she sent something for your birthday.”
“Never did. And didn’t even call.”
“She’s not going to change.”
“You’re so right. But Darcy?”
“Come on. Cut her a break. It’s her first semester at school. That can’t be easy for her.”
Of course she’s right, but I’d like everything to be perfect (ha!). I’m not going to obsess about my problems (double ha!). At least for today.
The next morning I wake up feeling refreshed and energized. Having the bed to myself was fantastic. And not being woken up by Richard’s snoring and farting was pure bliss. I’m whistling as I get dressed. After purchasing a kayak, I go to Books & Books, get a decaf nonfat cappuccino, also known as a “Why bother?” in barista-speak, and grab a Kayaker magazine.
It’s pretty quiet, but why wouldn’t it be? It’s ten a.m. on Tuesday. Only those of us with charmed lives can do this. And a few soccer moms over there and the guy at that table. As I pass by, I look at his face closely. He’s really cute, even with the gray hair. He caught me. He’s smiling. I sort of smile/nod back. What’s going on with me? Am I turning into my mother?
“Want to join me?”
I am so not ready for this. Should have put on some makeup. I don’t respond quickly enough, so he fills the space.
“You kayak?”
“Just bought one, but I haven’t even tried it out yet.”
“Cool. Good luck.”
“Thanks.”
“Come on, sit down. I’m a nice guy.”
“I’m sure you are, but I should read this.”
He shrugs. I give him a stupid, pinched smile, sit down at another table and open my magazine. I choose a spot where I can sneak a peek at him every so often. A young woman displaying her DD’s in a tube top comes up behind him and starts to massage his shoulders. He’s into it. I guess it’s his girlfriend. She must be all of twenty-two. What’s it to me?
I look up from my magazine. He smiles and waves. Maybe she’s not his girlfriend. I smile back, take out my phone and call Claudette to guilt her for forgetting my birthday (a totally useless endeavor, but what the hell).
“Hi, it’s me.”
“Can’t talk, busy giving head.”
“But . . .”
She hangs up on me. Oh well. That’s my mother.
I pull into the driveway and unload the new kayak from my Jeep, remembering that just yesterday I was in pantyhose, spending my time with a bunch of bankers. What a difference a day makes! I’m feeling very up-to-the-minute, yet down-to-earth in my Tevas, clutching my kayak. I peer next door hoping that Michael will catch a glimpse of me. No such luck.
I drag the kayak into the house, walk through the kitchen, and into the living room. Whoops! There’s Cole pulling up his pants. We’re both surprised and embarrassed. I drop my kayak.
“What’s going on?”
“I was swimming, with Darcy.”
“Darcy? She’s at school.”
“Uh uh, dude. She’s outside.”
He grabs his shirt and walks to the door.
“Say hi to your dad for me!”
Jesus, where are my priorities? I have a sinking feeling in my gut. Why is Darcy home?
I go out to the back yard where my stunning daughter is drying off. When I haven’t seen her for a while, I forget what a knockout she is. She’s got the perfect combination of Richard and Claudette’s looks. Doesn’t look a thing like me. I look like my dad (as far as I can tell from the old, wrinkled picture I have).
“Mom!”
She runs to me and throws her arms around my neck. I’m caught up in the moment and hug her tightly. Then I remember that she probably isn’t bearing good news, so I retreat.
“I hope you take this the right way, Darcy. I mean, it’s great to see you and all, but what’s going on?”
“Can we talk about it later? I’m really tired.”
She lies down on a lounge chair, curls up in a fetal position. I stroke her hair.
“Just tell me, sweetie.”
“I left school.”
I stop petting her, put my face in my hands and bow my head. I’m really trying to remain calm, but it’s so hard.
“I hated that stupid place. I didn’t fit in. The classes were boring. My roommates were a drag.”
“Meaning what? They didn’t do drugs?”
Can I take that back, please, please, please?
“God, Mom. It had nothing to do with that.”
I deserved that. Good for her. I hope it’s true. Recidivism is so common. Stop it. Get back in the moment.
“So what was wrong?”
Darcy’s looking at me closely. Maybe she figured out that I spoke to the dean about her room assignment. I doubt it. She’s not that clever.
“It was almost like someone put all the nutcases in the same room, next to the R.A. so they could be watched. And I was there because of my former drug use, I suppose.”
She’s sharper than I thought. Guess that’s a good thing. I stay cool as she vents about my not trusting her. I’ve heard it before (ad nauseum).
“That wasn’t the only reason I left. You’re not going to like it. Remember I told you that these guys hang out at the college bars and film the girls doing stuff?”
“Go on.”
Uh oh. That awful terrified feeling is washing over me.
“Yeah, I remember. And remember I told you to stay away because you’re not twenty-one.”
I have to stop being so judgmental. It doesn’t get me anywhere. Darcy sighs and shakes her head.
“There’s nothing else to do in Buttfuck, Florida, Mom, except go to bars. And my new friends invited me to hang out with them. Do you want me to tell you or not?”
Oh please, can I opt out? I nod for her to continue.
“So
