“Maybe I’ll just go anyway.”
Now that she’d completely healed she went out often, which was sometimes a relief; I only had to take care of him instead of him and her. This made me smile because I was so like a housewife from the 1950s; she was my big lug. Could that be a nickname?
“You’re my Big Lug.”
“Yeah.”
“And I’m your Boo.”
“Right.”
Except she wasn’t like a husband from the 1950s, because she didn’t bring home the bacon. She tried to get her job at Ralphs back, but there was a new person in charge of hiring now—a woman. Put out feelers, I said. Just put them out, you never know. She put out one feeler, a text to Kate: Know of any jobs??????????
DESPITE MY EXHAUSTION I SHAVED off all my pubic hair on May 17th, the night before the last day of the eighth week; I was pretty sure she would prefer this to my salt and pepper. Suzanne remembered the special day too and sent me a text in its honor: Please reconsider.
On the night of the 18th I put Jack in the carrier and walked him around and around the block until he was solidly asleep. I lowered him into the crib and kept my hands on his head and feet for a count of ten, then lifted them away in one smooth motion and tiptoed out of the ironing room. I brushed my hair behind my ears, put on the sheer pink “curtains,” and left my door open.
It was a little bit of a relief when she didn’t come in. I didn’t want sex to take over our lives—R movies and rubber equipment and all that. Every once in a while I checked the chalkboard to see if there were any new tally marks. None yet, but the little purple one was still there. I flipped through the calendar counting the weeks until July 4. When he smiled everything else would fall into place, tally marks would grow like grass.
AS IT TURNED OUT, KATE’S mother’s sister was a party planner with a catering crew.
“It’s a real job,” Clee said, “not like Ralphs. It’s a career.”
“So she’s Kate’s aunt?”
Jack erupted loudly in his diaper.
“It’s her mother’s sister. My dream is to learn everything and then start my own company.”
“A party-planning company?”
“Not necessarily, but maybe. That’s one idea. Rachel who’s on the crew is going to start a company that does popcorn in flavors. She already has all the popcorn. It’s in her room.”
“Do you want to do it?” I put Jack in her arms.
“What?”
“Change him.”
When it had been eight weeks and seven days I shaved again and put on the curtains. Because if you didn’t count the first week, which she probably didn’t, then this would be the last night of the eighth week.
After that night I didn’t shave again.
FOR THE CATERING EVENTS SHE had to wear a white tuxedo shirt and a caterer’s black bow tie. She looked incredible, of course; that’s why she’d been hired. The first night she got home at two A.M.
“They made such a mess—I’ve been cleaning for hours,” she moaned.
She noisily unloaded a paper bag full of half-drunk bottles of champagne and cupcakes and a stack of napkins with ZAC & KIM printed on them.
“Shhh.” I pointed furiously at the baby monitor. It had taken four laps around the block to get him to sleep.
She dropped the empty paper bag like a hot potato.
“Okay, I have to say something.”
Her face was strange and serious. My stomach dropped. She was breaking up with me.
“When I tell you things? You don’t always seem very interested. Like, you don’t ask questions and that makes me feel like you don’t care. Don’t smile. Why are you smiling?”
“I’m sorry. I am interested. What wasn’t I interested in?”
“Well, and this is just one example off the top of my head, when I was telling you about Rachel’s flavored popcorn company that she’s gonna have? You didn’t ask anything about that.”
“Right, I see what you’re saying. I think maybe in that one particular case you gave a very complete picture so there weren’t any questions left to ask.”
“I can think of a question.”
“What?”
“What flavors? That would be the first question that an actually interested person would ask.”
“Okay. You’re right.”
She shifted, waiting.
“What flavors?”
“See, that’s the whole thing: papaya, milk, chocolate milk, gum—all stuff like that. Have you ever had gum popcorn?”
“No. I’ve had gum and I’ve had popcorn, but not—”
“Not as one thing.”
“Never as one thing.”
Two A.M. was early. Sometimes the parties ended at three and she cleaned until five. Once she and Rachel had to drive a marble podium to Orange County at four in the morning so Kate’s mother’s sister wouldn’t have to pay the rental fee for another day. Sometimes she was drunk when she got home, which was just part of the job.
“Because there’s so many leftover beverages,” she slurred.
She unbuttoned her tuxedo shirt and pumped out the alcoholic milk. Hutz-pa, hutz-pa, hutz-pa. I poured it down the drain and she gave me a peck. Then another, longer kiss that tasted funny.
She watched my face. “Tastes like tequila?”
I nodded.
“You like it?”
“I’m not a big drinker.”
“Well, we gotta get you drunk sometime, lady.”