A Conflicted Woman Page 5
“Can I sign up for one? I mean you’ve said much worse to me and not just tonight.” Before I could suggest a sexier apology, she cut me off.
“Honestly. What do you think about Troy?”
I sighed, carefully venturing back into the Troy zone. “Your mom seems to like him and vice versa.”
“Is that your way of telling me to back off?” The hardness in her voice could almost be used as an axe.
Undeterred, I said, “Switch roles. What would you tell me if it was my mom?”
She assailed my gut with her elbow. “Sometimes I prefer the clueless Lizzie.”
“She has her moments.” I rolled Sarah onto her back. “Everything’s going to be okay. Your mom isn’t an idiot—”
Sarah started to speak, but I smothered her lips with my mouth. “You taste like grappa.” I smacked my lips.
“That’s better than tasting like a grandma.”
I laughed. “Before we’re ready, we’ll have our own grandkids. Does that mean I shouldn’t kiss you then?”
She goggled at me. “If you’re trying to cheer me up, you’re failing.”
“How’s this?” I planted a soft kiss on her cheek.
“Better, but do you know what would really do the trick?”
“Do tell,” I said in a sexy voice.
She flopped onto her stomach, spreading out her arms. “Back rub.”
“I think you’re taking advantage of the situation.”
“And your point is…? Focus on my lower back.” As if I was unfamiliar with her anatomy, she tapped the area. “Next time, you can carry Ollie all day.”
I spanked her butt. “Don’t be cruel about our daughter.”
“I’m not. She’s absolutely gorgeous, but she does weigh more than Fred. Nothing wrong with it. She’s going to be the enforcer on the playground, that’s for sure. The world needs strong women, and we’re raising a fierce one.”
“Do you want to take your top off?”
“Nah. I’m too tired.” To emphasize this, she released an exaggerated breath.
“I remember the days when you slept naked.” I suppressed a woe is me sigh.
“That was BK, also known as Before Kids. I don’t want to rush to the twins aid in the middle of the night with my boobs flopping around, sending them to therapy for the rest of their lives.” She wiggled her butt for me to get busy.
I hoisted Sarah’s tank top up and dug my fingers into her lower back. She let out a guttural moan.
“Now that feels good,” she said. “Keep it up.”
“Can we circle back to the naked sleeping conversation?”
“As long as your magic fingers don’t stop.”
“Never fear.” To prove my point, I increased my efforts. “You can always put on a robe before dashing down the hall. Maybe I can ask Gabe to help me construct a device by the door so you’ll have easy access. Like a mom superhero thingy.” I made a mental note to watch superhero movies for tips.
She laughed. “Why Gabe?”
“Out of all the men in the family, he seems the handiest, which isn’t saying much.”
“Do you really want me to sleep in the nude again?” Her voice was teasing.
“I absolutely do. Your boobs don’t traumatize me, although being deprived of seeing and feeling them every night might tip me over the edge.”
Sarah motioned for me to get out of her way to allow her to roll over. “What does that mean, really? Tip you over to find your jollies elsewhere?”
I bonked the top of my head with my palm. “Not at all.” I tapped her forehead with a finger. “When will you get this through that thick skull of yours? I think you’re the sexiest woman, and I miss you.”
Her eyes misted. “I need help feeling that way again.”
The next morning, after losing Roshambo the third straight day in a row, I walked out onto our deck, freshly showered. Who knew feeding kids could be so messy?
Sarah and Bailey had set up a small plastic table under the oak tree for the twins to finger paint. A well-used canvas drop cloth protected the deck.
“Get the oatmeal out of your hair?” Sarah teased.
I ran a hand through my wet hair. “I think so. Not sure about my ears, though.” I cleaned one out with a finger. “If I’d known it was art day, I would have delayed my shower.”
Sarah, with red fingerprints on her cheeks, heaved a shoulder. “Maybe we should invest in Dove.”
“Or invent a roving shower for parents.” Bailey was creating her own masterpiece with Fred’s help. Sarah hadn’t reached the level of comfort yet to leave Bailey alone with the kids for long stretches, and Bailey’s initial shifts had been more like a helper bee letting the twinks get used to her.
“That’s what the hose is for.” Sarah’s tone didn’t hold an inkling of humor.
Freddie held his rainbow-colored fists in the air, giggling.
“Let me see.” I hunched down to inspect his creation. “Wow! This is great. I really like what you did in this corner.” I pointed to the green handprint. “A bold statement. Bold,” I repeated slowly. I swiveled to Ollie and her artwork. “How beautiful! Your use of red is striking. Red.” Ollie smeared paint on top of her head, tingeing the spattering of blonde hairs.
Sarah and Bailey exchanged a look at my repetition of words.
I kissed both twins on the top of their heads, quickly followed by rubbing my lips with the back of my hand to remove any trace of paint. Standing up, I said, “I’ll be back in a few hours.”
“When you get home, I thought we’d take the twins for a bike ride.” Sarah cleaned Freddie’s hand with a wet wipe.
“It’s a date.” I blew a kiss to both twins and Sarah. “Bailey, do you need anything from campus?” I asked, sounding overly hopeful.
“Nope, thanks.” She avoided my eyes.
As far as I could determine, she hadn’t purchased any textbooks or been to campus to find her classes, which started in less than five days.
“You look very professorial today.” Sarah’s tone conveyed the polar opinion.
I glanced down at my shorts, flip-flops, and green T-shirt that read: If History Repeats Itself, I’m Getting a Dinosaur, a birthday gift from Maddie. “Don’t be jealous of my cool factor.”
“I’ll try to curb myself. Wave goodbye, Twinkies.” Sarah exaggerated her wave to get the twins to copy her.
Both did, accompanied with adorable baby giggles I never tired of hearing.
“Now I don’t want to leave them.”
Ollie’s face morphed into a strawberry, and she belted out a blood-curdling wail.
“Gotta run.” I tossed a wave over my retreating shoulders.
Sarah hollered, “Coward!”
In my office, I quickly dashed off emails and finalized the remaining syllabus. This semester I was teaching three undergraduate courses: The History of the Weimar Republic, On the German Home Front, and The Nazi Propaganda Machine.
“Good morning, Jean.” I smiled at the ancient admin dwarfed by her mahogany desk.
“Ah, Lizzie, I was hoping you’d stop in today.” Her voice wavered, and I wondered how many more years she had left in this role or life.
“Problem?”
She shook her head. “Nothing like that. Dr. Murphy, one of the faculty advisors for the History Club has stepped down. Dr. Marcel thought you might be interested.”
I could smell the frame-up job. “Oh… that’s interesting.” Did Dr. Marcel hate me?
“Quite,” she said dryly. “Can I add your name to the website?” She held a fountain pen in the air, making me wonder how she intended to update the Internet page.
“It would be an honor.” I wanted to add, “Can you please call the mother of my twins, who at this moment is covered head to toe with finger paints, to explain I had no choice in taking on more responsibility?” Actually, given the twins’ attention span, finger painting was more than likely in the past.
“Thought you’d say that.” She had the audacity
to wink at me.
“Anything else?” A liver, kidney, full blood transfusion?
“If you need anything printed for the first day of class, I suggest you get it in before one o’clock.”
I flaunted the papers in my hand. “Last one. Have a lovely day, Jean.”
“You, too. Love the shirt, by the way. When I was a kid, I had a brontosaurus as a pet.” Her laughter turned into a cough. Once it settled, she added, “Give those babies a kiss from me.”
I flashed my will do wave on my way out the door before I got strong-armed into another dreaded role. History Club. Even when I was an undergrad, I never joined the nerd fest. This would seriously impede on my cool-points scale. Maybe Maddie could track down more snazzy T-shirts to help tip the scale. Wasn’t branding the rage these days?
We stopped at a picnic table outside a popular ice cream shop conveniently located next to the bike trail.
“What can I get my princesses and prince?” I rubbed my hands together.
“What if Freddie wants to be a princess?” Sarah, with a twin on each thigh, cocked her head in that way of hers.
“Who said I was calling Fred a prince?”
She smiled. “Vanilla for me and the twinks.”
“Probably best for their first time now that they’re a year and can have whole milk.”
“I have a feeling your first was the definition of vanilla.” She arched an eyebrow, daring me to contradict her.
“Really? In front of our children?” I shook a fist at her.
“They probably understand the shake of your fist more than my words.” Sarah waved for me not to waste time given that Ollie was behaving.
Within moments, I had two vanilla cones. “I’ll take Prince Olivia.”
Exchanging Ollie while simultaneously giving Sarah her cone was awkward at best.
“You’d think we’d be better with that by now.” Sarah licked ice cream that had dribbled down her hand.
I sat on the bench opposite Sarah, settling Ollie onto my left leg. “Do you want some ice cream, baby girl?”
“Wait!” Sarah boosted her hand to stop me. “I feel like we should say something.”
“They aren’t marrying the ice cream.” I laughed.
“Be careful, Lizzie, or you won’t get any. Not even vanilla style.”
“Are you threatening to withhold S-E-X from me in front of our innocent babes?” I raised one shoulder to imply what gives?
“Take it how you want. Okay.” She glanced down at Freddie, who was more interested in bunching the front of Sarah’s shirt with both fists than the ice cream. “Hold on to your socks, Fred.”
“That’s your speech to commemorate this momentous moment?”
“Say that five times super fast.”
Ollie reached for the cone, nearly toppling the scoop.
“Hold on to your socks, Ollie,” I said, smiling at my wife and Freddie. I fished my phone out of my pocket and captured a photo of the two of them, with the foothills and blue sky in the background. Then I huddled down and snapped a photo of me and Ollie, who’d already owned the ice cream. “There was a day when I thought baby spit gross.” I licked the ice cream oozing down the side.
“Yes, I think I remember those days.” Sarah placed the cone in front of Freddie’s lips, and he took a tentative swipe with his tongue, scrunching his face. “Seriously, your son is weird. Who doesn’t like ice cream?”
“He has a discerning palate; that’s all. Just you wait. Soon, he’ll school us on what wine to pair with oysters.”
“Oysters!” She laughed. “I know geography isn’t your specialty, but we’re landlocked. Or, are you talking about the Rocky Mountain variety?”
“Maybe with the right drink, fried cow balls would taste… okay.” I bit down on my bottom lip.
“A ringing endorsement.” She held her phone in the air. “Say cheese, you two.”
“Oh my God!” There was a handclap. “All of you are adorable.”
I cringed, hearing Jorie’s voice behind me.
“Hey, Jorie.” Sarah tried again to coax Freddie to sample the treat to no avail. She motioned for me to swap with her since mine was half gone and hers was barely started. “I don’t need the calories,” she said as explanation. Not that she had to. Many times, Sarah had mentioned her fears she’d never lose the baby weight, even though she already had. Yet, it seemed fruitless to argue with her.
“Do you work here?” I asked Jorie.
“What gave her away? The shop’s T-shirt or hat?” Sarah asked.
Jorie laughed. “Yeah. It’s really helped me define my arms—well, the right one.” She mimicked scooping ice cream.
Sarah admired the bicep and then glanced down at her arm. “Maybe I should get a job here.”
In my head, I screamed, “You’re not fat!”
“What are you talking about?” Jorie gave Sarah the once-over. “I’d kill for a body like yours.”
“Thank you,” I said. “When I tell her that, she ignores me.”
“Were you talking?” Sarah said to me with mock surprise, prompting a laugh from Jorie.
“You two are a riot.” She donned the hat. “I have to run. Next time come when I’m working, and it’ll be on the house. Oh, Lizzie, cute shirt.”
Sarah, Freddie, and I waved goodbye. Ollie was otherwise occupied smooshing the cone with her fingers. I dabbed my thighs with a napkin. “I think this may be the first and last time I wear this shirt.”
“I’m surprised you wore it at all.”
“It’s that bad?” I tugged on the front to get a better view.
“The opposite, it’s adorable and funny.”
“Two things I’m not?” I narrowed my eyes in what I hoped was menacing fashion.
Unperturbed, Sarah said, “Oh, you’re coming around some. Having a family agrees with you.” Her smile was genuine.
Ollie succeeded in dumping ice cream all over my lap again. Doing my best to clean her fingers and my shorts with a previously used napkin, I asked, “Do you think there’s something off with her?”
“Show me a one-year-old who doesn’t play with her food.” Sarah added, “Aside from Fred, who doesn’t like food at all.” She handed me a wet wipe from the mom bag strapped to the bike leaning against the picnic table.
“Not Ollie. Jorie.” I made another go of cleaning Ollie and myself.
“You mean because there’s a chance she has a crush on you?”
“Yes.” I nodded a little too much.
Sarah tossed her cone into the trash can behind her. “We’re quite the pair. I can’t stop obsessing about my weight, and you assume anyone who thinks you’re cute is an escapee from the lunatic asylum.”
“Do you think she is?” I asked.
Sarah took a moment to ponder the question. “No. I don’t think she likes you, likes you.”
“Thanks,” I said with a hint of snark, although I was relieved. “How is she suddenly everywhere, though?”
Sarah’s laughter was pleasant. “If you’re worried she’s a stalker, don’t be. I don’t get the stalker or even obsessive vibe that can sometimes happen between a student and professor. If I had to hazard a guess, I think she’s lost and is trying to find her sense of self. Unfortunately, she’s probably learned to rely on drawing attention to her good looks to mask her insecurity. Maybe she’s a lesbian or bi but hasn’t come to terms with it. And you’re her role model.” Sarah’s teasing tone implied God help her.
“Maybe she should join the History Club, then.” I popped the tip of the cone into my mouth before Ollie had a chance to crush it.
“Because that’s the hip place for college students to come out?” Sarah’s eyes shone with confusion.
“She’s not that young. Twenty-three.”
She slanted her head. “What aren’t you telling me?”
I sighed. “Guess who’s the newest faculty member of the History Club?”
Her eyes tapered to nearly closed. “You’re joking.”
“Why in the world did you volunteer for that? You’ve already committed yourself to churning out three peer-reviewed articles, one more than last year, and drafting the next book this school year.”
I cupped my ear. “I’m sorry, did you say volunteer? I’m not the type to jump up and down shouting, ‘I’ll do it’ when asked to take on extra responsibility with little to no recognition. That’s more your style. Dr. Marcel and Jean tricked me. Or, at least, Jean did.”
“How did an eighty-year-old woman trick you?”
“Hey, Dr. Marcel is almost as old, although he’s not looking forward to retiring at the end of the school year. History is that cool.” I shifted Ollie to my other leg.
“Uh-huh. Ever since I was a little girl, I dreamed of marrying a history professor.” Sarah batted her eyelashes.
“And I made your dream come true. You see that kids? I opted to ignore Mommy’s sarcasm. Always take the higher road.” Ollie giggled. “Shall we get back on the bikes?” I said in hopes of ending the History Club conversation.
“Why? They’re behaving, and it’s a nice spot.” She jerked her head to the creek on the other side of the bike trail. A family of five zoomed by on their bikes, clearly in a race. “Besides, I’m not ready to battle Ollie to get her helmet on.”
“Fair point. Maybe we can call your mom to pick up the twins.”
Sarah moved to straddle the bench. Bouncing Freddie on her leg, she said, “Can you see the gap in the mountain?”
Ollie wanted off my lap. She led me by the hand, still unsteady on her chubby legs, to the other side of the table. Upon reaching her sibling, she pinched Freddie’s leg, not hard enough to warrant much of a response.
“Such a pot stirrer.” Sarah shook her head. “Let’s show them the creek. We can leave the bikes here for a moment. No one is going to steal bikes overloaded with baby stuff.”
At the creek, the two of us sat on a large rock, a twin in each of our laps. “Why can’t every day be like this? Not too hot or cold. Endless blue skies. You, me, and the twinks.” I raised Ollie’s arms in the air, and she howled in delight.