KITTY
MY PARENTS CALLED and told us they have a surprise. Well, what they really said was “guess what?” and my mom was filled with so much giddiness I thought she was going to burst into a million pieces. The guess what was merely the hook. They wanted to string us along for a bit. We won’t actually find out what the answer is until this evening when we meet up. They promised they’d tell us then. I’m not holding my breath. Last time they said guess what they ended up telling me they bought me a twenty-year old used Buick. I know, I should have been grateful for the free car, but believe me, there were plenty of strings attached that only I could see.
Jordan and I are walking through the state park; something we’ve never done. We’re not outdoorsy people, but our couples therapist suggested we start taking walks together and see where that leads us. If it works as well as her last suggested exercise I don’t know why we’re even trying. But here we are. Outside, taking in the fresh air and the sounds of every variety of bird singing in the trees that tower above us. It’s a cool day, we’re both wearing sneakers, pants and t-shirts. Funny, now that I think about it. We’re dressed alike. I always thought that couples that dressed alike were madly in love. Another theory of adulthood I’ve debunked. We’re even both wearing maroon t-shirts. How lame is that? Anyway, like I said, we’re trying. I’m trying. We’re here. Outside. Breathing fresh air. Walking side by side on a quiet paved road. We don’t have a map or a goal destination. We’re simply going through the motions and at least one of us is hoping that magic will kick in. But even I’m beginning to lose hope on that one. I know counseling isn’t the cure-all-end-all, but I thought it would have helped at least a little by now. As we round the corner I watch a guy who looks to be around our age, walking his dog. His dog is (ah-hem!) using the bathroom and when he is done, the duo simply walk away without picking it up. I can’t help but roll my eyes. What if someone steps in it? I remind myself not to get wrapped up in someone else’s drama. Our therapist says if we find ourselves getting frustrated at other people it’s because we are really frustrated with ourselves. She’s probably right. I am frustrated with myself, for a lot of things. So I forget about the man and the dog and without too much thought I reach my hand forward and grab onto Jordan’s. It doesn’t feel natural, but I do it anyway. We are a married couple and we should hold hands. He doesn’t grab on tight, but he holds on. Although we finish our walk through the woods without a single word, holding hands is enough for me in this moment.
MY PARENTS HAVE ALREADY given us so much. I don’t know what they have in store for us tonight. Jordan and I arrive punctually at their house. Both of my parents are already dressed and have on light jackets. They are nearly pushing us back out the front door. “Nice to see you too.” I joke, looking around to see if there are any unfamiliar Buick’s in the street.
“Oh, Kitty!” My mom waves her hand at me dismissively. And yes, even she calls me Kitty now. Everyone does. “Jordan, can you believe this one? Is she always so –“
Before she can finish I interrupt. “Mom, what is this all about? What’s the big surprise?” I flash a smile, knowing that it will please them. Again, it’s not that I’m ungrateful, it just feels smothering to be showered with gifts all of the time. And I know what the gifts are for. The gifts are for following the unspoken rules of our family. Marry the right person. Have babies. I’ve achieved one of two and I’m quite certain I’ll achieve the second in time; I know they’re sure of it too. Hence the gifts and the excessive giddiness.
“My, my…someone’s sure impatient!” She sings.
Jordan takes a step toward me, standing by my side and I realize this is by his own doing. He reaches his arms behind my back and touches his fingertips to the small of my back, herding me toward the car like a cow. I’m not sure if I should be flattered or offended that he’s making this effort. I pretend not to notice his touch and walk to the car with the group, bending down to open the back door and climb inside. Jordan climbs into the front passenger seat. My dad is driving. My mom walks around to the far side of the car and climbs in the back seat to sit next to me. This is how we always sit, girls in back, boys in the front. I can’t remember it being any other way. Jordan and my dad begin talking about football and I instantly tune them out. My mom turns to me and asks if I knew Abbie Lyndrom had another baby. I shake my head indicating that I didn’t know. She continues on, listing other former classmates who have recently gotten married or had children. It’s an exhausting list; it always is. In my mom’s world, girls my age are getting married and popping out babies left and right. She always finishes her gossip by pressing her right hand into the small of her neck and muttering something about how preposterous it is that Trish can’t be like everyone else. I never agree or disagree. I just listen. After all, I am strapped into the back seat of a car; a car that I have no idea where it is headed.
My mom never seems to notice how quiet I am. I know she likes having someone listen to her for once. She doesn’t have that at home. I fill the role of the rule obeying good daughter to her satisfaction. After a bit I look out the car window and notice that we have been driving in circles through my parent’s neighborhood. Why haven’t we gone anywhere? Is my dad losing his mind? Does anyone else notice that we’ve been driving for nearly ten minutes and we haven’t even left the neighborhood? I look around at the three of them and everyone seems content. Jordan and my dad are still engaged in an intense football conversation. My mom is picking at her fingernails, studying her manicure. I sit quietly, watching my dad turn the corner again. We are literally driving in one big circle throughout the neighborhood. I hear Jordan let out an “Ahhh…” and realize I haven’t heard him sound that happy in a long time. It actually sounds genuine too, not just for show. Maybe that walk did have a little magic in it. The football conversation comes to a lull and I watch as my dad turns to look back at my mom. They both smile and I see the giddiness rising up in my mom again. She looks like a child on Christmas morning, so excited for something we have yet to find out. She is almost bouncing up and down in her seat. She nods at my dad and he clears his throat, turning back to look at the road ahead of us; although he should have it memorized by now, as many times as we’ve driven this loop. The car is quiet except for the hum of the engine and the quiet music playing on the radio; the volume is so low I can’t hear any of the words they are singing. I can’t even tell if it’s a male or female artist. I lean back in my seat, my eyes darting back and forth as we pull into the driveway. Maybe they forgot their wallet or purse? But it is not my parent’s driveway. I look out my window and see that their house is next door. My dad really is losing it. First he’s driving in circles and can’t find his way out of the neighborhood and now he’s in the neighbor’s driveway. But why is this all making my mom so happy? Maybe I’m the one who’s losing it.
“We’re here!” My dad announces, throwing open his car door and looking back to motion to each of us to do the same.
I feel the wrinkles creep across my forehead. I look to the right and see their house, the porch lights glowing in the night. And then I look back at the neighbor’s house where the four of us are standing in the driveway. Jordan’s too polite with my parents to say anything so I know I have to. “I don’t get it?” I look at my mom and then my dad, waiting for an explanation. Waiting for someone to tell me which one of us is crazy. Please don’t let it be me.
My mom is laughing and she leaves my side to stand by her husband. Jordan and I are left standing on our own and we both watch, confused, as my parents walk up to the front door and open it with a key. I see a light flip on inside, next the porch lights come to life. My mom pops her head out from the front door and motions for us to come in. I don’t know who their neighbors are, but something about this feels strange.
Although we are hesitant, Jordan and I walk forward toward the front door. As we’re walking, Jordan grabs my hand and I hold on. When we reach the front door my parents are standing there with giant smiles from ear to ear. “Surprise!” The both shout. Jordan and I look at each other- actually look in each other in the eyes. It feels like a breath of fresh air to look at him that way. Suddenly we are a team. Confused, but nevertheless, a team. I turn my eyes back to my parents. Are they throwing some kind of surprise party for us? At the neighbor’s house? And for what? It’s all so odd.
We step inside the home, still holding hands. I look from left to right and then up at the massive stairwell. I don’t see any other people here. It seems to be just the four of us. My mom leans into my dad’s arm and he nods; a secret code telling her she can now speak. “It’s five bedrooms, fully furnished and it comes with great neighbors.” She’s laughing again and it’s starting to freak me out. When neither of us replies, she continues. “There are plenty of rooms to fill with kids…It’s yours!”
Jordan squeezes my hand and we look at each other again without thinking. I imagine the look on my face is as surprised as his. His eyes are big and round and his ears curl toward the back of his head. Did they buy us a house? “Wow…” Jordan says, turning to face my dad. “Thank you. I feel like I need to say something better, something bigger than that, but I don’t know what to say. Thank you…” We are both stunned and for the first time in a long time we are both feeling the same emotion at the same time- and it’s not anger.
“Seriously?” I am shocked. They have showered us with gifts, but a massive house? A house of any kind for that matter, but this one is ours? Like Jordan, I don’t know what to say or do. We both stand like statues staring at my parents. Meanwhile my dad stands before us, soaking in the adoration. My mom is smiling from ear to ear, eager to take us on a tour.
She’s nodding excessively. “We’re neighbors! Can you believe it?”
My mouth forms the shape of an O and I blink, wondering if I am dreaming. We have a house! And it’s a giant, gorgeous house. We get to move out of his- our – bacon smelling apartment and live in the lap of luxury. It’s ours! I can hardly believe it. I reach my arms out wide and hug my mom. We don’t do that often, but something this big warrants a hug. And then there are hugs all around between each of us.
“Let me take you on a tour.” We all watch as my mom turns and heads to the back of the house, urging us to follow. The house is immaculate. It boasts five bedrooms. The master suite is on the first floor. Two of the upstairs bedrooms share a Jack-and-Jill bathroom. Another has its own ensuite. The kitchen is huge and has cherry cabinets that reach up to the ceiling. The living room has a gas fireplace and vaulted ceilings. And there’s an unfinished basement where Jordan can have his man cave and make an office full of computers and equipment. The yard has a white picket fence and at this house I wouldn’t expect anything else. The house is furnished; the last family moved out of the country and couldn’t take large items with them. We have a piano, couch, beds and dressers. We’ll bring our own rugs and linens of course, but otherwise there’s nothing to do but add the keys to our key chain. When we reach the front door at the end of our guided tour, we all take turns hugging again. I look around at the beige walls and the large stairway banister. We are going to live here. Everything is so pristine it’s like a museum. Nothing is out of place. As we stand in the entrance way each chatting about our favorite things in the house, I feel a twinge of something in my stomach. Trish is living in an RV and I get to live here? Somehow it doesn’t seem fair. But then, we all make our choices. She chose to be a rebel and I chose to follow the rules. There are consequences to every choice we make in life and I’m just reaping the benefits of mine. If they gave Trish this house she wouldn’t accept it anyway. I know she’d say they were just trying to control her. She’d say she would never live in a glass fish bowl that is this house. I guess that’s the difference between us. Trish thinks there’s something better and I accept what I’m given.
WE HEAD TO THE FROZEN Spoon to celebrate. They have the best ice cream in Oxboro. The Frozen Spoon has every regular flavor of ice cream you can dream of, plus they have an assortment of off the wall flavors like chocolate heaven (a mix of chocolate ice cream, chocolate chip cookies and chocolate pudding swirls) and corn-on-the-cob (no further explanation needed) and even pizza flavored ice cream. My parents have taken me to The Frozen Spoon since I was little. After ballet recitals and when I got straight-A’s. It’s a staple in our town. Some people travel for hours to come here just to try one of the off-the-wall flavors of ice cream. It’s safe to say, if you’ve been to Oxboro, you’ve been to The Frozen Spoon.
Now my mom’s giddiness has spread among us like wild fire. When someone buys you a house, you find yourself suddenly walking on cloud nine. There’s no avoiding it. My parents walk through the winding line and order first. Jordan is next and orders a plain vanilla cone. When it’s my turn I step up to the register and order two-scoops of chocolate heaven in a waffle cone. My mouth is watering as I think about what my taste buds are about to experience. The shop is packed with wall to wall customers; it always is. Everyone is happy here. It’s ice cream after all; how could you not be happy? We take turns shuffling through the line with our destination being the far register where we pay and are handed our ice cream. My parents motion to an open table in the far corner of the shop. Jordan turns to me and for a minute I think he’s going to say something meaningful. Instead, he bends down toward me, a smile on his face. “Can you hold this for me? I’ll be right back.” He nods his head toward the restroom. Well, it wasn’t heartfelt, but he did look me in the eyes. He was smiling. So, it’s something. I take his ice cream from him, holding his in my left hand and mine in my right. I look ahead, trying to push my way through the crowd of people, finally reaching an empty corner where I will wait for Jordan to return.
The room is filled with laughter and chatting. Some people are carrying cones with four or five scoops of ice cream. Jordan’s single and my double scoop look measly compared to some. I move my eyes to the ground, trying not to run into anyone. Just as I’m about to reach the corner I feel my forehead run smack into someone’s chest. “I’m sorry!” I blurt, forcing myself to look up. He’s tall with blond hair and light blue eyes and he’s smiling back at me. “I’m so sorry!” I repeat, not knowing what else to say. And then I follow his eyes. They are looking down toward his shoes. I quickly look back up at the two cones I am holding and realize my top scoop of chocolate heaven has fallen and is splayed across the strangers shoes. I realize then that chocolate heaven ice cream looks more like an accident with dog excrement when it splatters.
He laughs. “Don’t worry about it. It’s just ice cream.” He reaches toward the counter to grab a pile of napkins. As he bends down to wipe his shoes I stand dumbfounded in front of him, watching him clean up the mess I caused. He tosses the soiled napkins into the trash and wipes them once more before standing up again. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost, are you all right?” He’s trying to console me, it feels backwards.
I giggle nervously and shift my weight from one foot to the other. People are rubbing the sides of my arms as they squeeze by carrying their own ice cream prizes. Our eyes meet and he holds my gaze despite the chaos. I feel a zap of energy rush through my veins and my stomach flops.
“Ready?” Jordan’s voice chimes from behind me and I quickly snap into motion. I hand him his ice cream. He doesn’t notice that my top scoop is gone, or maybe he just thinks I’m really hungry. Either way, I’m glad he doesn’t ask. We push our way through the crowd and head to the back corner table where my parents are sitting. I look back once and catch the stranger’s eyes again, but only for a fleeting moment. And then I am sitting in a booth, on a double date with my parents.
My dad nods toward my ice cream cone as I take a bite. “Chocolate misery?” He asks, wondering about the flavor. He hates chocolate anything and I’m sure he’s making fun of my selection.
When I swallow, I wipe my mouth with a napkin and correct him. “Close.” I smile. “They call it chocolate heaven.” I raise my cone to take another bite when I realize it’s all a matter of perception.