Two Feet Off The Ground Read online

  My mind whirled around. I wished I could just shut it off for even a few minutes. It just kept spinning around and around, out of control like the carousel in front of us. I needed a good night’s sleep, needed to stop the thoughts from piling up in the back of my mind cluttering my clarity. One minute I floated, the next I sank. I just needed it to idle for a little while.

  If California didn’t work, it’d be someplace else eventually. Could be worse. She would probably move to a third world country if given the chance. We’d have to live in mud huts, sleep on straw mats, and eat rice from our hands.

  Why couldn’t Paula just be happy in Rhode Island?

  I watched him stare at some kids chasing the carousel. He’d giggle when they did. He loved life. Somehow this little kid I created could see the good in life, even with a clueless mother raising him.

  Maybe I should just let him choose. Take the pressure off myself. He could decide our future and free me from spending the rest of my life wondering what-if.

  “Owen, sweetie, do you like it here?”

  “At the mall? Yeah, I love it.”

  “Not just the mall, honey. What about Rhode Island?”

  “What are you talking about, Mom? Of course I like it.”

  How could I in good conscience pull him away from his home? There I had it. He loved Rhode Island. Paula would never hurt Owen. She’d have to stay with us if she wanted to be with me as much as she said she did. I wanted to kiss him and spin him around in circles. He’d get a new pair of cleats for being so wise.

  I had no choice, I’d tell Paula.

  Paula loved me. She wouldn’t go to California without me.

  If we stayed, then ten years from now he couldn’t hate me for tearing him away from the girl who made him smile, or for ripping his team apart, or for handing his fragile pale skin over to the blazing California sun. “Good, then this is where we’ll always stay— you and me.”

  Owen tore his eyes away from his ice cream. “I’m not staying here forever.”

  My brain tingled “But this is home.”

  He rolled his eyes, then dug his spoon into a heap of syrup. “I’d rather live in California.”

  His maturity slapped me across the face and flung me into the brick wall of reality. I wanted a free-thinker. I got one. I tossed my half-eaten ice cream cone in the trashcan and gulped.

  The only thing left to do now was pray that she didn’t get the job or come up with a good way to convince her not to take it.

  * *

  Paula tested the spaghetti sauce one more time. With a steady hand, she sprinkled more garlic powder into it. She could’ve been cooking for a group of her kids, she looked so at ease.

  At first, I flat-out refused Aziza’s absurd request to invite her and Tania over for dinner. But then, Aziza reminded me that if I ever wanted to see her outside of work again, we’d better get the unavoidable over with at some point. The two just celebrated their two month anniversary the other day. In Aziza terms, she and Tania were practically married.

  When I asked Paula about inviting Tania, she didn’t even hesitate to say yes. Not even five minutes after I hung up to tell Aziza, she started to plan the menu. She decided on Italian sausage with meaty marinara sauce, a side of ceviche, and a homegrown salad.

  Tania’s favorite.

  “You seem more excited than I thought you’d be to have them over,” I said to her when we drafted our shopping list.

  “If Aziza’s really serious about Tania, then we can’t serve her peanut butter sandwiches. We have to show an effort.”

  So, off we went shopping, piling our cart with noodles, bread, cheese, and anything else it would take to keep Tania smiling.

  The whole rest of the day I stressed. I prayed we all could keep the conversation rolling that night. Nothing sucked more than silence. I ran through topics of conversation I could start if Paula or Tania started commenting on how lovely the weather was in New England in late summer. What else could two former lovers talk about? How they’ve improved their sexual techniques since being together?

  I could talk about Owen’s goal over the weekend on his summer soccer team and how he shot the ball straight through three defenders. Or I could bring up the success of my garden. My tomatoes had doubled in size that year, and even though Aziza didn’t agree, the scraps of hair I sprinkled over the soil did, too, help. If a strand of hair running wild in a plate of food grossed out Tania the way it strangely did Aziza, then I better scratch that topic. I still couldn’t bring myself to dine at Luciano’s since Aziza’s embarrassing outburst a few months back. I couldn’t understand why the strand of hair Aziza dug out of her gravy caused her to scream like she pulled a rat off her mushy pile of mashed potatoes. Does a surgeon faint at the sight of blood? Duh?

  Even with her idiosyncrasies, Aziza meant well. This whole weird dinner party proved her maturity had reached whole new heights. No way would the old Aziza have ever suggested such a ludicrous idea. She must be in love. What else could account for her confidence?

  I peeked up at the clock in my kitchen. Ten minutes until they arrived.

  I drew a deep breath to relax her pounding chest. Tangy Italian seasonings filled my kitchen. Candles flickered and crackled. Jazz melodies floated through the air.

  I went over to her, who had poured us a glass of wine, then followed her out onto my patio. We stood staring out at the lake in silence.

  She sipped a glass of wine, easing into the night ahead.

  * *

  Tania had the prettiest smile. When she laughed, her skin glowed just like an Avon model. That’s exactly how Aziza described her to anyone who would listen. Under the golden light of my dining room chandelier, I had to admit that Tania did have gorgeous skin. Why would Paula ever break it off with such a beautiful woman?

  She was perfect, well aside from the six smoke breaks she took before dinner. Every time she and Aziza stepped out onto the porch patio, Paula wrinkled her nose up in disgust and reminded me how glad she was that I didn’t smoke.

  Meanwhile, I longed after them, jealous they could puff away together without criticism.

  We both looked out at them and their glowing cigarettes. “She didn’t used to smoke like this,” Paula said.

  “Maybe she’s under stress?” Why was I defending Tania to her?

  “She should just run or something. We used to run the Boulevard all the time.”

  A tinge of envy burned through me. I imagined Paula in a whole new Californian life, some hot blonde in a ponytail jogging beside her.

  Tania opened the sliding door and yelled to Paula. “Do you remember the name of that place we stayed in Maine? You know that bed and breakfast that had that cat that laid all over the bed and dining room table?”

  I downed another gulp of wine. Great call, Aziza. Just invite the two ex-lovebirds to reminisce about their old romantic days. I snapped my eyes up at Aziza who blew smoke up in the air, creating a halo around Tania.

  I curled my arm around Paula, claiming her.

  “Bennigans Landing,” Paula said. “Why?”

  “That is the same place where I stayed,” Aziza said, smacking Tania in the back. “How weird is that?”

  “It’s such a cool place,” Tania said. “They have the best muffins I’ve ever tasted.” She turned and crushed out her cigarette.

  I wanted to throw up. How could Aziza act so cool with the whole Tania/Paula thing? I hoped they choked on their cigarettes.

  Tania and Paula talked about her tours the entire time we ate dinner. I kept shoving dishes in front of them. Meatballs, sausage, spaghetti, bread, even a can of olives at one point, anything to shut them up about this great city’s nightclubs and this great city’s trails, blah, blah, blah. They even rode motorcycles cross country to Denver just so they could have their pictures taken in front of the Coors Brewery Plant and use it as a Christmas card.

  Why didn’t they just start making out together and I snap a photo for that year’s card? For that matter,
maybe Aziza could just sneak right up to them and I could take a picture of the three of them smooching. Aziza seemed just fine with their chummy relationship. Since when did she sprout a layer of confidence?

  “Wow, what haven’t you two done together?” I just had to ask.

  “Well, a lot happens in eight years.” Paula’s eyes glazed over for a momentary walk down memory lane.

  Aziza smiled, joining in the happy moment.

  I seethed. I grabbed my plate of half-eaten food and retreated to the kitchen for more wine, straight from the bottle.

  Paula followed me in with the other three plates. “Dinner was yummy, wasn’t it?” she asked, as relaxed as if we’d just finished eating a casserole with grandma.

  “So, exactly what did Tania do to piss you off, then?” I wasn’t about to take an ounce more of this bullshit standing up.

  “What?” she asked with the innocent confusion of a toddler.

  “It’s a legit question, isn’t it?” I asked.

  She put her arms around my waist. “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m just confused.” I said wriggling free of her grip and gulping another mouthful of wine. “You sound like you had a great life together. What happened?”

  Aziza came into the kitchen, her white teeth flashing. “We’re set for dessert! I made strawberry sorbet. I planned to top it off with whip cream and a drizzle of chocolate syrup.”

  “Aziza, get out of here,” I said.

  “What’s wrong with you?”

  “I’m just not in the mood.”

  She cocked her head. “Oh come on. The sorbet will make you feel better.”

  Light the pilot on the stove now and they’d all be fucked with the voltage running from me.

  “Fuck the dessert!” I said loudly. I turned around to see Tania standing in the doorway holding the empty spaghetti bowl.

  “I’m sorry, Tania,” I said even though I wasn’t. “I’ve just had a bad day.” I clearly wasn’t about to reveal my vulnerable insecurities and crushed dreams to the Avon Model of Folk Rock.

  “Look, I’m sure we all knew this would be kind of weird,” Paula said, not feeding into my attempt to sweep the awkwardness under the rug. “We’re all adults here. Maybe it’s better we just stop ignoring the big pink elephant in the room and talk openly about this.”

  Tania sighed first. “Yeah, I think we should. We’ve got nothing to hide. And, I certainly don’t want to come between Aziza and Lauren.”

  “Yeah, no shit,” Paula said. “We don’t want to be scalped at our next haircut.”

  “Yeah, I’ve seen Aziza bleach the hair right off one poor lady,” Tania said.

  Aziza laughed, then Tania. Before long, the three drunk amigos barreled over in laughter like a group of runaway tires rolling down a winding hill, holding their bellies and wiping their tears.

  “Okay, I’ll tell you what happened between us. Turns out she’s a serial killer,” Paula finally said.

  I unfolded my arms and cracked a half smile.

  “Yeah, luckily Aziza is cool with it.” Tania hugged Aziza. “Don’t piss me off, hon.”

  Aziza cracked up. “We’re a perfect match. What do you think happens to all those customers who mysteriously never return to the salon?”

  I broke out into a grin, in spite of myself.

  “But seriously…” Paula started, looking to Tania, who then nodded.

  “Aziza knows,” Tania said. “You can say it.”

  “I want kids, and she doesn’t,” Paula said. “Simple as that.”

  “We just want dogs,” Aziza said. “Deogie is so easy. I don’t have to worry about diapers, birthday parties, teenaged drama, just scooping up poop and sharing my bed with him.”

  “So, that’s it?” I asked not seeing the big deal.

  “We want totally different things in life,” Tania said. “I’m a night person. I crave the music scene. I thrive on touring and hotels and new cities each week. And it’s not just that I don’t want kids, but I really don’t like being around them at all. It was a big point of contention with us. She lives for kids, as you well know. We don’t share the same dreams. We had fun while we were young and unfettered. But we’re on different paths now. We would have resented each other in the long run.”

  Soon, the four of us friends sat around the couch, laughing and cracking jokes. We played Pictionary and I learned the one talent Paula didn’t have. A two-year-old could draw better than she.

  Before long, Aziza yawned, signaling she wanted to go. As they gathered to say goodbye, Paula’s phone rang. When she looked down at it, her face reddened. “It’s California.”

  I turned numb.

  It rang again.

  “Well, answer it.” Aziza’s voice sailed much higher than natural.

  Third ring. Paula looked up at me. “Are you ready for this?”

  I dug deep for my voice. “Answer it.”

  She flipped open her phone and walked onto the porch. I froze, unable to lift myself from the chair. Aziza scurried over to me, placing her hands on my shoulders.

  Our life could be changed in a matter of seconds. Would I be celebrating Christmas in snow or in sand?

  Within two minutes, Paula flew through the sliding door right into my arms. She swung me around in circles and screamed. “They offered me the job!”

  She ran out to the porch wagging her smile like a dog who was about to go for a hike up a mountain. She slinked from one end of the porch to the other not even caring that she bumped into table and a pile of ash and cigarettes fell on her sneaker. She stopped for a second to catch her breath. Then, she launched herself in the air and tapped the roof with her fingertips. She landed on a hoot and then scooped me up into a tango stance before unraveling me right into Aziza’a arms and high-fiving the air. “We have to celebrate.” She latched onto my hand and pulled me out onto the patio and down the stairs towards the lake. “Let’s go swimming.”

  I flapped around behind her like a shirt caught in the door of a speeding car. “In that lake?”

  Paula let go of my hand and charged towards the water, peeling off her shirt, shorts, and sneakers right before hitting the water. I dropped my jaw and winced when Paula slammed her naked skin into the slime of the lake.

  “Whoooo hoooooo.” Paula’s voice echoed off the condos.

  In all the years me and Owen lived in the lakefront condo, I never once stepped foot in that disease infested water. As lore had it, snapping turtles grazed the shoreline for their evening snack. I happened to love the way my feet fit into my shoes just the way they were, thank you. I wasn’t about to go waving them in front of some hungry, foot-sucking turtle.

  Behind me, Aziza’s cackle pierced at my ears. She and Tania ran by me, boobs flapping around like a couple of water balloons, bare down to the crotches. They hooted and splashed and soon the water rose around the three of them like a geyser. Three naked women splashing around like a family of dolphins, loving life and embracing Paula’s defining moment. And there I stood like a statue.

  Screw it.

  I kicked off my sandals and ran towards the lake, pulling my dress up and over my head and unlatching my bra right before hitting the water. “California, here we come.” I splashed straight into Paula’s arms. Slime and all, Paula’s lips never tasted so yummy.

  “We’re Californians!” Paula dipped me backwards.

  Soon, the four of us embraced in a slippery hug, shrieking and hollering. Tania was the first to speak in normal tongue again. “I’m so happy for you two.”

  I would bet all my toes that Tania actually meant it, too.

  I just wished I could’ve felt the same.

  * *

  When I nodded for Paula to move forward with our plans, she wasted no time shifting our new lives into gear. The next morning, with credit card in hand, she booked our flights online. Owen stood beside her and pressed the submit button. “Two weeks to go,” he said, whizzing past me to retrieve the receipt from the printer.

>   The scrambled eggs and bacon I had just shoveled into my mouth tangled up in my belly like a pretzel.

  I had decided too fast. I should’ve told Paula that I needed time to plan this move correctly. But no. Throw a couple sets of boobs in my way and I lost all sense. The choice needed picking instantly, and in my drunken stupor, I plucked it right up without blinking.

  I looked down at the dust piled up under the fridge door. I had meant to clean that for months. Two weeks from then, someone else would have to worry about it. Aziza suggested that Maggie, the nail tech, sublet my condo from me. Maggie would never scrub the floor with her inch long daggers.

  The night before, the four of us had sat dripping at my kitchen table discussing the best way to tie up loose ends in less than two weeks. Aziza had volunteered to help me pack, organize a yard sale, and even contact the state Board of Health to initiate the transfer of my hairdressing license. How sweet of her. Why didn’t Aziza just place a full page ad in the Providence Journal advertising her immediate opening for a new best friend?

  Action needed to be taken. That afternoon, after bagging my groceries, I walked by the community bulletin board and finally tore off the last strip of number hanging on the poster for Providence Phobic Flyers Group. I had stared at that poster for months. Time was no longer a commodity.

  Within two hours, determined to fix my problem, I sat on a metal folding chair in the community hall of Saint Louis Church, sipping bitter coffee and munching on a sugar cookie. Owen sat beside me, determined to help.

  About the only thing I accomplished in those ninety minutes was how to recite the alphabet backwards. Like that would help save me from my nose diving nerves thirty thousand feet up. Owen urged me to concentrate and wrinkled his eyebrows up when I scoffed at how ridiculous this crazy group’s tactics were. No wonder none of them boarded an airplane yet. Focusing on the design of the seat in front of me? Squeezing my earlobes? Journaling as the plane careened down the runway? What a load of crap.