by Anne, Betsy
I’m feeling the need to look like the young, nonmother I am. I take my time getting ready, perk Number One with no kids, since I have no real time schedule, perk Number Two. I luxuriate in the peace and quiet, while I pay close attention to my hair and makeup. I style my hair with loose, sexy curls that reach halfway down my back. I have an abundance of hair, which makes me look like Princess Merida from Brave. I make my green eyes dark and smoky to go with my sexy hair. Skin-tight leather pants and a low-cut shimmery top complete the look. Worlds away from how I looked yesterday morning. I’ll be thrilled to never visit that version of Becca again.
The trains are running smoothly tonight, and I arrive at Mandi’s place in great time. When I reach her door, I hear music thumping, and I have to knock loudly for her to hear.
“Hi! I hope you don’t mind, but I invited a few more people to hang with us,” she says, as I look inside and see four guys and a stunning woman, drinking and swaying in a half-dance to the music. I recognize a couple of them; they’re all models, I’m sure.
“Of course, not! The more the merrier. Where are we going?” I ask as I wave to everyone and grab a glass of wine.
“Well, we thought we could hang here for a little while until the clubs start hopping, around eleven or so.”
Oh God. I feel tired hearing that. My body hasn’t adjusted from the early-to-bed, early-to-rise. I’ll have to dig deep to find the energy, especially after my weekend.
“Great!” I say, trying to sound energetic, but not quite pulling it off.
“Come on, I know you’ve been out of the scene, but you’re young and hot. Let’s party!” As she says that, the other people in the room hold up their glasses and shout.
OK, Bec. You can do this. I raise my glass along with them and down the whole thing in one gulp.
* * *
Oooh…
I wake up in my bed, and feel like I shouldn’t have. I should rightfully be dead, feeling the way I do. A human can’t function like this. My head is swirling, and so is my stomach. I try to stand up, and it takes me a couple of tries before I can properly right myself. My temples are throbbing so hard, I feel like I can count the beat. Last night is fuzzy after we got to the club. I remember doing some shots that the guys in our group took turns buying. Turned out, I did know one of them, I had worked with him in New York. All of them gay, so no interest in working us over. I miss my gay friends, they’re so much fun to hang out with. No pressure or pretense about what they want from you at the end of the night.
Speaking of which, he’s there on my couch. For the life of me, I can’t remember his name. He’s snoring, loudly, and still has some glitter on his face from the club. I walk over and nudge him gently.
“Hello, are you awake?” I ask, trying to be quiet for both our sakes.
He moves a little, and opens one eye which he immediately slams closed.
“Jesus! What time is it?” he asks as he covers his face with the small throw that covers only a portion of his body.
“It’s one. This may sound strange, but what is your name and why are you here?” Screw propriety. When you wake up with a stranger in your house, questions need to be direct.
“I’m Will. I escorted you home because you were in pretty bad shape. I chose the short straw.”
I assume that means he lost. Oh my God, how bad was I?
“I’m sorry you had to do that. I’m so embarrassed. I’ve never needed babysitting before. I’ll pay for a cab for you to get wherever you’re going.” I’m so ashamed. I’m the oldest of the group, and they had to assign someone to make sure I made it home.
“It’s OK, I wanted to. I remembered you from the Embrace campaign. I did a couple of shoots with you. I live in Evanston, so I was the closest. Trust me, no need to apologize, I had a blast with you last night,” he says, rubbing his eyes and sitting up straight.
“Dare I ask, what that means?” I don’t think I want the answer.
“Can I get some water? I have terrible breath, I can smell myself.” I fill a glass from the tap, and return quickly. “Thanks,” he says. “Well, we started out at ice, that club down on Dearborn. You kept saying how much you wanted to dance, and you pretty much stayed out on the floor all night. Everywhere we went, we danced our asses off.”
Well, that explains why my legs feel like Jell-O, and why I have a swollen ankle this morning.
He continues, “You’re a lot of fun, Becca. I haven’t had a night like that in a long time. We all said our goodbyes around four. By the time you and I went to eat, we were waiting for the six-thirty train back. You don’t remember any of this?” he asks with a little laugh. I can’t believe how out of practice I am with all of this. I liked to party before Harrison and I got together, but he wasn’t much on going out so I stopped.
“The commuters this morning didn’t look too happy to be around us; I guess we reeked. Stale booze and cigarette smoke isn’t the most pleasant smell on a Monday morning. They seemed particularly peeved at you for screaming on the train.”
“What? Why in God’s name would I have been screaming on the train?” What could I have been thinking?
“When we got on, one of your baby-shop ads was pasted up in our car. You and a baby. It’s a cute photo, but you saw it, ran up and started kissing it. You were shouting, ‘Baby Lou! Baby Lou!’ it was pretty freaking funny. Garnered some very interesting looks. Let’s just say you looked a little … different than you do in that ad, and people didn’t know it was you. They just thought some crazy lady was screaming at a baby named Lou.” He smiles, and downs his water. He gets up to go to the bathroom. I pray no one I know saw me this morning. I stand to take a hesitant look in the mirror, I know I don’t want to see what’s in the reflection: Jesus, even worse than I imagined.
My smoky eyes from last night look like two big shiners that go all the way to my chin. My once beautiful hair looks like a redheaded bird’s nest, complete with a family of pigeons living in it. I wait for Will to exit the bathroom so I can wash my face and pull back my hair. I’m so embarrassed. When I look and feel a little more presentable, I emerge from the bathroom. Will looks like he’s ready to go out again. Perfect hair, clothes don’t even look slept in. Men suck.
“Thank you for taking care of me and making sure I got home. I’m ashamed of needing it, but I’m grateful nonetheless. I’m just thankful I didn’t run into anyone I knew on the train.”
“You did, though. You don’t remember that either?” he asks, a little surprised.
“Who was it?” I ask, begging in my mind that it not be one of Katie and Melanie’s neighbors.
“I don’t know, you never introduced me. He walked over when you were making love to your ad. He was speaking quietly to you, and you calmed down. The two of you sat and talked for the remainder of the ride. He was hot, tall and built: Just my type. Look, I really need to go. Thanks again for last night, and please let me know when everyone’s doing it again, I’m in for sure.”
He must have called a cab, because there’s one waiting at the curb. He can’t leave yet: I need more information!
“I need to know who this guy was. I didn’t say anything about him? Give me some details!”
“I’m sorry, Becca, I didn’t hear your conversation. We got off the train, and you didn’t say anything about him. Gotta run, take care!”
And off he goes. I sat and spoke with someone I “know” for half an hour on the train? Who the hell would I know going from downtown to here so early in the morning?
Chapter 6
I go over to Mel’s on Wednesday, after spending the rest of Monday with my head in the toilet, and all day Tuesday recovering from Monday. If memory serves, I prayed to every deity I’ve ever heard of to let me die. I believe I also swore to never touch the stuff again. It’s been a really long time since I’ve felt that way, and I have no plans of repeating any time soon.
I love the way Mel’s home makes me feel. My place is chic, but not really lived in. It looks more like so
mething out of a catalog. She greets me at the door with a squirming baby.
“Here, take her. She’s worn me out this morning. I feel like she went from crawling to running overnight!” she says, while throwing Lou into my arms. Lou tries a backbend to get free, and I almost drop her.
“Shit!” I exclaim, as I barely keep my grasp on her cotton pajamas.
“Th-it…th-it…th-it…”
Uh-oh. She into copying now, too, I see.
“Thanks, Bec. Anymore bad habits you want to throw her way? She’s like a magnet for every bad thing we do or say. Brian slammed his finger in the drawer last night, and I can’t even repeat what she picked up from him, mostly because she’ll try and say it!” Mel looks exasperated. Makes me feel a little better about the weekend. It seems I’m not the only one this little nugget can tire out.
Mel puts her in the high chair, that still has the knot in the belt, and secures her with her robe sash.
“It works better, and I can untie it. So, how was Sunday? What did y’all do?” she asks, as she offers the still squirming Lou some oatmeal.
“We had fun, I guess. My friend, Mandi, invited a few people and we went out. Ever hear of Ice?”
She laughs, “That real pretentious place on Dearborn? Yeah, I’ve heard of it. Never been, but some of the younger players frequent it. It’s supposed to be the place these days. And, what do you mean, ‘you guess’?” She releases Lou from her confinement, and the baby runs to the living room to play with her toys.
“Well … I kind of blacked out. I don’t remember much beyond that place. We were out all night, and then Will - he’s a model - rode the early train back with me.”
“Really? That’s not really like you, is it? I guess I’ve never been around the party girl, but I can’t even imagine you that drunk. That’s a good explanation for why you look like crap.”
“Thanks, thanks a lot,” I say, acting like I’m mad. Even though she’s right, it still hurts. I have no color in my face at all, and my eyes are bloodshot from vomiting. I’ve had better days. “One thing is weird, other than the fact that I have no recollection of about eight hours of my life. Will said that I spoke with a guy I seemed to know, or at least he knew me, on the train.”
“Why is that so weird? You usually talk to anyone. He probably recognized you, and you were being friendly,” Mel kindly says. She’s trying to ease my shame, and I love her for it.
“Apparently, when we got on the train, I acted like an ass. One of the ads featuring me and Lou was on the train, and I guess I was talking to her, and kissing the poster.”
“OK, that’s weird, Bec. I’m not gonna lie. How did it look?”
“Really, Mel? That’s your question? I don’t even remember doing what I’m talking about; how could I remember that? Anyway, the guy started talking to me, and he calmed me down. We sat and talked the rest of the way back. Who in the world would I know coming from the city at that time of the morning? We got off at the same stop, too. I’m just praying its not one of your friends or neighbors. I would die of embarrassment.”
“Any description? I know you don’t remember, but did Will say anything?” Mel asks with a furrowed brow. I know she’s thinking.
“Yes, Will is gay so he noticed the guy’s looks. Tall, taller than me, with dark hair. He said he was built, too.” I hope that rings a bell for her, but really it could describe just about anyone.
“I’ll ask Brian. Maybe it’s someone who’s seen you with us, and Brian knows him. Not sure why someone would be on the Monday morning train that early coming this way though. Unless, of course, he had made some bad decision too the night before!” She cackles, and we hear Lou from the other room copy her. I run to give her a squeeze.
* * *
Thanksgiving is approaching, and Mel and I decide we need to plan. Our parents are coming into town, and so is Brian’s dad. She’s asked me to come over this morning, and I assume that’s what we’ll be doing. I’m looking forward to it. This is the first Thanksgiving we will all have together since we were little.
I let myself in the front door, and Brian and Mel are sitting on the couch.
“In here, Bec,” Mel says quietly. I assume Lou is sleeping.
“What’s up? Where are the kiddos?”
“Have a seat, Becca. Is there something you’d like to tell us about the weekend you watched the kids? With Lou, in particular?” Melanie asks, looking down into her coffee cup as she takes a sip.
Oh. My. God.
I break out into an anxious sweat, and tears squirt from my eyes, “I’m so sorry, Mel! I only turned my back for half a second and she was gone… I’ve been sick about …” I get interrupted.
“What the hell are you blabbering about? You lost Louise?” Melanie looks furious.
Double shit.
“What are you talking about? What do you think happened when I was watching her?” I’m trying my best to cover my tracks, and I think I may have offered up a little too much information. She’s pissed.
“No, Becca, why don’t you tell me what the hell you’re talking about?” She’s yelling and Brian pats her leg to try to calm her down.
“Bec, we met the guy from the train,” Brian says sweetly, while continuing to soothe the beast that is Melanie.
“No, Brian, no. I want to hear what the hell happened first!” Melanie’s nostrils are flaring, I’d better fess up.
“I was in the coffee shop, and I had to set her down for just a second, to grab my wallet. She went outside, and a policeman found her. She was fine, but I wasn’t. It took me a while to get over that. Mel, I was so upset and I was too scared to tell you about it. I’m so very sorry.” I go over to both of them, and hug them tight. When I pull back, Brian is glaring at Melanie.
“Go ahead, put the poor girl out of her misery,” he says with a little smile as he nudges Mel in the ribs.
“OK, OK. I lost her today, too. Brian and I were in the mall trying to get a little early Christmas shopping done. He went into one store, while I was pushing the stroller and staring into a store window. When I looked down, she had escaped. That’s how we met your friend.”
“Really, Mel? You put me through hell while you did the same thing? Wait, what friend are you talking about?”
“What I wanted to tell you, is that we met the guy who you talked to on the train,” Melanie says, appropriately reprimanded.
I’m totally confused. How in the world would they know who I spoke to, if I can’t even remember? Oh no, I must have been right; it was one of their friends. It does make sense, though. I don’t think I would have spoken to a compete stranger for that long.
“Well? Who is he? Does he live here in the neighborhood?” I go to the kitchen to make myself a cup of coffee.
“No, he doesn’t.” Melanie pauses.
“Are you going to make me beg, Mel?”
“OK. I’ll start at the beginning. Like I said before, we were in the mall, and little Miss Lou got away from me. I ran in the store and called to Brian to come and help me look for her. After a few harrowing minutes, a man walks up with her in his arms. She was happy and laughing when she saw us. He seemed hesitant when he looked at us, until it was obvious by her reaction that we were the parents.
He apologized, saying that he recognized her from the park and that he thought her mom was a redhead. Lou must have recognized him, too, because there is no way she would have let him pick her up. He mentioned that he had met the two of you in the park, and assumed you were her mom. He was the guy from the train. He remembered you, and was concerned about the shape you were in. He said he tried to calm you down, and that you were a little ‘excited’ was the term he used. We spoke with him for quite a while; he’s a very nice person. He’s a public safety officer here in Glencoe.” A flash of awareness crosses her face. “He must have been the same one who rescued her the first time! Brian, we owe this guy for saving our baby twice!”
She turns back to me.
“Becca, we have to go a
nd thank him. I’ll make some cookies or something, and you and I will bring them up to the station. It’s the least we can do, especially since he didn’t rat you out. He only mentioned that he met you in the park; he didn’t say how.”
I remember him now; the memories come flooding back. I have never been so scared in my life. I was so rude, not even saying thank you to him. Mel’s right. We do have to express our gratitude.
“Did you get his name?” I ask, knowing we should probably call to make sure he’s on duty when we go there.
“Yes. Wickham Dunmore. Did I happen to mention he also has a brogue? It’s slight, as if he’s trying to mask it, but it’s there. Very Scottish.”
Now that I think about it, when he spoke to me that day, I did hear it in his voice. He must think we’re the worst family. I lose the baby, Melanie loses her, and he sees me drunk and acting like an idiot on mass transit. Even worse, that’s when he still thought I was the mom. I can only imagine what he must have been thinking that morning.
“OK. When do you want to go?”
“Let’s go on Wednesday. I’ll make some pies; they can have them for Thanksgiving. I’ll call ahead to make sure he’ll be there,” she says, her typical Melanie determination driving full speed ahead.
* * *
Since I have no real skill in the kitchen, Melanie did all the work. She made four pies and a couple of dozen cookies to bring to the station. She also called ahead to confirm that he was on duty. I’m a little nervous. I had a half-hour conversation with this person of whom I have zero recollection. There’s no telling what I said. I should also thank him for calming me down so I didn’t get arrested on the morning commuter train. How humiliating that would have been.
