* * *
To: JDixon
From: SCobb
Date: 4/8
Subject: Ye Olde Parent/Teacher Conference
Jennifer,
Conference time is fine. I would like to have helped you and your husband out with the mud run thingy but I have been training at Curves for about two months and I don’t want to do anything that might interfere with my progress.
Shirleen
* * *
Much to my surprise, no one had a problem with their conference time and I filled all five spots for the mini mud run. Besides Kim and Jean-Luc, Hunter’s two moms signed up, and so did Ali Gordon.
When I see her email, it reminds me that I owe Don one. The morning after Flirty-Text-Gate, he wrote me a very nice note explaining that he showed up at Garozzo’s to let me know that he thinks I’m awesome, but not in that way. Apparently he’s been trying to get back together with Ali and all his romantic focus has been on that. He said he really had wanted to meet me for coffee all those times but just to talk to me about her. He told me he loved our texting banter, but never thought of it going beyond that.
* * *
When I got your invitation for sex, I was surprised and flattered. I mean, really flattered. But I knew there was no way it was going to happen. I wanted to talk to you about it in person and not just leave you hanging alone at the restaurant. You’re a great girl and I was worried I had done something to lead you on. Now that I know the texts weren’t meant for me, it all makes sense.
I hope you and Ron were able to laugh it off. He didn’t look too happy, but I’m sure once you explained it to him, he was fine. If not, I’d be happy to talk to him and set him straight.
Cheers,
Don
* * *
Is he kidding me? This is the guy who said he wanted to help me work out. If that’s not flirting, then someone hand me a dictionary. That’s such a guy’s way out. Oh, you didn’t want to have sex with me? Yeah, me either. It was just banter. Right, Don, hold on to that.
I’m not going to lie. Finding out that my little crush was possibly only one-sided all along was a real punch in the boob. I know I said the texts didn’t mean anything and they were just for fun, but the sad truth is that, once again, Don Burgess is not interested in me. At least this time we’re friends—or we were friends; I’m not sure what we are now.
I write Don back a note saying all is well and wasn’t that hilarious and blah blah blah. I wish him luck with Ali and say I’ll see him around.
Good-bye, Suchafox! It was fun while it lasted.
*
April is my favorite month, and not just because it’s my birthday. I love the way the air smells of mud created by the ground thawing. It’s one of the first signs of spring and always makes me think of my childhood.
I take a deep breath before I head into Starbucks for my Asami intervention. I spot her standing in line to order, so I walk up beside her and say, “Okay, what’s your new theory?”
I kind of like the way my relationship with Asami works. There’s no preamble, no fake kisses and chitchat. We just get right down to it.
“It’s Miss Ward,” Asami blurts.
Oh, Jesus, this is going to be worse than I thought.
“My treat today,” she continues. “What would you like?”
“Wow, thanks. I’ll have a tall Peach Tranquility. I’ll go grab the couch for us.”
I settle in and check my phone for messages, hoping for something from Ron, but no luck. He’s still being chilly. When Asami joins me, she places a giant cookie between us. Chocolate may be a no-no for me but I never say no to a chocolate chip cookie.
“Help yourself,” she says as she takes off her sweater.
Who is this woman? Or maybe this has been the real Asami all along and I just never saw it. I decide I need to be kind but firm about her crazy witch-hunt.
“I have to say something to you and I hope you hear me,” I begin. “I really think you’re barking at the moon. I know it’s a bit of a mystery, who this Sasha Lewicki woman really is, but in the grander scheme of things, who cares? Is it hurting Suni in any way? Is it affecting the quality of your day-to-day life? Probably not, so why don’t you just drop it?”
I silently give myself props for my nice little speech. I see that Asami’s frown has formed a small “v” on her forehead and her mouth is poised in an “o.” I take this moment to break off a bit of the cookie and pop it in my mouth, but find to my horror that it’s filled with raisins, not chocolate chips. There are few things in life more disappointing. I would spit it out if that was socially acceptable.
Asami still hasn’t said anything, but she is looking at me.
“I’m sorry. I hope I didn’t hurt your feelings. I just think there are more important things to worry about.”
She nods. “You’re right, there are. I’m not sure why I’m so focused on it.”
“Well, it will definitely go down as one of the great mysteries of room 147,” I proclaim. “That and how Mary Jo Baton landed Jean-Luc for a husband.”
She smiles at my little joke. I think there’s hope for Asami’s sense of humor after all.
*
I gratefully lower myself into bed and place a big bag of ice on my groin. It only bothers me after a long day like the one I just had. Usually Ron would want to fool around tonight, because, just like every man in the world, he thinks sex is the perfect gift to give your wife on her birthday. But the way things have been, I’m really not sure. He was very sweet this morning when he and Max gave me breakfast in bed, but then I didn’t hear from him all day. It was actually fine. I was unexpectedly busy. The girls surprised me on FaceTime by singing the Beatles’ version of “Happy Birthday” with Travis on bass and Raj on tambourine. Later I had lunch with Nina, Peetsa, and Ravi at the place with the signs (Stu’s Diner), where we pigged out on homemade chili and Steph gave me a whole apple pie to take home. Stu’s only had one new sign—a small one hanging over the front door. It said, “If I Wanted to Listen to an Asshole, I’d Fart”
I spent the rest of the afternoon getting my hair cut and blown out, and topped the day off having a really fun dinner with my folks and Max and Ron at Minsky’s. They have the best pizza in KC. Some might say Waldo’s is better, but we’re a Minsky’s family from way back. We always order the same thing—a Papa Minsky’s with pepperoni, Italian sausage, salami, and roasted red peppers. You don’t want to be sleeping with any of us on a Minsky’s night, let me tell you.
So this is forty-eight. All things considered, I’ll take it over twenty-eight any day. Especially my twenty-eight, which saw me living with my parents and raising two small kids. As the great Billy Joel once said, “It’s some kind of miracle that I survived.” This is definitely my time to remember.
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