Page 34 of Life of the Party

I grit my teeth and got out of bed. All this imagining wasn’t helping.

I crept downstairs, still in my pyjamas. My mom was sitting at her desk, her back to me, her short, faded dark curls shaking slightly as she moved. A large stack of embossed wedding invitations sat piled in front of her. I watched as she stuffed an envelope, affixed a stamp, and then used a little water sponge instead of her tongue to wet the envelope glue. She sealed the envelope, looked at it crucially for a moment, then moved on to the next one, apparently satisfied.

I laughed quietly to myself, and rolled my eyes. My mother may have been one of the most frustratingly annoying people I knew, but she was also the cutest. Once upon a time, she’d heard that cockroaches lay eggs in the glue of envelopes, and she’d never licked a single one since, relying on her faithful little sponge roller instead.

Technology moved too fast for my mother. She was terrified of the internet, convinced all her personal information could be swiped by hitting the Explorer button once. She yelled—no, screamed her order at the drive-thru box, and I could just imagine the poor person inside, cringing at the volume in her headset. She did the same thing on a cell phone, one finger in the opposite ear, nearly shouting into the handheld.

I was reminded of Homer Simpson, trying to order a tab from his computer. That was my dear old mom. I sprang lightly into the room and grabbed the envelope from her hand before she could sponge-roller it.

“Hey, Mom. Can I help?” I asked sweetly. Before she could answer, I dragged my tongue over the entire strip of glue.

“Mackenzie Anne!” My mom exclaimed. “What are you thinking? You’ll get eggs in your tongue!”

I laughed at her a moment. Her sheer ludicrousy was so very entertaining.

“I’m glad you think it’s funny now. You won’t be laughing the day you hatch a cute little baby cockroach out of your mouth.” She shuddered, but a smile crept onto her lips. “You’re feeling better.” She observed.

“Yeah. I think I just needed to sleep.”

“Probably stressed. All that studying.” She smiled knowingly.

“Oh, yeah. Totally. Studying all night, all day. It’s exhausting.”

“Uh-huh.”

“So…can I help or what?”

“You want to?” She asked, surprised.

“Sure. Why not.” I pulled a chair up to the desk, and she slid half the pile over to me. I looked at the invitation a moment—the sweeping calligraphy, the translucent paper edged with delicate silver embellishments. It was pretty. Over the top, but pretty.

I sat with my mom for the rest of the afternoon. We actually had a good time; my mom could be cool when she wasn’t ragging on me for every little thing. It helped when I wasn’t going out of my way to be a pain in the ass too—though I did lick every envelope by tongue, just to bug her.

When we were nearly done, I suddenly had a brilliant idea. I started touching the edge of my tongue with my fingertips, as if it were a subconscious gesture. She noticed but didn’t think anything of it, at first. Then I progressed from just touching my tongue to kind of scraping it, as if it were itching. She watched me, curious, until suddenly I sat up in alarm, made my eyes widen with horror, put my hand to my mouth and made a perfect, choking, gasping noise.

Her face went as white as a sheet. She stared at me, aghast, too petrified to even move from her chair. All her medical school training, right out the window. I couldn’t help it, I tried to keep it up, but she was too funny. I collapsed in my chair, giggling, holding my sides with laughter.

“Mackenzie Anne!” She screamed at me in total shock, only when it became evident I was not, in fact, hatching a cockroach from my mouth. I laughed harder, and her face went beet red. After a few minutes of disgraced anger, she began to laugh as well, shaking her head at her own foolishness. “That’ll teach me.” She muttered.

We were still laughing when the front door opened unexpectedly. Marcy came in, flushed with happiness, perfection in a black blazer and white blouse, dark pressed jeans and shiny black pointy-toe boots. My laughter subsided at the sight of her.

“Marcy!” Mom exclaimed. She got to her feet and hugged my sister enthusiastically. “We just finished up the invitations.”

“You helped?” She asked me in surprise.

“Yeah.” I shrugged.

“She was a great help.” Mom added.

“In your pyjamas?”

“I was sick today.”

“Huh. What’s so funny? I could hear you laughing from outside.” Marcy set her purse down and unbuttoned her jacket.

“Oh, Mackenzie’s just being a brat.” Mom laughed again, swatting at me playfully.

“A brat? What else is new?” Marcy raised her eyebrows sarcastically. “Anyway, Mom, I wanted to show you—”

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