“Gee, I—” She stopped and shooed Tucker toward his cubby—on the opposite end of the wall from Rocco’s, mind you. “Have a good day, sweetie!” she called after him and then turned her smile back to me. “We usually seem to have lots of things scheduled on the weekends, but I’ll check our calendar and get back to you. Sorry, I really do have to run. It was nice meeting you.” And she was gone.
Note to self: arrange playdates via e-mail in the future.
Taking my own advice, I stopped in Mellie’s office on the way out the door to get a list of e-mail addresses for a few more moms. Armed with new candidates, I drove to work mentally drafting my incredibly charming e-mails I would send over my lunch hour to secure a friend for Rocco.
By the following Monday it was evident that the moms at daycare were all big fat bitches. Okay, maybe that was a bit harsh. It’s hard to accurately judge tone over e-mail, and I certainly hadn’t e-mailed every daycare mom, but still. What were all these kids doing on the weekends that they couldn’t squeeze in an hour or two to play? Was there some big Mensa convention I didn’t know about? More likely, there was a giant sale at the mall on child-sized penny loafers and actual polo ponies. Okay, that was a bit judgy.
By the time I got the fifth rejection e-mail the picture was becoming clearer. All these kids had been in school together since they were in diapers. They had their little established playgroup and apparently the membership roster was all filled up. It was like Heathers for the nose-picker set.
I supposed I could try to reach out to some of the parents from Rocco’s old school but that just seemed even more awkward. If he hadn’t played with their kids when he had seen them every day, why would they want their kids to come over to play now?
Grrr!
My internal rant was interrupted by the sudden appearance of Annette’s curly head over my cubicle wall. “I have the perfect guy for you,” she announced. “I’m setting you up and I will not take no for an answer.”
“Um, hello to you too.”
Annette continued without acknowledging me, “His name is Alex and he’s twenty-nine. He has a seven-year-old daughter—divorced—him, not his daughter. He just started at Dan’s work and he is really cute. I made Dan grill him about his personal life and he is, quote, ‘feeling like I’m ready to start dating again.’ It’s perfect, but I promised Dan I’d get your permission before giving him your number. Say yes.” She pushed her glasses up on her nose and put on an overly bright smile while nodding her head and trying to get me to follow suit.
I guess I could use a distraction. What the hell.
“Fine.”
Week two of Gavin’s job and he was still employed—woohoo! We had just finished an early dinner and I was determined to get Rocco in the bathtub tonight if it killed me. It had been a couple days—all right, five days, don’t judge me—since he’d bathed and he was getting ripe. In between showing Rocco mouthfuls of mashed potatoes at the dinner table, Gavin had shared a few details of his day.
In my mind it played out like a little show I called Gavin Goes to Work, such was my excitement about his new job. There was even a jaunty theme song—I understand, I need a hobby. My brother may be an idiot, but he was my idiot, and when it came down to it I just wanted him to be happy. It sounded like the job was going pretty well and his overall good mood boded really well.
I was just about to start the bath water when the doorbell chimed a painful warbling sound. One more item to add to the growing fixer-upper list.
“Gav!” I yelled to my brother. “Can you start Rocco’s bath for me?” I headed for the front door.
On the front porch was a tow-headed boy who looked to be around Rocco’s age, standing next to a smiling woman with auburn hair pulled back in a ponytail. The woman was tall, probably three inches taller than my 5’5”, and she was dressed in black yoga pants and a dry-fit workout shirt in a bright fuchsia. The boy was holding a toy gun in one hand and a—hmm, was that a machete?—in the other. He smiled up at me with a gummy grin, his two front teeth missing.
“Hi there!” the woman greeted with a very thick Southern accent—not North Carolina thick, Texas thick. “I’m Charlotte Baker, your neighbor from just down the street.” She pointed to her left. “This is my son, Aiden. We just wanted to introduce ourselves and welcome y’all to the neighborhood!”
“Do you like guns?” Aiden asked me.
“Hush,” Charlotte said. “Sorry, his grandpa collects antique guns.”
Understanding the world of young boys, I glossed right over it and put out my hand. “Hey, I’m Laney Monroe. It’s nice to meet you. I have a five-year-old son so I’m familiar.”
“Oh, that’s great!” Charlotte shook my hand—no limp fish evident. “Did you hear that, Aiden?” Then back to me, “I’ll bet they’d get along real well then. Aiden’s six.”
Ding ding ding! Was that the sound of a playdate calling?
“I’m sure they would,” I returned, before briefly considering calling Rocco out for an introduction. The likelihood that he’d emerge from the hall naked stopped me, though, as it would prove a tad more awkward than NRA talk. “We’ll have to arrange something.” I made sure to keep my smile just this side of crazy. Sorry, lady, you’re not getting off my porch without a commitment.
“Did you know that a samurai sword can cut a man’s hand off in one swing?” asked Aiden.
Charlotte’s plummeting comfort level was palpable. “What has your daddy been lettin’ you watch on YouTube?”
Eyes on the prize, I let it slide like water off a duck’s back. “Whatever it is, I’m sure my brother has let Rocco watch worse. Boys will be boys and all that.” Good grief I was laying it on thick.
“Oh, don’t they just beat all?” she drawled. “I think I like you.” She beamed at me, and God almighty did I beam right back. I think I liked her too.
We chatted a bit longer until she brought up the second reason for her visit.
“I wanted to ask if you’ve heard anything about this buildin’ that’s supposed to be goin’ up by the entrance to the street.” She pointed again in the direction of her house.
“Um, I think I may have heard something about that,” I hedged, praying that Gavin was safely ensconced in the bathroom with Rocco and would not overhear.
“Some of the other parents and I have been lookin’ into it a little and we’re a bit concerned. Who knows what kinds of businesses are buildin’ there. We don’t want some bar openin’ up so close to us, or anything really that’ll mean a bunch of strangers hangin’ around or loud noise at night. Not to mention the extra traffic on the street while our kids are out playin’.”
I had to admit, some of the same thoughts had occurred to me since Gavin first brought it up last week. I’d just bought this house, and although I got a good deal because of the work it needed, I didn’t want to watch its value go down. And of course I wanted to live in a safe neighborhood, especially with Rocco to consider.
“It’s been difficult to get much information over the phone, so those of us who can make it were plannin’ on goin’ over there early Thursday mornin’ to try and get some answers. That’s when they’re gonna start tearin’ down the houses.”
“Mmhm,” I made a noncommittal noise.
“Anyway,” She put her hand briefly on my arm. “It would be great if you could make it. I’m plannin’ on headin’ over around seven to try and catch them early, and I know a couple other people who are comin’.” Her face brightened again. “Oh, hey, and we’re also gonna have a little get-together this Saturday at our house with some of the other neighbors and their kids. You should come along and bring Rocco! The kids will probably just play on the X-box or run around the yard while we talk about some of the neighborhood stuff but it should be fun!”
Victory! My weekend playdate!
“That sounds great!” We exchanged phone numbers before she and Aiden went off with a wave.
“Soooo,” I said, entering the bathroom where a very naked Rocco was splashing in the tub. “Guess who just scored you a playdate with some cool neighborhood kids and an X-box?” I crowed. “Me! That’s who.” I may have tried out a couple of my cool dance moves too. Why hadn’t I ever taken a hip-hop class?
“Just, no,” Gavin said from his perch on the closed toilet seat.
I loved most everything about my little house, but I had to admit the hall bathroom was a bit small. It had a tub/shower combo, a toilet, and a tiny pedestal sink. Unfortunately, both the toilet and the sink were pink. I’m a girl and even I was slightly offended.
“What’s an X-box?” Rocco’s dark head tilted back and his face got scrunchy.
“Trust me, kid. You want to play X-box,” said Gavin. “It’s an electronic game you can play with other kids. It’s awesome—and you can usually kill stuff.” Hopefully they wouldn’t be playing those games—although since it was Aiden’s game … yeah.
“What kids?” Rocco still didn’t look sold on the idea. And there was the nose twitch again.
“Some of the other kids who live in our neighborhood. I just met one of them—his name is Aiden and he’s six,” I enthused.
Rocco’s head tipped back down and he dive-bombed his privates with a plastic shark. I gave Gavin a side glance.
“Sounds fun, Rock. You should totally go,” he offered before standing up. “Well, I’m out.” And he left the overcrowded bathroom.
“Will I hafta talk to them?” Rocco asked, zooming the shark through the bath water.
“I guess. I mean, at least a little. Why wouldn’t you want to?”
“Do I hafta play with them and stuff?” Another damn nose twitch.