by EJ Valson
“How about lunch, love?”
“Oh I’m starving Mom! You know, I’ve been flying for forty years and . . .”
“Yes I know, what would you like?” I asked more specifically.
“Shrimp.”
“Something we have in the house, Vy.”
“Ham and cheese,” she countered.
“Deal.”
I set her down on the counter and made us both grilled ham and cheese sandwiches. We sat down at the dining room table, which was actually cleared off for once since I’d had a fit of energy the other day, and took part in my favorite activity— talking to each other.
“Did you have fun with Auntie Kate?” I asked, nearly burning my mouth with the cheese. Mine was the second sandwich to come off the stove and I was famished enough to eat it even though it was scalding my mouth.
“Duh,” she answered.
I rolled my eyes. Sometimes her sass irritated me, and sometimes I thought it was cute. It was tolerable for the moment, because I was enjoying the sound of her voice.
“We played fairy for a long time, but before that Auntie made me play makeover.”
Even though Vy loves everything princessy, she absolutely loathes having her hair brushed, toenails painted, or makeup applied. Coincidentally, that’s Kate’s idea of a fun game.
I looked at her hands for the first time, wrapped around the sandwich half, and sure enough— her nails were coated in sparkles. She was swinging her legs under the table and picking at her bread while she chewed.
“How was your morning, mom?”
She was often so grown up it made me want to cry. It was not uncommon for her to ask me about my day, and to be sincerely interested in my reply.
“It was, mmmm, weird.” That was the truth.
“Ooh, weird—cool! Why was it weird?”
“Oh, Mommy just met some very interesting people this morning,” I answered.
“Okay.” Apparently that was enough for her, and she went back to swinging her feet.
“Where would you like to go for dinner tonight with Auntie and Uncle?” I knew the response to this question.
“Pizza Palace!” she squeaked, already planning out how to spend her game tokens.
Pizza Palace was her absolute favorite restaurant in town. John and I usually took her there when we came in to see family, and it was always the highlight of the trip for her. It was the standard kid’s pizza place with games, rides, and mediocre food. Reasonably priced and ridiculously over-stimulating.
“That would be fun, but I think Auntie wants to go someplace a little fancier,” I said. “Someplace we can get dressed up for, and maybe show off those pretty nails.”
“Ugh, okay,” was her unenthused reply.
Through the window of the kitchen door, I saw Elizabeth’s SUV pull into her driveway. Three scrawny kids jumped out, all boys, and ran into the house. I guessed they were her boys, I’d never seen them before. They must have been getting back from summer camp. Elizabeth walked out to check the mail then parked the car in the garage. I set my attention back to Vy, and we finished our lunch.
The rest of the day went on as normal, mostly tidying up around the house so we could go out to dinner without coming home to a mess. Violet had busied herself with finger-painting at the kitchen table while I cleaned the counters and washed our lunch dishes. We had the most relaxing afternoon waiting for Daddy to get home, which he did, around six. We were going through Violet’s baby scrapbooks together in the living room, as well as some of my childhood photo albums, when John walked through the door.
“Get ready for dinner with your sister,” I hollered when I heard his keys drop onto the counter. The door shut, and in a few seconds he was stooping down to kiss me on the head.
“Hi to you, too.”
I grinned in his direction as Violet and I turned another tattered page. “And this is me on my first day of kindergarten. Cool clothes, huh?”
“I like them,” Violet said honestly.
“Grandma made them,” I told her, realizing I had never mentioned to her that my mom knew how to sew.
“She made them?” Violet exclaimed, clearly impressed. “I want her to make all my school clothes too!” That would make my mom happy, though I doubted she would want to sew clothes now. She would probably rather just take Vy shopping.
“We’ll ask her if she can dig out her old sewing machine sometime, okay?” I assured her as I closed the scrapbook we were going through. “Go to the bathroom before we leave, please. I’ll pick these up.”
“I don’t have to— ˝
“Go.” I delivered the look and extended my arm and first finger to make a long, deliberate arrow toward the bathroom. She stomped off toward the bathroom with her arms crossed high on her chest in defeat.
I gathered up our childhood memories and stacked them neatly on the fireplace. There was no need to put them away yet, I would soon have more pictures to pour into them.
The phone rang shrilly as I snuck one last peek into Vy’s baby book. The front page was covered in pictures of rattles and hearts with a cheesy border. In the middle, I had carefully taped a picture of the first time John had gotten to hold her in the hospital. She looked so tiny and breakable in his strong arms – but my favorite part of this picture was actually John. His translucent, sapphire eyes were misty from pride, love, and thoughts of the unknown.
My throat tightened involuntarily and I felt the threatening pressure behind my eyes. I closed the book quickly and smiled, rather than let the tears flow. I would let them come in a few days, when I snapped that picture next to the flag pole.
Just then, I felt a pair of hands on my waist, rubbing gently up and down in a comforting way.
“We’re ready if you are,” John’s warm baritone voice informed me. I blinked a couple of times to make sure the tears were subdued and walked into the kitchen.
“Kate just called,” he said. I looked up to meet his eyes. His expression was quite easy to read; it was saying Please don’t ask.
“Where,” I demanded, my shoulders dropping.
“Première.”
If my organs and hair follicles could have moaned in unison, they would have. Première was the nicest (and yes, I mean fanciest) French restaurant in town. It was already almost six fifteen; we would have to wait for hours just to get in...
“She made reservations right after she left our house this afternoon,” he said, the corners of his mouth pulling up as he stifled a grin. “So you couldn’t say no.” John was actually delighted, now, in my disgust.
So much for enjoying the evening, I thought. I’d be redoing the grocery budget for a month to make up for this.
“And dinner’s on Nick,” he added, as if he was reading my mind.
Although that made me feel a little better, I was still too pouty to consider enjoying the evening just yet. I wanted to detest the fru-fru-iness that was about to ensue.
“Go put Vy in the car, honey, I’ll be right there,” I directed.
John kissed my forehead and scooped up Violet, who had just appeared in the room. “It’ll be fun,” he assured me with a devilish grin.
I did a quick motherly sweep of the kitchen to prepare for our outing. I poured some dry cereal into a baggie to avoid a hunger meltdown, and grabbed a notepad and pens to avoid a boredom meltdown. I imagined the wait between courses would be unbearably long for a five-year-old, so I crammed the “save the day items” into my giant purse and joined my family in the car.
“I’m not really dressed for this, you know,” I mumbled, staring out the window.
“Nonsense, you look beaut— ˝
“Beautiful, I know. I love you.”
It was several miles before I realized that we weren’t headed in the direction of the restaurant. In fact, we hadn’t even gotten on the highway yet. I shot my husband a look of question and, like he was in tune with the moment, he was smirking. Not wanting to give him the satisfaction of asking what he was up to, because he
was obviously up to something, I turned back to the window and rested my chin on my hand. We certainly weren’t lost. John is never lost...quite the opposite of myself...so I decided to just enjoy the ride.
I watched as the little rows of houses passed us by, listening to Violet tell her daddy about playing fairy princess with Kate.
“She didn’t paint your nails, did she?” He asked with a fake grimace.
“Yesss,” she grumped. “But Mommy will take it off before school.”
I grinned, still facing the window. I was enjoying being a third party in the conversation, listening to the two of them banter back and forth. I glanced at the clock – six twenty five. I looked back at the passing houses, and suddenly two things fell into place: where we were and what we were doing.
We had jumped over several neighborhoods and were now in the area with older homes. Homes that looked like they belonged on postcards or in lawn tool commercials. It was my mother-in-law’s neighborhood, and we were here to drop Violet off for an evening visit. My heart jumped a little, and relaxed at the same time.
“Surprise,” John murmured. He knew I loved surprises, no matter how big or small.
“Your doing?” I asked.
“Kate’s. She called on my way home from work. Told me to act surprised when you mentioned dinner, and to drop Vy off at six thirty.” He pulled into his mother’s flower-lined driveway. “She didn’t tell me where we were going until I got home. She probably figured I would let it slip.”
Mary, John’s mother, came out to greet us. She was a petite, slender little woman, and always dressed like she was going on vacation somewhere. She was absolutely the best mother-in-law anyone could hope for. Whenever she knew we were coming, she would always be waiting at the door. As soon as we pulled up, she was bustling down the sidewalk to help us inside.
Now, “helping us inside” usually meant getting Violet unbuckled and into the house, and she generally had that accomplished before John had the engine shut off.
Grandmother and granddaughter scurried excitedly inside. By the time John and I had reached the front door, they were already looking for something to busy themselves with. It didn’t take long for Violet and Mary to find a puzzle to work, and they scooted us right back out the door.
“Shoo! You don’t want to be late,” she ordered.
John slipped his hand into mine and we strolled back down the walkway. He was so easily loveable. Every time he touched me, especially small ways like this, it was as if love had a flavor – and I could taste it. I breathed it in, and always felt a mixture of comfort, warmth, and security...he was home for me. And I felt so blessed to have him.
He walked me around the car and cradled the small of my back while he opened the door for me, making me feel warm and fuzzy. He was the epitome of chivalry, and always made me feel this way – like I was all dolled up and going to the prom. My handsome date circled the car and plopped into the driver’s seat, taking my other hand in his and staring at me pensively.
“Kate and I agreed that we should celebrate with a bang tonight, and enjoy the evening together.” He cradled my face in his palm and I felt like a school girl. “I’m so proud of you for trying your hand as a working woman.”
The intensity in his face caught me off guard. I was still blushing from his hand on my cheek and hadn’t expected a subject change.
“I know you’re nervous,” he said. “And excited. And you probably feel like you
can’t do anything as well as being a mom . . . but you’re amazing and likable. And I know you will be fantastic.”
Was he hiding a greeting card in his pocket?
“Uhhhh… yes,” I agreed. “But you forgot the part where I don’t think anyone can take care of Vy like I can.” I definitely was not looking forward to sharing her for seven hours every week day.
“And you’re absolutely right,” John added. “No one can teach her as well as you can. But she’ll have a blast and so will you. Then you two can come home and tell each other about your day.”
“Who are you?”
“Huh?” He looked confused.
“Nothing. I’m just lucky to have you as my best friend,” I smiled. He winked at me, kissed my hand in his, and put the car in reverse.
“Let’s go celebrate,” he declared, looking over his shoulder.
The parking lot of the restaurant was, expectedly, beyond capacity. It was seven o’clock and prime time for silly people who thought they would come here on a whim. They would be the ones waiting for hours tonight to get in.
John weaseled his way up to the front door to let me out of the car.
“I don’t think so,” I stated plainly. “I’m walking with you.”
“Alright then,” he mused. And with that, we were off to find a parking place somewhere ridiculously far away. As we swung into a lucky spot, I noticed a familiar champagne SUV a few spaces away. Elizabeth’s car.
Seriously?
Once we were inside, I immediately scoped the place for the cheating PTO mom. It would be easy to be stealthy; I was also conveniently looking for Kate.
“Hey!”
So much for that plan, Kate popped up next to me out of thin air and dragged us to our table. A beautiful linen-covered oasis, filled with prissy stemware and live flowers, was laid out before us. There were two wine glasses at each place and each napkin was folded delicately into a flower.
John pulled the rolling chair out for me and guided me into it by the elbow. I thought for a moment about putting my napkin in my lap right away, but decided to admire it for a while. Someone had worked very hard on it.
I heaved my giant purse up over my lap and onto the floor next to me. This was not an elegant restaurant purse, it was a mommy purse. You could fit a small child in it, and it made me feel a little out of place. I looked around at everyone else who knew they were coming here. They had stuffed their wallets and lipsticks into the tiniest thing they could find that would match their dress.
Hmmm, yes, most of them were wearing dresses. Including Kate; I abhorred her for that. She probably thought that if she asked me to wear a dress, I wouldn’t come. She would have been right.
The waiter came around and I ordered my favorite dish after spotting it on the menu: salmon. I didn’t care how it was prepared, I hadn’t even looked, I knew it would be good. Of course, everything here was probably at least good.
After finally giving up the notion of saving my flower napkin and staring at it forever, I unfolded it and laid it gingerly in my lap. The bread came, and went. It was amazing. So rich and hearty I probably didn’t have to put butter on it, but I did anyway. Any excuse to eat butter on something was okay with me.
An appetizer and a glass of wine later—we were celebrating as adults, after all—and we were all laughing about some work-related joke of Nick’s that I really didn’t understand. And then I spotted them.
At a very distant table, along the opposite wall, sat the Asch’s. Elizabeth, her husband, and her three boys. They were all having a grand time as well, and it looked as though the boys were getting rowdy. I then realized how fortunate I was to be here among adults only. If Violet had come with us, I would have been wrestling with her to stay in her chair, asking her not to roll it into the aisle, and answering a billion questions like “What’s this fork for? And this one?”
