Page 32 of Unexpectingly Happily Ever After

The music turns on and I dance around the bathroom. The kids and I still have dance parties in the kitchen. I smile at the thought of Ben’s serious man-moves, of Sophie twirling and spinning until she makes herself so dizzy that she falls over. Of Lucy’s uncoordinated limbs that always makes me vow to enroll her in a dance class.

The makeup comes out, and I shadow and blend like a pro. The unruly curls are straightened into a red sheet down my back.

Holy shit, is that a white hair? In my eyebrow?

I tug at the offending hair with my fingers. Did I not bring a pair of tweezers? How could I I leave home without some? What if I got a sliver…or found a goddam white hair in my eyebrow?

I’m not that old, am I? Why am I thinking of having a baby if I have white hairs?

I snatch up the phone in the room and connect to the front desk. “Cosmopolitan Hotel and Resort. We’re here to serve your every need so how can I help you?” It’s a perky female voice and I wonder if it’s Ashleigh from earlier.

″I need a pair of tweezers?”

″Pardon me?”

″This is Casey Samms-Bergen in room– ”

″Yes, Ms. Samms-Bergen, how canI help you?”

″I need to borrow a pair of tweezers. Or buy them, I guess. Can you help me with that?”′

A pause. “Do you have a sliver? Do you need a doctor?”

″No, I…You’re a woman, right? Look, I just found my first white hair and I really need to get rid of it. Like now, because once my friend gets here she’s going to notice it right away and–”

″I can help you with that, Ms. Samms-Bergen.” Whoever she is, the girl has lost her perky tone and exchanged it for one that’s close to pitying.

I sigh. “Since we’re talking personal hygiene, I guess you can call me Casey.”

They send someone up with a brand new pair of tweezers still in the packaging. I have no doubt I’ll see it on the bill, but it’s worth it as I attack the invading hair. Once I finish my preparations, I preen in front of the mirror for a few minutes.

I may be the mother of three children, but I’ve still got it. I’ve also got the extra ten pounds of baby weight that I’ve never been able to get rid of, but I hide it under the loose, flowing shirt that leaves my shoulders bare.

And my backside still looks good in my tight black pants.

I arrange to have a taxi waiting to take me to the airport, but after I get ready, I have enough time to wander around the casino before it’s time to leave. When I headed to the room earlier, I bypassed it entirely, my head pounding from lack of sleep, my heart heavy from missing the kids. But I feel better now, and with my newhave funresolutions, I want to see as many things to tell the kids about.

Plus, it’d be fun to find a couple of quarters rolling around to bring home to Sophie.

The lights and the noise of the casino threaten to overwhelm me–it’s spastic, hypnotic, with no rhyme nor reason. But it also sucksme in and after a trip around the tables, admiring the clothes, the confident players showing absolutely no emotion, I find myself in front of one of the one-arm bandits with a handful of quarters rattling in my purse.

I can’t not play. Only a couple of times. The taxi will be here in a half-hour; I can play for a few minutes and still have time to get a drink at the bar.

Twenty-two minutes later, I’m still there and down to my last few quarters.

″This is my last time,” I mutter as I feed the coin into the slot. Nothing. “This is my very last time.”

I pull the bar, glancing at the middle-aged man beside me. He’s been there longer than I have, feeding coins in with a ferocity that’s more than a little frightening.

An alarm blasts, lights flash, and for a moment I think he’s won.

″You won,” he tells me with less emotion than the poker players.

″Holy shit!” Coins begin pouring out of the machine. The lights, the alarm, the noise of the quarters is awesome, and I stand staring at the slot machine. “I think I won. I won! I never win anything!”

And once again, I pull out my phone, taking pictures of the coins overflowing onto the floor. The man beside me looks at me with disgust.

″Are you just going to leave them there?”

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