Troubles and Treats

“I’ll call Claire and let her know you’ll be over in a little bit to get the kids,” Jenny says as she turns and makes her way up the driveway to the house.

I stand there in the driveway long after she’s gone inside, staring over at Fuck Face’s house.

“As God is my witness, I shall never like vanilla again.”

Chapter 19 – Brazilians and FUPAs

I have a headache of mass promotions. Sticking around Veronica’s preschool the whole two hours she’s here probably isn’t the best idea. There’s a parent viewing area with a two-way mirror so we can see the kids but they can’t see us. Unfortunately, we can still hear all twenty-three kids screaming.

“You look like shit,” Liz says as she sits down next to me and hands me a cup of coffee.

Her three-year-old Molly goes to the same preschool as Veronica and usually we alternate who picks up and who takes the kids. Today is Liz’s day but I need a break from work and had decided to spend my free time watching Veronica learn and play.

“I feel like shit. I have the worst headache and Jackson had to cancel our play date yesterday so I didn’t get a nap,” I tell her.

Liz knows all about Jackson ever since she stopped by last week to drop off some hand-me-down clothes from her girls for Veronica. She had walked through the front door to find me asleep on the couch, Jackson giving Billy a bottle, and Veronica sitting next to him watching cartoons.

“I still can’t believe you have a manny,” she says with a laugh as I take a sip of my coffee.

“His name’s not Manny. It’s Jackson. Remember, I introduced you?”

She laughs and shakes her head. “A manny is a male version of a nanny. And as far as I know, they are young and hot and usually g*y. But your manny definitely isn’t giving off the g*y vibe,” she explains.

“He’s not a nanny or a manny or whatever. He’s just a friend helping me out.”

“A hot as f**k friend that I would bang seven weeks to Sunday if I wasn’t married. Oh, who am I kidding? If Jim was a complete loser of a husband and never helped me out around the house or with the kids, I’d still bang him,” she laughs.

I look at her in shock while she laughs and doesn’t even realize that she just summed up my life lately with that one statement.

“It’s a good thing you and Drew are back to f**king like twisted, demented rabbits, right?” she asks with a smile.

Her smile drops as soon as she sees the look on my face.

“Oh no, what the f**k? You guys just had date night four days ago. That was supposed to cure everything. I assumed you looked like death warmed over from having sex in a bounce house or some shit like that. What the hell happened?”

I can feel the tears stinging my eyes and my lip start to quiver, and I know I’m going to break down any second.

“Shit. Don’t cry. Not here. Come on, we’re going for a walk.”

Liz grabs my arm and pulls me up from my chair and drags me out into the school hallway.

We walk down past a few other classrooms and she stops and turns to face me. “Talk.”

I take a deep breath and let it all out in one enormous explosion of truth. Everything I’ve been feeling and have worried about and stressed over for the last few months. It all comes pouring out of me.

“I’m so tired, Liz. I’m physically tired and brainy tired and Drew is just no help at all, and I don’t understand how he can NOT see that I need help or ever even ask me if he can get up with Billy in the middle of the night or change a diaper or fix Veronica lunch or get her ready for school or help me with the other f**king million and one things I’ve got going on,” I complain, as I start pacing in front of Liz. I grab onto a lock of my hair and start twirling it around my finger, something I do when I’m nervous or freaked out. And I’m freaked out right now! I’m also not paying attention to just how fast I’m twirling and before I know it, my finger is stuck in a knot of hair right next to my head.

“My finger’s stuck. MY FINGER’S STUCK!” I yell in a panic.

Liz rushes up to me and puts her hand over my mouth so I stop yelling and tries yanking on my arm with her other hand.

“Mmmmmmmmmffffff!” I mumble-scream into her hand.

Liz huffs and shakes her head at me. “I am going to remove my hand from your mouth. Don’t you dare scream.”

I nod my head at her so she knows I’ll be good, and she slowly removes her hand from my mouth. Once she’s satisfied I’m not going to freak out every classroom in the hallway, she gets to work trying to free my finger from my hair, and I go right back into my complaining.

“All he wants me for is sex and then when I do try and give it to him, he wants to do it the same way we always have, and I think there’s something wrong with me because I just don’t want to do it the same way we always have, and I don’t know if I want to be a dirty whore anymore even though he still wants a whore, and I just didn’t feel right calling him a slut on Saturday but maybe I will next time, but now I don’t even know if there ever WILL be a next time, and Jackson is just so nice and pretty and helpful and he knew immediately that I just wanted sleep and some help, and I don’t know what to do! What the f**k should I do if I don’t want to be a dirty whore anymore, Liz?!”

The sound of someone coughing stops my rant and Liz and I both turn to see one of the teachers from the kindergarten class standing behind us with a line of kids, everyone staring at us with eyes wide and mouths open. Twenty five-year-olds are looking at me like I’m crazy and who knows, I probably am. I think I’m cranking up. I’m going to have to leave my kids and go live in a nut house with my finger still stuck in my hair and I don’t even LIKE nuts. ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">