“You bet,” Don answers quickly. “Jen tripped and I was just helping her steady herself.”
He gives my arms a squeeze and lets me go. Ron walks right between us and takes my arm.
“Thanks, man, I’ve got her.”
Don gives us a thumbs-up and walks back toward the foyer.
“Are you okay?” Ron’s raised eyebrow tells me he’s not pleased.
“I still have to pee,” I admit. At the same time I take off my heels and hand them to him.
“Here, hold these so I don’t fall again.”
He takes the shoes, points me in the direction of the bathroom, and closes the door. I hike up my skirt, sit down, and take the whiz of a lifetime.
“Holy shit holy shit holy shit,” I whisper to myself. Did that really just happen? I start to giggle. Suddenly I’m seventeen all over again and thrilled that Suchafox just spoke to me. This is too much for my inebriated brain to process. I flush, turn to the sink, and splash cold water on my face. One look in the mirror tells me that my waterproof mascara is actually not. I have two lovely black tears streaking down my cheeks.
“Crap.” I grab one of the fancy towels and do my best to clean up my face. I really need to go home.
Heading out to the foyer, I see Ron, Peetsa, Buddy, and Don chatting with their coats on. Ron is holding mine plus my shoes.
“Feel better?” he asks, helping me into my coat.
I don’t say anything, but I smile and put my arm through his. We say our good nights and I manage to escape without making eye contact with Don.
*
I’m trying to find the words to describe how I feel. It’s like someone has stuffed a wool sock in my mouth and pulled a rubber glove over my head. Ugh. Champagne hangovers are the worst. Why do I always forget that?
As I attempt to get up the courage to roll out of bed and relieve my bladder, the door bursts open and Ron and Max come charging in.
“Good afternoon, Mommy!” Ron sings at the top of his lungs.
Max jumps up to give me a crushing hug.
“Mom, you slept for so long! It’s already lunchtime.”
My stomach starts to turn at the thought of food. Ron hands me a giant cup of coffee.
“I put a little hair of the dog in there for you.” He smiles and sits on the bed.
The thought of putting more alcohol into my system makes me want to throw up, but I give him a grateful smile.
“You put dog hair in Mom’s coffee? Where did you get it from? Wait, are we getting a dog?” Max screams the last part, and my head nearly splits in two. Oh, my God, is this going to be a long day.
“No dog, sorry, champ. Let’s let Mom get dressed and we can go pick up lunch, okay?” Ron starts to pull him off the bed.
“Dad says you’re going to want Burger King for lunch, but I said no way because you always say we don’t eat garbage.”
“Well, today it looks like we will.” I give Max the most enthusiastic smile I can muster.
There’s nothing like a greasy burger when you have a hangover. That’s pretty much all I took away from my four years at KU.
It isn’t until I’m sitting on the toilet that the events of last night come crashing back to me. I hold my head in my hands and replay the scene outside the powder room. Boy, I am not the girl I used to be. The old Jen would have grabbed that man and kissed the shit out of him. But the girl who slept her way around Europe wasn’t married, nor was she in love. And I really do love my husband. I don’t want to be attracted to someone else. And yet, here I am.
I go back to my bed and call Nina. No answer, as usual. She’s still in the dark place. I pause a moment, then dial Peetsa, but hang up before she answers. I’ve got to talk to someone about this, but I’m not sure how Peetsa will react. Damn it, Nina! Why can’t you get your shit together so I can lose mine?
*
We are chowing down on burgers and fries in the kitchen when I realize I’m feeling a bit better. Max can’t believe his luck. He’s actually having fast food and it isn’t someone’s birthday.
“Can we do this every Sunday?” he asks hopefully.
“Not a chance,” Ron says, although I’m sure he would be okay with it if I weren’t around to say no.
I glance over at my kitchen-counter office and play with the idea of checking my email. I’m wondering how much crap I’m going to get for last night’s party turning into an episode of Home Shopping Network. Maybe none. I mean it’s not like I invited everyone … Oh, wait. While I’m wondering who painted “Sucker” on me, I boot up my iMac with the twenty-seven-inch screen (go big or go home, baby!) and check my email.
Holy shit storm.
* * *
To: JDixon
From: AChang
Date: 12/13
Subject: Class-less party
Jen,
I can’t say I’m surprised that you chose to turn a lovely class party into a jewelry sale. It’s pretty much what we have all come to expect from you as class mom. I know some people enjoy your “wacky” emails and generally lax attitude toward the job, but last night was the last straw. Do you even realize that people felt obligated to buy that overpriced junk? I only hope the money is going to charity. But I have to say there will be no more charity for you. I plan to take this straight to Principal Jakowski first thing tomorrow.
Asami
* * *
Well, that was expected. I’ll bet she was composing this in her head while smiling at me over her champagne glass.
* * *
To: JDixon
From: SCobb
Date: 12/13
Subject: Class party
Jennifer,
I’m surprised at you. What would make you think anyone wanted to go to a party so they could spend money? Such a tacky idea.
Shirleen
* * *
I’m surprised she didn’t mention the fact that there were no gluten-free hors d’oeuvres.
* * *
To: JDixon
From: CAlexander
Date: 12/13
Subject: About last night …
Jen,
I’m glad you organized the party last night, but was selling the jewelry really necessary? Being asked to fork out money for some really crappy stuff kind of put a damper on the whole night.
The lesbians are disappointed.
Carol (and Kim)
* * *
Ouch. That one hurt. Now the cool moms think I’m a jerk. I scroll through the rest of the emails—ten in total—and pretty much get the same message from each of them. Then I get to the one from Kim Fancy, which is addressed to the whole class.
* * *
To: Parents
From: KFancy
Date: 12/13
Subject: Oh, what a night!
Hello, friends,
I hope everyone enjoyed themselves last night. It was certainly a pleasure to have you all to our home.
I want to send a special thanks to our class mom, Jen Dixon, for organizing such a unique and fun gathering. Good job, Jen!
See everyone at the holiday concert!
Love,
Kim
* * *
I’m contemplating how to respond to the class when one last email catches my eye and the Whopper I inhaled earlier does a flip-flop in my stomach.
* * *
To: JDixon
From: DBurgess
Date 12/13
Subject: Last night
Jen,
Nice bumping into you in the bathroom! Let’s have coffee sometime.
Don
* * *