Class Mom

“No!” I laugh. Only Nina.

“I’m just sayin’—they’re both good-looking women. Would a guy think it was hot?”

“Probably. Not really the point I was getting at, though.”

“This is seriously good gossip.”

“You promised you wouldn’t say anything,” I remind her.

“I won’t. Wait, can I tell Garth?”

“Of course.” I know I’ll be giving Ron a play-by-play later.

Nina looks past me toward the parking lot.

“We should get back. Garth is giving me the ‘Mayday’ sign.”

While Nina goes to rescue Garth, I check in with Max, who is still manning the Gatorade table with Chyna.

“Hey, guys. Having fun?”

“Mom, I’m hungry. Can Chyna and I go to McDonald’s?” I can see Max is losing interest in his job, and the golden arches next door are acting like a bat signal on him. Let’s see, Pop Tarts for breakfast and now McDonald’s for lunch. I hope Child Protective Services isn’t watching.

“I guess so,” I say. “But I don’t have my purse with me.”

“I have money from my mom,” Chyna assures me.

“Okay. Well, don’t eat too much if you’re going to do the course later.”

“We won’t,” they say together, and head off.

The event is going strong. People are still lined up to do the course, and the announcer has started to play great motivational tunes like “We Will Rock You” by Queen. I smile to myself, because I’m happy for Ron. This is a real win for him.

I pass Ali Gordon limping to her car and realize we’d never finished our conversation.

“Are you okay?” I ask her.

“Yeah, I’m fine, it’s just my calves are starting to seize up. I think I should have trained a bit for this.”

“As someone who did nothing but train, I’m going to agree with you. Need some help?” I lean toward her.

She gives a resigned laugh and puts her arm over my shoulder. “I guess I do, thanks.”

I support her around the waist and we start walking. I’m generally a nice and helpful person, but I’m not going to pretend I don’t have an ulterior motive. I want to see if I can get Ali to spill the beans about her and Don. I’m in no shape to be clever or crafty, so I just come straight out with it.

“So, what’s your deal with Don?”

She sags a bit more into me.

“I’m sorry I said that earlier. I just get frustrated sometimes.”

“Why?”

She sighs. “Look, he’s a good guy. He’s just really…” She’s searching for a word, but I don’t have any suggestions.

“He’s Peter Pan,” she finishes.

“He dresses in green and flies around the city?” It’s a joke, but apparently not to Ali.

“I mean, he has Peter Pan syndrome. He doesn’t want to grow up.”

“Really? I don’t get that from him at all.”

“Why would you? You haven’t had to raise a kid with him.”

I think about that for a second.

“Is he not involved with Lulu’s life? I mean, he shows up for all the school stuff.”

“Yeah, that’s a recent development. Now that she walks and talks and communicates, all of a sudden he wants to be Dad. When she was a baby, forget it.”

“That’s rough. Why did you guys have a kid to begin with?”

She gives a bitter guffaw.

“The condom broke.”

“No!” I gasp. “Oh, my God, that actually happens? I always think of it as an urban myth like the alligators that live in the New York sewers.”

This she does laugh at. “Nope. Not a myth. We had only been dating a few months when it happened. That’s my car.” She points to a beige Hyundai parked on the corner. She takes her arm from around my neck and fishes her key fob out of her fanny pack. But I’m not letting her leave just yet.

“And you wanted to keep the baby, of course.”

“We both did. I mean, Don was forty-two at the time and I was in my late thirties, so we thought why not, you know? He wanted to get married, but I held off on that, thank God. I was like, ‘What’s the rush?’ Don was really into it until Lulu was born, and then reality set in.”

“Oh, God,” is all I can think of to say.

“He freaked out.” She sighs and leans against her car. “He was actually jealous of all the attention Lulu got. He really didn’t get it. We started fighting all the time, so I told him if he couldn’t accept that he wasn’t the child anymore then he should just stay away.”

“And did he?”

“Yes!” she yells. “Can you believe it? I didn’t see him for, like, three years.”

“What an asshat.” I can’t help but think how lucky I am to have Ron “I’ll change the diaper” Dixon.

“My parents live in Des Moines, so they weren’t much help. I was on welfare for a while. I mean, it really sucked.”

“When did he come back?” This conversation is making me remember how tough it was carting Vivs around Europe while I was pregnant with Laura. Now there’s a book I should write.

“You won’t believe me.”

“Try me.”

“We met speed dating.”

“What?”

She nods her head with wide eyes.

“Of all the gin joints, right? When he sat down in front of me I nearly spat my drink out.”

“What did you say to him?” I’m completely spellbound.

“I actually said, ‘Of all the gin joints.’” She shrugs. “We agreed to meet afterward, and he claimed he wanted back in Lulu’s life.”

“So you let him?”

“Not right away. I mean, the guy was AWOL for three years. If he’d wanted back in so badly, he could have called or emailed anytime. I always wonder what would have happened if I hadn’t gone to that stupid dating thing.”

I give her another way to look at it.

“But it’s kind of romantic. Like it was meant to be.”

“I guess. He’s been around a lot. It’s been great having help with Lulu, especially money help. And, I don’t know if you know this, but he’s really good with kids.”

“I actually witnessed that firsthand on a field trip.”

“He’s a natural. It makes me sad for him that he missed all those years with Lulu.”

“Do you guys date other people?”

“I’m not sure what he does, but I haven’t had a date in two years. That’s why I want to get in shape, you know? Stop looking like something the cat dragged in.”

I definitely knew where she was coming from. After I had Max, “dumpy” was the only real way to describe me. That’s why I joined Curves. I consider suggesting it to Ali.

“You’re hardly something the cat dragged in,” I assure her. “Have you guys ever considered getting back together?”

Ali opens her car door and groans loudly as she eases herself into the driver’s seat. “Don talks about it, but I don’t know. I’m still getting over being mad at him.”

I nod.

She starts her car. “Thanks for the help.”

“Epsom salt bath and Advil,” I advise. “For the pain.”





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