The Kitchen Shrink (14 page)

Nicole looked up at me from the chair. “Please don’t ever say that word again.”

“OK,” I nodded while Joel laughed.

 “How about a tattoo for you?” He suggested as I shook my head. “Sixteen percent of adults have them and that number is going up as we speak.

“Thanks but no thanks.” I was too busy counting my lucky stars my kids didn’t have tattoos. Yet.

“OK, Nicole,” Joel said. “Here’s the needle.” Her eyes widened and she reached for my hand. “I’m going to put on these forceps,” he held up a silver pair of scissor-like looking forceps with holes in the ends, “see, they’ll hold your skin in place while I do the piercing, OK?” She nodded. I held my breath. “It’s going to hurt for about two seconds, but you’ll be fine,” he soothed. “Here we go.”

She squeezed my hand tightly and I couldn’t look away. I felt the needle stab through my baby’s smooth skin. This wasn’t my choice. I was really beginning to see that just because she’s my daughter, her path isn’t mine.

Joel got the needle through the pinch of skin and then slid the belly button ring through, a surgical steel ring with a cubic zirconia that nestled into her naval. It was very cute.

“All done,” he said, cleaning her off. He stood her up again to show her in the mirror. She loved it. He asked if he could take a picture for his files, she loved that too. She was so happy with the placement. He did do a nice job centering it. He totally knew his business and was proud of his work.

The older woman came and oohed and aahed over it, and rubbed her hand over her own crepey belly button. “I want one now.”

Even the tattooed man seemed impressed. He nodded his head, “Looks good.” Nicole smiled and thanked them.

Elgin was right. It had been a rite of passage. I allowed Nicole the freedom to make her choice, with her own body, and I was even able, after only a little nagging, to support it. I know I looked at her a little differently. Who was this young woman? What are her hopes and dreams? Where will she be five years from now? I wonder how she saw me? I could practically hear Brett’s voice laughing in my head, “She doesn’t see you at all.” But that was OK. Maybe she would remember this afternoon. Our new friends, Joel, Lester and Nadia waved goodbye to us from the steps of the porch, wishing us well.

“You, too.” Nicole and I waved back. Then she squeezed my hand twice, like she used to when she was a little girl. Our secret signal. “Love you.”

“Since I own you,” Elgin began.

Oh, he was up to no good. I waited for incoming that landed with a splat. For some reason, the producers decided I needed a man to make my world A-OK. Elgin here says he found me one. So, there I was, getting dolled up.

OK. I was excited, I was nervous, I wanted to vomit. I haven’t been on a date in something like 20 years. I didn’t count the Martinator. That wasn’t a date. If it was, I’m calling for a do-over. Phil-O wasn’t a date either. He was a magical interlude that I wish upon on all of my sisters. Sisters, as in every woman I know. A gorgeous guy who managed to relight my sparkle without needing anything in return. No meals cooked, no underwear washed, no rides to the airport. I missed Phil-O, but in a good way.

I stepped out of the shower just in time to hear Daria knock-knock-knock-knock-knock on my door.

“Your fairy godmother is here!” She sang out, entering my bedroom carrying two shopping bags. “I had to get past your fairy godmother downstairs,” she added. “That Elgin. He’s convinced he’s found your Prince Charming. Who is this guy?”

“Didn’t Elgin tell you?” I bent over and wrapped my wet hair in my towel, turban style and whipped myself back upright. “It’s a blind date.”

“Well, I know that,” Daria said. “Who is it?”

“The blind guy.”

“Your blind date is blind?”

“No, he’s the owner of Blind Man’s Bluff, the guy who’s putting the plantation shutters in my kitchen.”

“Oh, that Elgin is good.”

“Shut up.”

“So, have you met him?”

“He came out to do the initial measuring, not something he usually does but, hey, it’s TV, right?”

Daria nodded.

“Elgin fell in love with him, and I wasn’t really paying attention. I only met him briefly, but he seemed nice.”

“What does he look like?”

“Young,” I said.

“How young and so what?” Daria laughed, as she set the bags on my bed and pulled out an impossibly tiny black dress.

“Who’s that for?” I asked, tugging at the dress and watching it snap back to about a size 4; as in 4T toddler size.

“It’s pour vous, Lisby Lou.”

“Come on. Never gonna happen.” I looked at Daria. I looked at Daria’s boobs. I looked back at the dress.

“Yes, it’s my dress and fits me just fine, thank you. It’s my lucky dress.” She leered at me and tossed it over.

“This fits you?” I asked and then looked down at myself.

“Honey, honey, it’s the beauty of design, elasticity and a forgiving fit. Trust me.”

“Funny, that’s what Elgin said.”

“Go try it on.”

“Where did you get this?’”

“Ask me no questions, I’ll tell you no lies.” She clapped her hands. “Chop, chop.”

I went into my closet, pulled off my robe and lost the towel. I shook and shimmied my way into the black body stocking that was about the size of a paper towel tube, feeling like Harry Potter apparating or something. To my amazement, I was able to A: get into it and B: pull it down nearly to my knees. I walked out to show Daria.

She gave a wolf whistle. “Hot damn.”

I turned and looked into the mirror. “Oh, my.” The scrunchy elastic gathering of the dress poofed up my boobs, curved in at my waist and hugged my hips without delineating my roly-polies…Hmm. Its heart shaped neckline didn’t droop too low, I looked over at Daria, but I bet it did when Daria had it on. Its cap sleeves also had the ruching in it so I would be able to wear a bra. Padded bra. Cool. I twisted and turned for better views. “Daria, this is a cool dress.”

“Nope, you are a cool goddess,” she said handing me pair of gold beaded mules with a two inch heel. While our boobs weren’t even in the same zip code, our feet were exactly the same size. “I was going to give you my black stiletto sandals but fear your tennis shoe/flip-flop wearing mom’s feet would go into shock and topple off.”

“You thought right,” I said, taking the most beautiful pair of shoes I had ever seen. “Daria, these are gorgeous. I’m scared to wear them. What if I spill on them or get them scuffed?”

“What? How are you going to spill on them? You’re actually planning on having your feet up by your mouth, nasty girl.”

“Daria. Seriously. These are amazing shoes.”

“I know. Wanna know what they cost?”

“No. But, tell me anyway.”

“You don’t want to know.”

“I know, but let’s hear it.”

“You do know I’m a successful TV star…” she began.

“Daria.”

“They were a little over $400.”

I placed them gently on my bed and stepped away. “I’m not wearing these. Daria, you love your shoes like they were your kids. I couldn’t wear these, I’d be too nervous.”

She wrinkled her nose at me as she nodded her head. “Just try them on. Just once. Here in your bedroom.” She put them on the floor at my feet. I stepped into them, feeling just like Cinderella. They really were the most perfect shoes I had ever seen. The gold, copper, silver, and red crystal beadwork was exquisite. They, of course, fit me perfectly. I walked over to the mirror. Nay, I glided.

“They’re gorgeous,” I said. The heel was high enough to define my calves but not too high to walk in. They were snug enough to stay on without having to curl my toes, but not tight enough to cause a blister. They were spiky enough to dot the exclamation point of ‘Hubba Hubba!’ with a well-placed kick.

“You know, he probably won’t even notice these shoes,” I tried one more time. “I have my black heels that I could wear…”

“Lisby. I agree with your informal poll, margin of error plus or minus three percent, that only other women and gay guys notice shoes, but you’ll know you have them on. If you think the dress is lucky, wait until you get a load of the power of these shoes.”

Daria helped me blow dry my hair and did my make-up. I was so worked up I had a stomach ache. “Dating sucks,” I said, checking my reflection in the mirror for the hundredth time.

“Just have fun. It’s not like you’re going to marry the guy.”

We looked at each other and burst out laughing. I always teased Daria that every date she went on, always started out with the premise that maybe ‘this guy’ was her soul mate. I tried to counsel her that guys always had the premise that maybe ‘this girl’ will give him some.

In spite of all my teasing of Daria, I knew exactly how she felt, especially since she reminded me.

“Although, aren’t you the one who fell in love and planned a future based on some guy’s eyelashes?” Daria said.

“At least I got two kids out of it.”

“Take it down a notch,” Daria said. “It’s just dinner, and I know what you are thinking.”

“Oh, it takes real ESP to guess that I’d like a magical evening, for once. I’m trying to change, remember? I’m trying to be positive. Who knows? Maybe this night will turn into something special.”

Daria pumped her hands. “Shh! Will you stop giving the universe police directions to your hopes and dreams? Be cool.”

“When have I ever been cool?”

Daria laughed at me as I warned myself to knock it off. I had to go to the bathroom one more time.

I headed downstairs to do a quick interview against the teal cabinets that had finally been installed, complete with all the cupboard doors. Not that I would tell Elgin, but the cabinets were beautiful. I couldn’t wait until my kitchen was finished. I was so nervous for my date I forgot to be nervous about the questions. The crew, including Sam, actually applauded as I came down the stairs.

“It’s been a tough week, Elgin,” I said in response to his ‘how do I think things are going?’

“My mom, my kids,” I threw up my hands. “I think my kitchen is getting there,” I did a Vanna White hand swoop, “and, thanks to you,” I tried to think of a good sound bite for the editors to use when they put the show together, “I have a ‘blind’ date.”

Elgin laughed and clapped, just as the doorbell rang. “Open the door, for your mystery date,” Elgin sang as the camera followed me to the front door.

“Hi, Teddy,” I said to the blind guy. He was kind of cute, but he reminded me of someone. I couldn’t put my finger on it. He came bearing flowers; a bouquet of orchids, nestling against a big shiny banana leaf tied with raffia. Nice. Maybe this would be fun. Maybe I was just begging the universe to set me up to fail, once again. Maybe I would stop thinking stuff like that. I handed the flowers off to Daria and headed off on my adventure.

Teddy helped me into his road penis, a shiny midnight blue Infinity. Sweet! I hated myself for thinking like that. It must be a California thing. Oh, who was I kidding? Everybody always searched for clues about other people. I bet an Amish girl noticed if her date had brushed the mane on the horse he rode up on.

I smiled at Teddy. He grinned back at me as I sunk into the gray leather passenger seat. “Ready?” he asked me.

“And willing,” I said. Oh, God. I am the world’s worst flirt. I already felt myself falling for this guy. He could be the one. How great would that be? I could stop looking.

Sam continued rolling the camera as Teddy slammed my door closed. I tried to memorize details of the drive; as we headed west, the sky was so hazy over the rolling hills, the vee of the ocean in the distance appeared erased. Sam and Dustin followed us to this chi chi restaurant on the coast, called Wiso’s. I had only eaten there once, with Daria, and we must have had too much to drink because we kept tormenting our waiter every time he brought us something. “We so hungry, you so full,” and then we’d laugh, until next time. “We so pretty, you so handsome,” and so on. All night. I hope we left a big enough tip. I hope that waiter got a new job.

Even though we weren’t on camera in the car, Teddy and I were both miced and our audio was being recorded. Elgin would spy on the tapes tomorrow along with a follow up interview with me, and of course, my date. Like I wasn’t self-conscious enough. I tried to begin some scintillating conversation, but I couldn’t remember the past tense of ‘dream’. Surely dreamt isn’t a real word? Besides, what loser talks about dreams on a first date? I hated listening to other people’s dreams. In fact, it was sort of a pet peeve of mine. Oh, crap, I was sweating.

“So, tell me about your business, Teddy.”

He leaned over and turned down the volume on his car stereo. Shoot, I was just beginning to groove to his tunes that sounded exactly like the music they play at SeaWorld. Everything on a first date is a clue, from music to car color choice.

Teddy, I even liked his name, had a lot going for him. I smiled at him. This was going to be fun.

Teddy smiled back and told me about his job. “We started ten years ago with three people, two mini-vans, and one big dream,” he said. He gave a commercial-worthy performance of the fast, friendly service and affordability of Blind Man’s Bluff. Riding in the front plush leather seat of his royal chariot, I guessed business was good.

We finally got to the restaurant, and I tugged on my dress as Teddy opened my door. Nice touch. He took my arm and I didn’t flinch. I patted my damp palms against my borrowed finery and tried to pretend I was Daria as we paraded into the restaurant.

“Welcome to Wiso’s,” the hostess said as we walked in, “We’re so glad you could join us.”

I couldn’t help it, I got a giggle fit. I know, real mature. I had a crazy notion of spouting off ‘We so happy, you so happy.’ I tried to think of sad stuff, Ryan’s last report card, Nicole’s last boyfriend, and I finally calmed down. I took a deep breath but one last giggle escaped, out of my nose, and I was afraid I launched something and then that was all I could think about. My hand was shaking as I tried to dab my finger under my nose so I decided to excuse myself. “I’ll be right back.”