Page 22 of Stealing It
“A few of the girls on the cheer squad,” Juliet explains. “They’re just hanging out.”
“Hanging out is code for underage drinking and boys,” I interrupt. Jenny punches a fist in the air in agreement. “I’ll keep the tracker on your phone if I agree,” I say.
“That’s fine. Keep the tracker on. That’s where we’re going. I wouldn’t lie to you, Mom. No boys or alcohol. I promise.” In an effort to give her a tiny bit of freedom, I make my decision. I glance at Jenny and can tell she’s arrived at the same decision I have.
“Be back in an hour. Make sure the batteries on your bike lights are fully charged.”
“Yes,” Kendall squeals loudly, clapping her hands. “A nighttime bike ride is going to be so fun!” Kendall runs over and kisses my cheek as Juliet hugs her mom and they bound out the back door.
“It’s safe, right?” Jenny asks.
“It’s less than half a mile,” I counter. “They’re going to be in college all on their own before we know it.”
“It’s late,” she says.
I shrug. “They are teens. This is teen stuff.” I pull my phone out of my purse hanging over the chair next to me and pull up the family tracking app. “We’ll watch them ride there and back.”
“And while they are there?” Jenny says.
“We trust them to use decent judgment,” I reply. I don’t say good judgment, I say decent. Good comes later, when you’ve been burnt a few times and can rationalize. Decent won’t get you pregnant. My stomach sours at the thought.
“Maybe Kendall will use the same judgment as her mom,” Jenny quips as if reading my mind.
“Ha. Ha. You’re an awful friend,” I say, rising from my chair, cell in hand. “Want to help me make a board. You cut the cheese, I’ll find crackers.” Jenny agrees, her excitement for food paired with her wine, effervescent. We chat about mundane things while we eat, both of us watching the Kendall dot arrive at the beach.
“Technology really is a beautiful thing,” Jenny says, stuffing her face with a cracker. “What did we do without it?”
I can’t remember. It’s been that long, and that’s embarrassing given what I do for a living. I offer a weak joke about being old and continue my cellphone stare down. Trust. I need to trust her. If I give her trust, she’ll return it and maybe I can be honest about Aidan and my feelings for him. Or maybe I wait a few more months to see how things unfold and if things blossom like I’m positive they will, then I’ll tackle that conversation. I’m giving myself easy outs. It’s disconcerting.
Jenny’s brutal question brings me to the present. “Did you call Paul about the wedding yet?”
I exhale deeply. “I should do it now,” I reply. “I didn’t want to be wrapped up in my own emotions when I called. That’s not fair. It’s hard being diplomatic when I want to call and scream at him like a rabid bear.” I focus on my breathing.
“Call him now. I want to hear,” Jenny says, eyes widening.
“You are such a gossip monger. You know you can’t tell anyone, right? This is my business and I don’t want Bronze Bay talking about my life.”
“That’s offensive. You’re my best friend. It won’t leave the room.”
I set a hand on her shoulder. “My best friend who likes gossip. Give me your phone,” I say, holding out my hand. “Watch the Kendall and Juliet dot while I call Paul.”
She claps giddily and hands over her phone. I don’t need a reference to remember Paul’s cell phone number. He hasn’t changed it and right now I wish he had—wish I had to look it up instead of recalling by memory. Swallowing hard, I hit call and wait. He answers on the first ring, an uneasy, questioning tone.
“Hey Paul, it’s me,” I reply.
“Hey Maggie,” he says. I cringe but don’t correct him because it’s not worth it, not when I have bigger fish to fry.
Clearing my throat, I focus on the end goal and what I want out of this call. “Kendall isn’t comfortable going to your wedding.”
“Goddammit, why can’t you talk to her? Tell her I’m not a bad guy?” His reply is hissed, and that only serves to stoke my fury.
“Listen, Paul, I don’t tell her how to feel. Despite what you might think, she’s almost an adult, more mature than her peers because of what she’s been through…what she’s seen,” I sling, hoping to hit him where it hurts. “She makes her own decisions. I told her to call and apologize for the mean things she said abouther. I parent her. I don’t tell her how to think.”
“Pamela. Her name is Pamela. Come on, at least dignify the woman who will be Kendall’s stepmother by calling her by her name.” My whole body heats at the insinuation of that woman being any relation to my daughter. Shealmostsingle-handedly destroyed the innocence of my child.
“I tried being nice, but Kendall will never refer to that woman as her stepmother. You ruined that chance when you fucked her on our dining room table knowing we were both in the house. Now before you think I’m holding some grudge, I want you to know I’ve moved on. Kendall won’t see me fucking him, Paul. She won’t. Because I’m an adult and I handle my relationships, all of them, with dignity and truth. I called to tell you Kendall will not attend your wedding. I called to tell you that you’re an asshole to think she would. I called to thank you for being a cheating bastard. If you hadn’t, I might still be trapped in a loveless marriage with a sub-par human who is self-centered and weak.”
“Magnolia,” Paul trips on my name. “I’ve never heard you speak like that to me.”
