What a Girl Needs (14 page)

“I think the bigger question is, do you think he would do that? And if you do, why wouldn’t you share your fears with Kay?”

“Because I’m a wuss.” I drop my head and sigh. “I’ve got nothing tangible. Nothing I can trace back to him, so do I really have something to say to her? Or am I putting off planning the most beautiful wedding shower for a friend I love because I don’t like her boyfriend?”

Brea doesn’t buy my false bravado for a second. “So you’ll hide the truth from her, let her get married, have 2.5 kids and then be there for her when she finds out he’s still cheating?”

“But I don’t
know
that he’s cheating.” I fiddle with the napkin, wrapped tightly around the silverware. “I just found personal items in the guest room.”

Brea’s eyes widen. “I don’t want to know. But from all I know of Kay, such ‘personal items’ as you put it, don’t add up.”

“Don’t worry, I wasn’t going to tell you. You think I want to defile someone else with my findings?”

“He’s gross. I’m just going to say it.” Brea wrinkles her nose. “I know everyone has different tastes and all that, but he gives me the willies. He always has. He’s like a dirty used shoe at the secondhand store.”

“Thank you for that visual. Though I secretly love it when Pollyanna goes rogue and gives us a dose of her truth.”

“Just tell her whatever you found, and again,” she puts up her hand and says, “I don’t want to know what it was. But tell her you found it, and be done with it.”

“Last night is the first time I ever heard Kay sound like me—Kay wants a husband and a family. Who knew?

“She wants marriage on her terms though, and regardless of whether Matt cheats or not, there are consequences to her terms. He’s not a believer. He’s a patent attorney—”

“Excuse me?”

“So you know his hours are long, I mean.” Brea shrugs. “You just have to tell her your suspicions. Period. It’s like the Gospel. You’re called to go out and tell the Good News. In this case, the bad news, but you’re not responsible for the outcome.”

“If they break up, she’ll never forgive me.”

“No, I get it. It’s a no-win. Kay likes her world so ordered, and you simply can’t control love. You have to tell her she will never be able to control this or anyone.”

“She controlled me pretty well, actually.”

“No one will ever control you, Ashley Stockingdale Novak.” Brea gets out a wet wipe and roughly cleans her sons’ hands. “Tell her the truth, then if she still wants to go ahead, you slap a smile on your face and plan Camelot. She probably won’t listen anyway. You didn’t listen to us about Seth, but it’s a moral issue, Ashley. You have to tell her. Most likely, it’s your own paranoia, and this is all just created drama because you need a job.”

“A moral issue? Way to add pressure.” I drop my face into my hands. “Oh Lord, I do need a job. I have no purpose, and I came here to discover one, only to find more ways to avoid a purpose.”

Brea shakes her palms at me. “This drama? This is why your housewife shows exist. Those women have nothing better to do with their time. The old Ashley would have said, ‘Hey Kay, I think Matt might have a different definition of monogamy than you do. It would be a conversation. It would be over, and you’d go back to work, back to flubbing up your next meal for Kevin.”

I groan. I hate it when she’s right.

“So when are you going to tell me why you’re living with your mother?”

“It’s no big deal. It’s not that bad actually,” Brea says in her typical, sunny tone.

“Andrea Bocelli could have walked into that house and felt the tension.”

She opens her mouth to speak, but I cut her off.

“Yes, I know blind people are more perceptive in their other senses. That isn’t what I meant, and you know it.”

“I didn’t want to burden you. It’s so hard on John. He’s so ashamed. Telling people we lost our house just feels like a betrayal toward him and rubbing salt in the wound. It’s not his fault.”

Something pops into my head, and I lose track of our conversation. “Where were your dogs? I just realized your dogs weren’t at the house.”

Brea’s cool exterior starts to crumble, until she looks at her boys in front of the tank, seems to find strength in them, and straightens her back as if to say she will not be defeated. “The dogs are staying with Kelly and Pastor Max. My mom wouldn’t let us bring them to the house.” She lets out a laugh. “I should probably be grateful she let me bring the boys.”

Brea always saw the glass not just half-full, but overflowing and brimming with abundance. If fairy godmothers painted a muse, she would look like Brea. Noting her ashen expression, I know the average person would be slitting their wrists by now. “Are you going to tell me how you got there?”

“You realize you’re doing it again?” Brea says. “Stirring up my troubles, so you don’t have to face your own. Worrying about Kay and her impending engagement. Even having dinner with Seth and Arin. Why are you here, Ashley?”

“I’m not! I’m concerned about my best friend living with her mother. I don’t want to come find her corpse in a rocking chair.”

“Why aren’t you working?” she asks me point-blank. “The real reason.”

“I thought of getting a job at Starbucks, or Nordstrom to pass the time, until we move again.”

“Ashley, I hate to remind you of this, but you were never great at keeping jobs, even when you had all the right credentials.”

“I kept my jobs.”

“Barely. Let’s be honest.”

“Let’s not. Pretending is so much better on my ego.” I try to defend myself. “The work was never my problem. It was the drama. I was working for a cocaine addict. Then, my ex-boyfriend came to work there, then—”

“What’s the common denominator, Ashley? For the drama, I mean? How many people do you know who worked for a cocaine addict?”

“Well, everyone at Gainnet for a time, smarty-pants.”

“And how many people have their ex-boyfriends come to work for that company at the same time as they break-up?”

“Are you suggesting that I invite my own drama?”

“If the shoe fits—”

“Buy it,” I say, finishing her sentence. But as I consider that Seth did approach me at the coffee shop this morning, maybe there’s truth in her assertion. “How does one invite drama? Do I have a calling card?”

“I wouldn’t know. As you can see, my life has very little drama unless it involves a toilet and missing Lego blocks.”

I raise my eyebrows. “Seriously? You’re living with your mother and you have two little monkeys. That’s dramatic.”

“I not a monkey,” Jonathan says.

“It’s an expression, Jonathan. Of course, you’re not a monkey. You’re far cuter than a monkey,” I tell him, while thinking I clearly need to work on my parenting skills.

“I like monkeys!” Miles says, slapping his hand against the aquarium. “Auntie, will you take us to the zoo?”

“Before I go back home, yes, I will take you to the zoo.”

“Want to go now!” Jonathan sings.

“We’re going to have Mickey Mouse pancakes now,” I say calmly, as I point to the picture on the Kiddie menu.

“Zoo! Zoo! Zoo!” the boys begin to chant.

“We can’t go to the zoo if you don’t act nicely in the restaurant.” The boys quiet and I stare at their mother as if to show her how it’s done.

The waitress brings Brea’s Diet Coke, and she shoves a straw in the glass and sips.

Miles stands up on a chair that he’s pulled over to the tank. “Fishes!”

“Fish,” Brea says. “The plural of fish is fish.”

“Fishes!” Jonathan repeats.

“Sit down on your bottoms,” Brea says firmly, and they know she’s not messing around. He sits down like she pushed him with an invisible hand.
Ah, to wield that kind of power.
“John’s got no money trouble at all. It’s a certain paternal figure in John’s life.”

I nod in understanding. John’s father always lived life on the edge. Talk about creating drama. If I created my own, John’s dad was an entire season of
Downton Abbey
.

“Indian casino,” she whispers behind a cupped hand.

My eyes widen. I never took John’s father for a gambler, but if I’ve learned anything in life, it’s that no one knows what goes on behind closed doors. He was a deacon at the church.

“He stole some money from the church coffers, so John felt responsible to pay it back. They trusted him.”

My heart grieves hearing this. “I’m so sorry. How long do you think you’ll be at your mother’s? Will you be able to buy another house?”

“Eventually. A smaller one—maybe a townhouse.”

“It’s too bad you can’t buy your mom a townhouse. She doesn’t need all that space, and you’re in such a good school district there.”

“Yeah. Too bad it would never occur to her to sell to us. Okay, let’s talk about something else. Don’t get involved Ashley. The world has gone on without you here for two years.”

“It really hasn’t. When I left, I burned Kay’s clipboard. I spoke to the singles’ group and told them to get a life and send a thank you card to Kay. You know what? She’s doing exactly the same thing, enabling their bad, parasitic lifestyle. You and John are living with your mother. The entire reason everyone’s life is falling apart is because I’m not here to tell it like it is. That’s the problem. That’s my calling.”

Brea starts cracking up. “You are so freakin’ narcissistic. You really think we’ve all fallen apart without you. I don’t think that’s it, Ashley. Remember, it’s only your truth, it’s not like it’s Gospel.”

“Seriously!” I say to convince her. “Seth even said as much to me this morning.”

Brea rocks her head back and forth. “What do you mean what Seth said to you this morning?”

“He showed up at my coffee shop this morning and we ran into each other.”

“You ran into each other, or he stalked you?”

“Stalked me? Gosh, that’s very exciting to think about, being stalked at my age.” I lean in toward her. “Do you think he was stalking me?”

“See what I mean? Drama. No one wants to be stalked but you, Ashley.”

“Okay, I don’t really want to be stalked. I just think it’s cool to be exciting enough to have a stalker.”

“Your life really is boring in Philly.”

“If you only knew. The people on the infomercials are my best friends. I know the home shopping network hosts by name.”

Even saying it out loud I’m stunned to hear what my life has become. “Everyone seems stuck in some way, Brea. When is God going to loosen this grip and let us run free again?”

“He may not think we need to run free. Besides, maybe God wants us all to see that we’re not as stuck as we think we are.” Brea’s lost in thought for a moment. “That we have options and need to make some hard choices—like we had to when selling the house. It was either let the entire church take the fall, or our family.”

“That’s very noble of you, but honestly, I’d be happy to know I was living with my mom because it had some purpose. I feel like everyone else has this spiritually-profound purpose in life, and I’m just an extra in a red shirt on
Star Trek
.

“You’re in Philly because that’s where your husband is, and he’s your world. Maybe you’re bored because God is trying to prepare you for how monotonous motherhood can be.” Brea looks at her boys and her entire face lights up. “Dear Father God, they are so beautiful, aren’t they, Ashley? But some days, if I have to read ‘The Foot Book’ one more time? I think I’ll go stark raving mad.”

I look over at her lack of monotony. “They are beautiful.” I pause and gaze at the boys longingly. “And so healthy.”

Brea drops her hands onto the table, hard enough for the silverware to clink. “That’s it. You’re afraid to be a mother.”

“What? Kevin and I are waiting for—”

Brea looks at the boys and screams. Miles is
in
the fish tank. He’s splashing water as he tries to get to he surface, and before I can blink, Brea is on top of the chair fishing him out. The little boy sputters as Brea pats his back, and I’m still too in shock to do anything but grab Jonathan’s hand and pull him away from the tank. I reach into my purse, grab a $20 bill and leave it on the table as we scramble out of the empty restaurant with Brea shouting apologies as she snuggles her dripping son close to her.

My stomach is in knots as I think about seeing Miles’ face under water with the glass between us. “Oh my gosh, they move so fast! What are you feeding them?”

I take off my light, white sweater, and Brea wraps it around Miles. “My baby,” she says, as she clutches him tightly to her and cups his head into her body. “My sweet baby.”

“Oh my goodness, seriously? That’s parenthood? They move so quickly—it’s like containing lightning.” I look back at the fish tank, and it’s at least four feet from the top of the chair. “There is no earthly way he could have gotten in there.”

“I’m a terrible mother!” Brea bawls. “God is punishing us. He’s punishing John for marrying such a stupid woman.”

“Brea, stop it. You’re a fantastic mother. What’s happened to you? You sound like me, and the world only has room for one of me.”

“I just fished my kid out of a fish tank.”

“How did he get up there?” I ask her. “It was physically impossible.”

We soon fall into giggles as I take the slippery Miles into my arms while Brea unlocks the minivan and gets Jonathan in his carseat.

“In his defense,” I say, “he did tell you he wanted to go to the zoo. I’ll concede that maybe breakfast out and deep conversation was a bad idea.”

“Mommy, I hungry,” Miles says.

Brea clicks him into his carseat. “Then you shouldn’t have gone fishing before breakfast.”

Brea and I ply her boys with Noah’s Bagels, then we visit Target for new outfits to erase all signs of koi kissing. We bring them back to Kay’s house, bathe them and basically start the day all over again.

As I slip the little T-shirt over Jonathan’s head, I tell him, “Reset! We’re going to start this day all over again.”

Jonathan shakes his head. “No, no.”

“You didn’t have to buy them both outfits, Ashley.”

“Your mother’s still going to ask why they’re dressed differently. At least this way we can say I needed to shop. That much she’ll believe.”

Brea pulls a shirt over Miles’ head and agrees.