The 8 Mistakes of Amy Maxwell Page 9

  There is a light on in the room. Curtains flutter in the window, obscuring my view, but I can see there is a desk with a computer on it in front of the window. Probably a home office or something like that, I am thinking as I hear the sound of throat clearing.

  The hairs on my neck prickle as I realize the sound is coming from outside. I slowly turn my head towards the sidewalk. Standing there with a scowl on his face and his muscular arms crossed over his chest, is one pissed off Jason.

  “What exactly are you doing, Mrs. Maxwell?” he asks, his piercing blue eyes staring into mine as I try to avert his gaze.

  My mind is scrambling to come up with a plausible excuse. Our cockatoo got out and flew into your shrub? My kids threw a Frisbee and it landed on your roof? I’m spying on your mother and her strange guest?

  “I, uh…” I stammer. Jason’s scowl deepens, the worry lines on his forehead furrowing severely.

  “Please get down, Mrs. Maxwell,” he commands.

  Biting my lip, I grab onto the railing and find that I am stuck. Well, I’m not stuck, per se, but I just realized I am about fifteen feet in the air and oh yeah, I’m scared of heights. I am pretty sure I am going to go crashing to the ground which will result in cuts and bruises and maybe even a few broken bones.

  One time when I was about twelve years old, we went to a BBQ at a neighbor’s house. The boy I had a huge crush on at the time (Anthony Everest) was there and he and a few of his friends were climbing trees. Most of the other girls were on the ground squealing and squeaking like dumb girls seeking male attention do. I was determined to have Anthony notice me, so I scrambled up the tree right behind the boys. They were actually impressed. Until I realized, I was so far off the ground that it paralyzed me with fear. I sat in the tree for a half hour sobbing like a maniac while the boys laughed at me until my father finally took pity on me and got a ladder. The boys never let me live it down, calling me Amy the Ape for years. One of them even wrote “Dear Amy the Ape, how’s it hanging?” in my high school yearbook.

  This was exactly like that situation. I had taken a leap before I considered the consequences. And now I was going to look like an ass in front of my, oh so gorgeous, maybe a criminal, maybe just a good guy, neighbor. And I have a feeling he is not going to let me live it down either.

  “Come on,” Jason sighs as he reaches his hand out to me.

  I stare at it, unwilling to accept his help. “Um…”

  He rolls his eyes. “I’m not going to hurt you. Just let me help you down from there before you fall and break something.”

  I glance around and see that Jason is my only hope. Reluctantly, I reach my arm out to him. He grips my elbow with one hand and tucking his other hand underneath my butt, he sweeps me off my feet, climbs down the stairs, and lowers my trembling body to the ground.

  Stop shaking! I command myself. But I don’t know if I’m shaking from Jason’s touch, what I just overheard or the fact that I am completely and utterly mortified right now.

  Jason lets out a sigh after he sets me back down on solid ground. “Mrs. Maxwell, you’re going to get hurt,” he advises me, but I am staring at the ground. Ants are racing towards a crust of bread that has been discarded on the sidewalk.

  “Yeah, I don’t usually climb railings” I mutter, pushing at the crust with my toe. Where is an earthquake to swallow up your street when you need one? Or a freak tornado?

  I feel Jason’s fingers on my chin as he lifts my face so I can see his eyes. They are serious and foreboding, silently pleading with me. “That’s not what I’m talking about and you know it. Please promise me you’ll mind your own business? And worry about your own family?”

  My neck snaps to attention at the mention of my family. Was that a threat?

  “What do you mean?” I stammer, trying to insert malice in my tone and fail miserably.

  Jason shakes his head. “Just stay on your side of the street and everyone will be fine, ok?” His soft look leaves his face and it is replaced by a foreboding expression. He pivots on his heel and heads around the back of the house, leaving me completely undone on the sidewalk.

  ~

  The only thing bruised is my ego as I munch on my slice of pizza later that evening. Jason’s “threat” fresh in my mind, I am gazing around the table at my family with trepidation. We are sitting at the kitchen table, having a nice family dinner. Well, I’m having dinner. My family is all in various stages of participating in dinner.

  Roger has been done with his food for a while, but he’s sitting at the table with the iPad, scrolling through his work emails. He is guzzling his beer with fervor. Occasionally he slaps his forehead with his palm and mutters stuff about morons and imbeciles. I can tell it’s going to be a long school year.

  Lexie has her doll propped up on the table and she is pretending to feed it little bites of her food while speaking to it in a teensie weensie baby voice.

  The real baby is sitting in his high chair smearing pizza sauce in his hair. I sigh as I watch him. I guess another bath is in the near future. That will be his third for the day.

  Colt is asleep, face in his pizza. I guess starting off your day aggravating your mother at the butt crack of dawn will do that to a kid.

  Allie isn’t even eating with us, but is nonetheless giving me new cause for worry. Earlier I rapped on her door to tell her that the pizza was here and she replied with, “Go away!” in a gravelly voice.

  Immediately I thought, did she just wake up or is she smoking? That sounds like a smoker’s voice. And what is she smoking? Cigarettes? Pot? Crack?

  I cautiously sniffed the door, hoping none of the other kids walked by and though I had completely lost my marbles. I didn’t smell smoke.

  That doesn’t prove anything, Amy. Don’t be one of those naïve moms that say “oh, not my kid”. Allie’s smart. She’s probably hanging out the window. Just like you used to do.

  “Come on, Allie,” I pleaded. “We have company; you have to eat with us.”

  I heard a cough, a thud, and the window slamming. God damn it, she was hanging out the window smoking!

  “Allie?” I had my ear pressed up against the door at that point.

  “In a minute!” she called out as I heard the distinct sound of air freshener being sprayed. I clenched my right fist at my side, preparing for battle.

  No, I am not going to start screaming at her about this. I have lost her enough; I don’t need to push her farther away. I will be calm and rational and not…

  Then, she poked her head out the bedroom doorway, only opening the door a crack so I could not see inside. “Who?” she asked suspiciously, raising her eyebrow.

  I sniffed the air before answering her. I could smell the faint nicotine odor that I had gotten very friendly with in my teen years. Do not flip out, do not flip out…my brain is shrieking.

  But as I’ve learned in my 35 years on this planet, my mouth rarely listens to my brain. “Are you smoking in there?” I accused, waggling my finger at her in a very mother-like fashion.

  Allie flushed and snapped, “No!”

  “Don’t lie to me, Allie,” I warned as I pushed my way into her room.

  “I’m not lying,” she stammered as she stumbled backwards, tripping over the edge of her throw rug.

  “I smoked when I was 15. I know what’s going on here. I’m not stupid.”

  “You must be, because I’m not smoking,” Allie growled at me as she kicked her desk chair over in anger.

  “Allie,” I replied sternly and evenly. “Please tell me the truth. It’s worse if you lie about it.” See, Amy, you can be calm. Breathe in through your nose, out through your mouth. Just like yoga…

  Allie rolled her eyes which were heavily lined with black eye liner. “Please, you should talk about lying,” she scoffed as arranged herself cross legged on her bed.

  Bewildered, I asked, “What did I lie about?”

  “You said we had company...”

  “We do. Colt’s friend, Sean. He could us
e some friends his own age…”

  Yes. Sean was still with us. I had to assume his father and grandmother wanted him back at some point in time, but when Jason had chased me off the front porch, he had made no mention of his son. Maybe it was just safer for him at our house so I was keeping him until someone came to look for him.

  “Oh, that weirdo that was hanging around with Colt? What do I care about him?” Allie wrinkled up her nose and I craned my neck. Is that a small hole for a piercing?

  “He’s a nice boy…” I started to say when Allie groaned.

  “Ugggh, Mother. I don’t need to come downstairs and hang out with a nice boy.”

  “Hey!” I barked, suddenly maternal towards Sean. “This isn’t just about you, Princess. Sean is going to be new at your school this year. He’s in your grade and he could use a few friends…”

  “I don’t need any more friends, Mother. And I certainly don’t need a freshman boy as a friend.” She rolled her eyes as she flopped down on her pillow. I’m starting to wonder how many eye rolls her eyeballs can handle in one conversation before they fall out of her head or she gives herself a migraine.

  “Oh well, excuse me,” I couldn’t fight back the sarcasm in my tone. “Freshman boys not mature enough, Miss Big Britches? What’s the matter? They can’t buy you cigarettes?” Or drugs, I wanted to add.

  Allie bolted upright and stared me down, anger flashing in her blue robin’s egg speckled eyes that I used to think were the most beautiful on the planet. She picked up a notebook and hurled it in my direction, “Fuck you,” she said evenly. “Get out of my room. I hate you.”

  “Allie…” my voice warned but I could see it was to no avail as she shoved her earbuds in her ears and cranked her ipod up higher. I toyed with the idea of taking it away, but I am trying not to push her away any more than I already have. Because now I have to find out if she’s smoking…or worse.

  So an hour later, I now have three awake kids at the table (one of which is not even mine), one asleep child and a husband who has mentally checked out for the evening when the doorbell rings. Misty starts barking like a lunatic, which is odd because Misty hardly ever acknowledges anyone at the door. She is the worst guard dog ever. She never barks when anyone comes to the house, but acts like a maniac whenever someone leaves because she is a herding dog and it upsets her when people leave.

  “Roger? Can you get the door?” I ask because I am now wrestling with Evan, trying to get him out of the high chair without wearing the sauce from his grubby little hands. I am wearing my favorite tee shirt; a faded number from my first Bon Jovi concert.

  “Mmm hmmm.” He doesn’t even glance up from the iPad. The doorbell rings again, followed by a knock.

  “Roger?” I am getting exasperated. Evan is smearing sauce on my bare arms and giggling. I need to wash him up before setting him down or the “clean” house will have red handprints everywhere.

  Ha ha. Clean house. That’s a funny joke, Amy.

  Roger is not even acknowledging me as I see his eyes quickly scanning an email. He groans audibly. The doorbell is ringing urgently now.

  “Hey, Roger,” I purr, trying to get him to look up. “I’m naked over here.”

  I know I’ve lost him completely because he mutters, “That’s nice,” as Lexie stares at me wide eyed and Sean giggles. Shit. I forgot they were there.

  “No you’re not, Mom,” Lexie points out. “You clearly have clothes on. Naked means no clothes.”

  “Thank you, Lexie,” I mutter. Sighing, I swing the baby onto my hip. Might as well forget about salvaging this shirt, I think to myself, as Evan spreads sauce all over my left boob. Twenty two years. We had a good run.

  The doorbell ringing is now accompanied by frantic knocking and Misty leaping five feet in the air in front of the door, yap, yap, yapping away. Whoever is on the other side of the door clearly does not have the Misty stamp of approval.

  I flick on the porch light and peer through the frosted glass. On the other side of the door stands none other than my good friend Jason.

  “Damn it,” I mutter as I try to smooth my hair down. Evan takes that as a signal to yank on it. Hard.

  Why are you even bothering to make yourself presentable, Amy? The man caught you swinging on the side of his house like Spiderman. I’m pretty sure you are done with any chance of him seeing you as anything other than a looney neighbor. And what does it matter? You’re married, remember? To the man that is one room away.

  I swing the door open and Misty lets out a low guttural growl. Slobber is dripping on my bare feet.

  “Hi, Mrs. Maxwell,” Jason remarks with a smile. “I’ve come to pick up Sean.” He continues to beam at me, ignoring the rabid nineteen pound attack dog at my heels. I swallow hard, waiting for him to bring up my earlier gaffe.

  “Uh, sure.” I cock my head towards the kitchen and call out, “Sean! Your dad is here!” I turn back to Jason and explain, “I’d let you in, but Misty wouldn’t like that at all.” As if to prove my point, Misty lurches forward slightly, teeth bared, but Jason remains stationary.

  “That’s fine,” he says, smile not leaving his face. “So how was your day?”

  I stare at him, mouth open. How was my day? How was my day? He’s kidding, right? Is he just making small talk or is he screwing with me? Or is he really so crazy that he’s forgotten?

  His expression is that of a poker face so I am inclined to believe the latter is the case. Until I see the slight curl of a smirk on his lips and a subtle wink.

  Why that maddening man… I want to lean forward and deck him but Sean brushes past me just then.

  “Hi, Dad!” he calls out cheerfully.

  Jason beams at his son. “Hey, Bud! Did you have fun?”

  Sean bobs his head up and down. “Yeah, lots! Colt got this really cool pair of binoculars for his birthday and we took it up to his tree house and…” He is practically stumbling over his words with excitement.

  Jason chuckles as he tousles Sean’s hair. “Ok, ok, you can tell me all about it but you need to thank Mrs. Maxwell first.”

  Sean raises his hand but doesn’t look at me. “Thank you Mrs. Maxwell.” He hops down our front steps, still chattering excitedly to Jason. Jason offers me a wave and maybe it’s just the lighting on the porch, but I swear he winks at me again, causing my blood to boil. And then he whispers something that makes that blood run cold.

  “Remember what I said earlier about your family, Mrs. Maxwell. Keep an eye on them. Especially that oldest one. You wouldn’t want anything to happen to her, would you?”

  Then he turns and leaves me standing on my porch, mouth wide open, his menacing words echoing in the night.

  ~EIGHT~

  It’s a beautiful fall evening; the breeze is swirling the curtains as I step into my darkened bedroom, ready to change into my pajamas for the night.

  I pull my dresser drawer open and select a nightgown, placing it on the bed as the gentle wind ruffles the sheets. It feels delicious on my warm skin as I pull my sweat soaked tee shirt over my head. I toss it in the hamper and tug off my shorts. I am now standing in the bedroom in my bra and underwear, my arms tucked behind my head, enjoying the breeze.

  I close my eyes, soaking in the peaceful feeling and when I open them, I notice a shadowy figure moving in the window across the street.

  Curious, I step closer to the window, the curtains billowing around my half naked body. I gaze across the street, squinting to make out the figure in the window. I reach for the pair of binoculars that I have confiscated from Colt and peer inside.

  Startled, I nearly drop the binoculars as I realize that it is Jason! He is watching me change!

  I take a step backwards intending to cover myself up quickly. But then I hesitate.

  “Wait a minute, Amy…” I begin to converse with myself. “He wants a show? You should give him a show.” This is the first man who has wanted to see me naked in ages. Roger doesn’t count…he just wants sex.

  I stare straight a
head, knowing Jason can see me and that I am aware he is watching. His binoculars do not move. I feel incredibly powerful as I reach behind my body and unhook my bra with one swift move. I lick my lips seductively as I arch my eyebrows and hook my thumbs into the top of my panties, slowly tugging them down my body. I know that Jason is across the street, fighting the urge to…

  My body jerks awake and I gasp audibly. It takes me a moment, but I realize that I am in my bed, tangled in the sheets and a sweaty mess. Glancing around, my face flushes in my darkened bedroom. Roger is snoring softly in the bed next to me, none the wiser of my erotic dream.

  Well, you can hardly blame yourself, Amy. After being sleep deprived for so long, your imagination has to be in overdrive…I attempt to reason with myself as I squint to read the time on the bedroom clock. The angry red numbers announce that it is 4:41 am.

  I sigh as I heave my exhausted body out of bed. The last week has been a nightmare. After Jason’s comments, I’ve been hyper-vigilant about my children, almost to the point of insanity. Allie wanted to sleep over her new friend Victoria’s house the other day but I wouldn’t let her. I insisted everyone sleep over our house and I regretted it.

  As I pull my robe around my body and pad down the hall to peek in on the children, I recall the events of Saturday night and Mistake #4 which may or may not have contributed to the domino effect of subsequent “Mistakes”.

  “Please, Mother, can’t you get rid of him?” Allie had whined while peering through the curtains, waiting for the guests of her sleepover party. Colt and Sean were wrestling in the living room. I wasn’t sure if she meant Colt or Sean until she continued, “Don’t you think it’s weird that boy hangs around Colt all the time? It’s embarrassing,” she hissed as the doorbell rang. She tossed her silky hair over her nearly bare shoulder as she dashed off to open the door. I had been begging her for weeks to ditch the shoulder baring shirts, but thus far my requests had gone largely unheeded. “I mean, it’s 7:00 on a Saturday night. Why isn’t he with his own friends?”