop singing.”
She couldn’t sing. She couldn’t dig. All she could do was sit and rot in the sand. She began to run her fingers through the wet sand near her toes, and she found a sand crab. She instantly grabbed a cup and captured the little critter. This had to win her nephew over. Kids loved animals. “Hey, look at this, Jeffrey. Look what I have in my cup.”
He peered over the edge of her cup, and she showed him the little beige-colored sand crab she’d found. It moved around like a spider inside the cup, and Jeffrey was absolutely fascinated. “Find more,” he said as he began digging in the sand.
After they had collected a dozen crabs they put them into their bucket with a load of sand and some water. “Me take home,” he said.
“Actually, we should let them go so they can be with their mommies.”
“Me take home! Mine.”
Elise could see her returning Jeffrey to the hospital. “Oh. Before I forget. Here is his diaper bag and a bucket full of sand crabs.”
“But this is their home. They need the salt and th
e sand and . . . and their food. Just like you need Happy Meals and all your toys.”
“But I waaaant theeeem.”
“They’ll be much happier here. Think if someone took you from your bed and away from your mommy and all your toys and your favorite things to eat.”
He looked at her as if she were speaking a foreign language. “Me take crabs home.”
Distractions. “Let’s go put our feet in the water.”
The only place he put his foot was down. “No. Jeffrey dig for more sancabs.”
She tried every kind of bribe she could think of, renting movies, buying “condy.” Everything. But he wouldn’t have it, and when he started screaming and people stared as if she were hurting the child, she finally caved. “All right. All right. You can take the sand crabs back to my apartment, but you can’t take them to your house.”
He’d won.
When they returned to her apartment it was around lunchtime. Iris and Megan were sitting on the couch watching reruns of Amish in the City. It was an episode Elise had now seen three times with them, which meant they had probably seen it a dozen.
“Well, who is this?” Megan asked in a playful tone.
“This is my nephew, Jeffrey. My sister is in labor, and I’m watching him.”
“Oh,” Iris said, not very impressed by the child. “What’s in the bucket?”
“Sand crabs. He insisted on bringing them back from the beach, so I’m going to put them on the balcony.”
“Her is sad,” Jeffrey said, pointing to the screen as an Amish girl cried.
Elise made him a snack of cheese, crackers, and an apple slice before they went into her bedroom to see what they could find on the Disney Channel.
Her mother called to tell her that Melissa had given birth to seven-pound Cassidy Renee, who looked just like Jeffrey. “You can bring him back to the hospital in an hour or so if you’d like. Brice and Melissa are tired, so we’ll probably take Jeffrey and go home soon.”
Since she was having a hard time keeping her eyes open in front of Barney, she decided that might be a good idea. She hung up with her mother and told Jeffrey the exciting news. He seemed oblivious as he chewed on a piece of cheddar cheese.
Roommates Page 29
