The Universe is a Very Big Place (21 page)

The intensity of his raw masculinity gripped her. Even when she hated him the sex had been good. Behind her she could feel Sam’s eyes watching them. She tightened her robe and stepped outside, closing the door.

"I thought I’d take the boys to the zoo."

"Jason! You do realize it’s supposed to be over 100 degrees today, right?"

"Not in San Diego." He grinned, deepening his dimples. Spring wondered how many women had fallen prey to those dimples. The itch was coming back.

"Okay. It’s your week. I’m not gonna argue with you about things like...well, like your van breaking down in the middle of the trip. Or the fact that they have school tomorrow. Nope. You do what you think you must."

Jason winked. "Thank you. I appreciate it."

"I should warn you about the boys. They might not be acting like their old selves."

"What do you mean?" Jason set his jaw and leaned forward, a look of concern crossing his face.

"Well, the counselor recommended, among other things, medication for their hyperactivity."

"I thought we agreed there would be no medication. Why didn’t you let me know?"

"Because you have no phone!"

Jason closed his eyes, putting his fingers to the sides of his temple, pushing in. "God. Jesus. I don’t want my kids doped up. You know I’m against that shit."

"Jason, I was there, being made to feel like a total failure of a parent while your children ratted me out for everything I’ve ever done in my life and many things I haven’t. After all the inquisitions we’ve had from the state over the last year you should be glad we still have children."

Jason shifted his weight to the other foot and stared off to the side. "I hate this. I fucking hate this."

"Well, you tell Counselor Klink then. Anyway, let me go get the boys." Spring did not invite him in. Sam wasn’t thrilled when Jason roamed about the house. Jason liked to touch everything, including Sam’s books, and comment on them.
"Banking for Dummies?
If I ever find
Sex for Dummies
I will send you a copy, Sam."

"Boys, Daddy is here. Get up. You are going back early today." The boys stirred in the double bed they shared. Spring could see their ribs through the thin cloth of the pajama material and flinched. The boys roused and obediently dressed and combed their hair. Mindless zombies on cruise control. Spring grabbed their bottle of medication and ushered them out to the front porch.

"Mommy’s gonna miss you boys." She reached down to give them each a kiss on the cheek. It was a strange feeling when they stood there, not protesting her maternal affection. A pang of guilt shot through her like a bullet.

"They are fucking amoebas, Spring. What the hell were you thinking?"

"Don’t blame me, Jason. You’re the one who set this whole thing up."

Jason lifted each of the twin’s arms high into the air and let them drop. Their arms flapped down towards their side, making loud thwacking sounds as they landed.

"Here is their medicine. I gave you half and put the other half away so don’t worry about bringing it back. Please make sure they get no more than one pill each per day."

Jason placed a firm hand on each of their heads and steered them in the direction of the van. They slogged to their seats, not even arguing about who would get to ride shotgun.

"I guess we will see how it goes. The zoo should be easier, anyway. But not as fun."

"They want us to go to parenting classes," Spring called out as Jason buckled them in. "I’m not sure exactly how that would work. But unless we want to see Blaine and Shane living in the hills with rich parents who take them to theme parks, we need to figure it out."

Jason waved her off dismissively.

"See you next week," Spring said to her boys who stared vacantly past her.
 

Jason sped out of sight, Jerry Garcia serenading him out of the cul de sac.

She was about to go into the house when she saw her neighbor, a scraggly, middle-aged woman whose cataracts were so bad her eyes took on a misty river effect. She called herself Mistress Zara. Rumor had it that she had lost her young son to a car accident years ago. Lanie claimed that Mistress Zara was a witch, and not the good kind either, and gave her the stink-eye every chance she got. Zara’s house was painted purple and she had socks hung on her trees like ornaments. The housing association had issued her countless warnings but as far as Spring knew no one had the gumption to do anything more. This morning Mistress Zara was racing down the road on a large tricycle chasing a cat.
 

"There are some strange people in the world," Spring said to herself, then went inside to have Lanie read her tea leaves.

Spring was guilty of something. Lanie could smell it all over her. It was thick as caramel and twice as sticky. Her thoughts were confirmed when Spring suggested she and Sam take an outing to Sam’s favorite bookstore.
 

"I can have anything I want Pookie?" Sam scratched his head in disbelief.
 

A smarter man would have figured out that this was a payoff for something, but without a book to tell him what to think, Sam was out of his league.

"Yes, Sam. Anything.” Spring took her credit card out of the freezer while Sam salivated, rubbing his spindly hands together. Finally, they left, and Lanie could think about her plan.

Though Spring insisted there were no peepers in the neighborhood, Lanie had been around the block a few more times than her kiddo and knew a peeper when she saw one. Lanie held up the red-lace lingerie set she had purchased at the fancy underwear store. It had set her back an entire social security check, but to catch a cat, sometimes you had to parade around like a mouse.

"Thongs should stay on feet," Lanie huffed, shaking her buttocks to release the strand of material that had wedged its way between her cheeks. Too bad they didn’t make these in Dr. Scholl’s. She sucked in her gut, donned Spring’s silver heels, and sprayed on some of Sam’s perfume.
 

"Come to mama," she cooed, positioning herself in the lawn chair enticingly.

What Lanie would do with the peeper should she actually catch him, she wasn’t sure. She would worry about that when it happened. The sun dipped below the palm trees on the horizon and her eyelids grew heavy. She wasn’t sure when she had fallen asleep, but when she woke up, the daylight had shifted into a grey nothingness. It was cooler out at least, though not by much. Lanie checked the back yard for peeper tracks, but seeing none, sighed, and stood up to go back in.

And there he was. His head popped up, then disappeared, a gopher in its hole.
 

The pervy little bastard.
Lanie was on him. She raced across the yard, feeling the heavy weight of her breasts pull like two cannonballs as she made her way to the back gate. She heard a thump from behind the fence and scrambled to unlatch the gate door in time to see him get up and dart away. Lanie had been correct. It was the attractive man with the hotrod that lived behind them.
 

"Wait!" she called, but he vanished down the alley, disappearing into the encroaching darkness. She saw the pale silhouette of his smooth head, but then it too faded away.

Lanie smirked, fingering the lace on her undies.
What nerve!
She marched to her yard, latched the gate, and headed back inside. As she entered the living room she heard Sam’s nasal voice.
 

"Spring. For the sake of all that’s good and holy, make your mother put on some clothes."

Lanie shot him a dirty look and strutted to her bedroom. She had an admirer. He didn’t.
 

What did he know anyway?

Kimberly was waiting for them on Monday morning. Spring entered her office to see her face pinched and the toes of her black shoes scuffed.
 

"You made a laughing stock of this organization," Kimberly said, her mouth opening extra wide with every word. "Have you seen the headlines of yesterday’s paper?" Kimberly thrust a newspaper at the trio and Spring read the words,
Condoms Not Safe For Everyone to Wear.

"It’s not our fault," Debbie said, looking Kimberly in the eye. "You sent us out in 100 degree heat and put poor Sarah in a wetsuit and you expect that everything is going to go okay? You’re lucky there’s not a lawsuit."

Kimberly glowered across the desk. She was not Debbie’s direct boss and so held no power over her. But she could still torture the other two. She snapped her finger and pointed at the door, indicating that Debbie should go. Debbie gathered her things and spoke to Spring and Sarah.
 

"Remember, ladies, it’s just a job." Then she left, slamming the door behind her.

When Debbie had left, Kimberly turned her full attention to the Spring and Sarah. "What have you girls to say for yourselves?" Kimberly had her elbows on the table, a sharp pencil held tersely in her right hand. When neither girl spoke Kimberly launched it across the office. It sailed like a rocket, grazing Sarah’s hair on its way towards the wall behind them. Both girls flinched and Sarah trembled, huffing laboriously in her chair. Spring wondered if she were having an asthma attack.

"Kimberly. Are you losing your mind?" Spring looked at the small dent in the wall where the pencil had made contact.

Kimberly picked up her stapler and Spring raised one arm over her own head and the other over Sarah’s. Kimberly clucked. "What babies you girls are," she said, lowering the stapler and pounding it into a stack of papers on her desk. "What? Did you think I was going to throw this at you?" A small dimple punctuated the end of her cat smile.

"...What we need to do,” Kimberly went on, stapling papers like it were the most important task that she had ever undertaken. "...Is to decide how to deal with the situation. You made me look bad. And I can’t have that." Kimberly slammed her fist into the stapler. "I’ve worked too damned hard...done too many things...to let the two of you louse it up."

"It wasn’t our fault," Spring repeated, looking to Sarah for support. Sarah had her face buried in her hands and wouldn’t look up.

Kimberly wagged a finger in Sarah’s direction. "Out of here. I will deal with you later. I want to see Spring. Alone." Sarah scrambled to the door, giving Spring an apologetic look before disappearing into the corridor.

"Oh, dear God, you’re gonna kill me, aren’t you?" How would she do it? Pencils. File Folders. A computer monitor. Could a person die of paper cuts? She wondered how creative Kimberly could get with the office supplies.

"God, no. Have a backbone woman. But we do need to talk. You put me in an embarrassing predicament. And you owe me. Big."