Nobody’s Perfect

Chapter 22

Freshly showered, I emerged from my bedroom to the honeyed tones of my only child saying, Mom, it smells like ass in the hallway. What the heck?

Language! I sang automatically.

Well, that and I needed to buy a little time to answer that particular question.

How would Erma Bombeck explain to her son that she d placed rapidly rotting potatoes in the guest room closet to get rid of his father?

She wouldn t.

A mouse must ve crawled into the wall and died, I said with a shrug that hopefully hid the tic I got from lying.

Ugh. That s disgusting.

Well, you re leaving tomorrow, so you don t have to worry about it, I said. Quickly adding, Not that I want you to leave.

And what is Grandma cooking? It smells worse than dead mouse.

I took a deep breath. Might as well come partially clean even if it made me seem like a schoolyard bully. Your father doesn t like the smell of cooking cabbage.

Oh, Dylan said.

Sorry you re caught in the crosshairs, I said.

Yeah, I think I ll meet some friends for pizza. Text me when the smell has dissipated.

I clapped him on the shoulder. We ll miss you at supper, but that seems like a solid plan.

I wanted to thank him for standing up to his father s bribery, but I couldn t find the words. Thanking him would mean admitting that I hadn t done so well myself in that area.

He paused in the foyer. Oh, hey. I took a look at your YouTube numbers. They look pretty good, but you need to keep making content.

I gave a mock salute. Yes, sir!

Once he d left I wandered into the kitchen, where my mother had taken over. It was still odd to see her in the kitchen, my former domain. I searched myself for an urge to bake; the urge did not come-yet another thing Mitch had seemingly taken from me. Weird. Logically, I knew my mother could cook, but she d spent so much of my childhood not cooking.

Yes, because she was working hard to provide food for the table.

Thanks for cooking supper, Mom.

Oh, you re welcome, she said without turning around from where she had sauerkraut and wieners going. Mitch just better get back soon, because I would hate to eat this for no reason.

I thought you liked this meal.

Ha! I inherited the recipe from my mother, who made this when she could afford little else. It s also quick, so that helps.

The garage door rose, and I grinned at Mom. Sure enough, six seconds later, Mitch bellowed, Vivian, what the hell?

Good evening to you, too, Mitch. We re just fixing supper.

And watching Jeopardy , Mom said before turning to me with a plate.

It s Saturday. There s no Jeopardy , Mitch said, his nose wrinkled in disgust.

To be perfectly honest, I wasn t looking forward to this meal, but I d eat it with a smile on my face if it made him uncomfortable. As for our television options? Oh, it s streaming now. We can watch it anytime we want.

I m going to my room, he said, the emphasis meant to make me feel guilty for unceremoniously kicking him out of our bedroom.

It should be noted that I didn t feel the least bit bad.

We sat down on the couch and placed our plates on the coffee table. I picked up the remote, but I could hear Mitch talking on the phone, making cooing sounds to his new girlfriend.

Mom put a gentle hand on my arm. Don t. Just turn on the television loud enough that you can t hear him.

We spent the next twenty-some-odd minutes asking questions with our mouths full.

Finally, as we sat back and waited for the three contestants to figure out the Final Jeopardy answer-Who is Ellis Marsalis Jr.?-Mitch entered the living room.

Vivian, have you done something to my bedroom or does it smell because of that cabbage crap you re eating?

I haven t done anything to the bedroom, Mitch, I said carefully. In fact, I hadn t done anything to the bedroom ; I may or may not have placed something in the bedroom closet. Why would I?

He crossed his arms over his chest and narrowed his eyes. Because you want me to leave.

Sure, but I also want to keep the house. Why would I do something to hurt it?

He couldn t argue with that logic. He paused on his way back to his room and turned around. I guess I never thought you d be so petty. You ve really surprised me, Vivian.

Petty wasn t a word I liked coming from him. It hurt, but I kept my smile right where it had been. No, Mitchell, you thought I would go along with whatever you wanted, just the way I always have. I m simply not the doormat you thought I was.

He scowled at that but left us in peace.

Mom and I stared ahead for a few minutes.

You gonna start another episode? she asked.

Before I do, there s something I want to say.

Now that I d gotten that sentence out, I had to proceed, right?

I m sorry that I accepted that car from Daddy. Not only was it insensitive, but it also caused you trouble and time and money.

Is that what s been bothering you all afternoon? Mom asked.

Yes. I guess this whole thing has really shown me all the ways I wasn t a good daughter.

You re not a bad daughter, Mom said.

I waited for her to expound upon that simple sentence, but she didn t. Hardly the comforting acceptance I had hoped for. Maybe I d waited too late for my apologies to count.

The next day, Mom, Dylan, and I went to church. We had lunch together, then sent Dylan back to school with last weekend s load of clothes that I d forgotten to finish and then this weekend s load of the clean clothes he d laundered himself. I was sitting at the breakfast room table working through the Sunday paper crossword when my phone rang. It was Rachel.

Um, Vivian, are you mad at me?

No, why would I be mad at you?

You know, Tabitha and-

Rachel, I could never blame you for something your sister and my husband did.

Well, it s just that you skipped my birthday dinner.

There went my stomach again, flipping and flopping and somersaulting. Rach, I m so, so sorry.

I was busy making an ass of myself in an attempt to get rid of my husband.

I know you ve had a lot on your mind. But I wanted to thank you for helping Suja make those shoes for me and to ask if you wanted to get together in the cul-de-sac in a few for a celebratory glass of wine.

I d love to!

She hung up, and I ran to the back bedroom looking for something, anything that I could give Rachel as a birthday gift. Fortunately, I had a gorgeous turquoise scarf that was more her style than mine anyway-and it still had the tags on it.

I found a gift bag and tissue paper from the stash I kept under the bed.

Vivian, you have got to get your act together.

Besides, Suja had mentioned Maggiano s, and that would ve been so much tastier than kraut and wieners. Mom would call the whole situation a logical consequence. God, I hated logical consequences.

By the time I got outside, Abi was already there, sitting in her camp chair with her knitting in her lap. You forgot something.

I know, I know.

I told her about how my mother and I had gotten wrapped up in ways to get rid of Mitch.

Abi skewered me with a look. That s not going to make you feel better in the long run.

I know. I just want him out of my house.

Then he s going to spend money on an apartment, and that s more money you won t be getting.

He can stay with . . . her if they love each other so much.

That won t make you happy, either.

Let s talk about something else, I said. How would you like to join me on Rise and Shine Atlanta for an interview with-

No.

Alavita Hodges.

Abi paused. Really?

Really, I said.

She sighed and put her knitting down. I ve always admired Alavita Hodges. She always manages to get the tea.

I told her about my conversation with the television host and the upcoming New York trip with Busy Mom Cosmetics. Do you think that might be enough for Rachel to forgive me for missing her birthday dinner? I mean, obviously, I want you to go, too.

Abi froze, then paused as if measuring her words. Look, Vivian, you re going through a lot right now. We re not mad at you.

Just disappointed?

She grinned. Yes, we are thoroughly disappointed because we missed your company.

We chatted awhile longer. When Abi checked her watch, I knew I wasn t the only one wondering where Rachel could possibly be.

I looked up to see her trudging-not speed-walking-to the cul-de-sac, sans chair and bottle. That didn t bode well.

Was that a plastic shower cap over her hair?

Um, Rachel?

I can t come out to play tonight after all. She was trying to put a brave face on the matter, but she looked ready to burst into tears.

Oh no. What s wrong?

She took a deep breath and looked down at her feet. Whatever she mumbled, neither Abi nor I could understand. We looked at each other and then back at Rachel.

Could you say that again?

I have lice! She yelled it so loudly that it bounced off the other houses and came back to us. Hair pets! Scourge of kindergarten and preschool teachers everywhere. And on my birthday weekend, too!

I m out, Abi said. Y all know how I feel about bugs. Rain check!

So you ll put that stuff in your hair, and you ll be fine, I said.

Okay, so my first thought was actually, Would you mind taking a nap with your head on my husband s pillow? But I stifled those thoughts.

Rachel burst into tears. At first I hugged her with my eyes so I could stay where I was sitting, but I finally stood up and put my hands on her upper arms. It s not that bad.

It is! I m using one of those home treatment kits, but David s going to have to pick the nits, and he s not detail oriented at all. And as blind as a bat at that!

I know someone who is detail oriented and who has at least average eyesight.

Who?

Why, me.

Oh, Vivian. I couldn t possibly ask you to do this.

Maybe we could be even for my forgetting about your birthday dinner last night?

I think this would tip the scales to you on the favor meter.

Well, then I ll make a video about getting my Nitpicker Badge.

Rachel opened her mouth to protest, but I held up a hand. No mentioning your name. I ll just do a video of myself.

But you would pick my nits?

Yes. That s what friends are for.

Vivian, Dionne Warwick never mentioned lice in that song.

Maybe she should have.

I m pretty desperate with this lice thing, so, well, I guess you can do a video about it if you ll promise to leave my name and face out of it.

You ve got it!

I walked Rachel back to her house, and we tasked David with holding the flashlight so I could become a true nitpicker.