Dear Neighbor, Drop Dead Page 6

  Five

  “I can not believe your mean, irresponsible daughter!” Beth shouted the second Mindy got out of the car. “I hope to God you ground her for a good, long time!”

  “She’s just a kid, Beth.” Richard trailed her. “Why are you blaming her for something you did?”

  “Hey, guys?” Artie was so mortified his voice quivered. “What’s going on here? Sounds like a little misunderstanding.”

  “Oh no.” Beth went nose to nose. “There’s been no misunderstanding. I don’t know how you are raising your children, but mine would know better than to—”

  “Do you hear yourself?” Richard pulled her aside. “You’re such a hypocrite. You expect a thirteen-year-old to take responsibility for her actions, but you’re an adult who can’t do that.”

  “For the last time, nothing happened! Okay? But will that stop the whole neighborhood from talking behind my back now? I don’t think so.”

  “Guys. Guys,” Artie pleaded. “Can we just put it on pause for a second? I want you to meet my son, Aaron Findley.”

  Aaron gestured hello and headed to the front door singing. “Every single day and every word you say. Every game you play, every night you stay, I’ll be watchin’ you…”

  “Cool,” Richard nodded. “Your boy likes Sting…. Look, I’m really sorry about this, Artie. We’ll straighten everything out. I promise.”

  “Forget it,” Artie gritted. “Aaron hold up.”

  “What is going on?” Mindy asked Beth and Richard, though she had some idea.

  “I’ll tell you what.” Beth stood with hands on hips. “Your daughter pretended to be you on line when we had this whole conversation. Then she had the nerve to make a copy of that conversation and send it to Jessica and apparently a hundred other people, and then, are you ready? She started this rumor that Richard and I are getting a divorce!”

  “Really?” Mindy had to fight the giggles. “Does this mean you unblocked me?”

  “What?” Beth snapped.

  “Oh, come on…you don’t think I figured out that you blocked me?”

  “You blocked her?” Richard said. “Why?”

  “I don’t know what you are talking about, Mindy, but clearly you are not hearing me. Stacie did a despicable thing to me and she owes me an apology….”

  “Would you stop?” Richard raised his normally calm voice. “Clearly you feel guilty about something or you wouldn’t be—”

  “Oh my God! Shut the hell up! Nothing happened. NOTHING!”

  So this was the trick to fighting with Beth, Mindy thought. Get Richard to do the heavy lifting, though she did feel sorry that he was the unwitting victim here. And at least she was getting validation that she hadn’t imagined the scene in the parking lot earlier in the day.

  “Okay look,” Mindy said. “This is awful timing, but I’ll go in and talk to Stacie and try to get her side of the story.”

  “There is no other side to the story.” Beth fought tears. “That little brat decided to be a big shot and ruin my good name and now everyone is making these awful assumptions and—”

  “Hey!” She felt another power surge like the one that came over her when she took on Stan. “Whatever she did, you have no right to call my daughter a brat, okay?”

  “Really? Then what do you call a child who doesn’t know right from wrong?”

  “I don’t know. The same thing you’d call an adult who doesn’t know right from wrong? I saw you at the mall today in that man’s car and it sure looked like you guys were having fun. And where there’s smoke, there’s—”

  “Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” Beth choked. “There is no smoke, no fire—”

  “You were in his car?” Richard looked ready to cry, too.

  “Where are you going?” Beth watched him leave. “Now look what you’ve done, Mindy!”

  “Look what I’ve done? Wow. You are unbelievable. But you know what? If Stacie did do something wrong, then I’m glad she did it to you!” Mindy walked off.

  Her only regret was that she couldn’t turn to see the look on Beth’s face after that knockout punch. But at least she could gloat. For the first time, she was the reigning champ. Pity the trophy ceremony would have to wait.

  “Can you explain any of that?” An angry Artie was pacing in the kitchen.

  “Possibly,” she replied. “Where is he?”

  “Bathroom.”

  “Did the kids come down to meet him?”

  “Nope. Stacie is in her room balling her eyes out and Jamie and Ricky are hiding in the basement. Beth scared the crap out of them.”

  “Oh my God…”

  “Yeah. Not exactly the John Boy returns to Walton Mountain party I expected.”

  “He’s very cute though,” Mindy whispered. “Just, you know, a little strange.”

  “And we look normal? He’s probably on the phone trying to book the next flight home.”

  “We’ll explain everything. I’m sure he’ll understand. Let me just go talk to Stacie and try to calm her down.”

  But then Aaron returned looking so helpless and confused, his wavy brown hair still matted from the car ride, Mindy offered him a hug and a snack. He declined both as he drummed on the table and asked for a beer.

  Her first instinct was to say hello, we don’t serve minors and please stop tapping on the table. But Artie, a soft touch and a once aspiring drummer, didn’t want to offend. He found an Amstel Light in the garage and showed Aaron to the TV in the den.

  “Relax. It’s not like he’ll be driving,” Artie whispered. “Plus I’m sure he’s done a lot worse than this.”

  “Great…a wonderful role model for the kids.”

  “Oh stop. I drank when I was in high school and I turned out okay.”

  “I know…it’s just, he looks so depressed. His clothes are ratty, his hair is scraggly, his teeth…They do have dentists in Oregon, right?”

  “Why are you already judging him? So he’s a little rough around the edges? He’s been through hell, but he’s basically a sweet kid.”

  “Sorry. You’re right. He’s great. Very cute. Can’t wait to fatten him up.”

  Mindy had to maneuver through a minefield of dirty clothes, clean clothes, books, and several pairs of UGGs before she could reach an inconsolable Stacie, who was slumped in a corner of her room holding her stuffed animals. She stroked her daughter’s hair and said she could win a hundred bucks if she could recall the color of her carpet. It didn’t make her laugh.

  Stacie cried that she felt very sorry about what she had done, but was mostly worried that if Beth and Richard got a divorce, Jessica would blame her, get their entire grade to hate her, then she wouldn’t be invited to any more bar or bat mitzvahs.

  “That’s what you’re so worried about?” Mindy chuckled.

  “No, I’m scared Jessie will never talk to me again,” she cried. “I really thought I was helping her.”

  “I know, but it was still dumb to pretend you were me…. Not to mention, you are so grounded for going on Facebook. That’s only for high school and college kids.”

  “Mom! Everyone I know is on there and it’s all they do…. Do you want me to be left out?”

  “I guess not.” Mindy sighed. This teen terrain was so scary, and what could be more terrifying than the thought of your child being a social outcast?

  “Do you think they’ll get a divorce now?” Stacie wiped her nose.

  “I have no idea, sweetie. But if they do, it won’t be because of anything you did.”

  “I would die if you and Daddy got a divorce.”

  “Never gonna happen. It would take us years to save up for the lawyers.”

  “Stace, you ready to come down and meet Aaron?” Artie stuck his head in. “He’s very excited to meet you.”

  “Really?” Mindy asked.

  “No, but he’s in the den looking fairly miserable. I thought we could give him the old Shermaroo, let’s get ready to rumble, high-five welcome.”

  “No!�
�� Stacie snapped. “I’m not doing that. It’s stupid.”

  “Oh, come on, sport. It’s such a great family tradition. I bet he’ll think it’s fun.”

  “Not if he’s normal. He’ll think we’re a bunch of dorks.”

  “I’ll take my chances,” he replied.

  Sure enough, the Shermans, aka the starting five, lined up for their long standing tradition of welcoming guests while Artie did the play-by-play, as if they were in Madison Square Garden before a Knicks game. It was all hoops and hollers, except for the visiting rookie who barely slapped hands as he made his way down the line.

  “Told you this was stupid.” Stacie checked her cell. “Can I go to do my homework now?”

  “How about we all have some ice cream?” Artie shot her a look.

  “Great idea!” Mindy clapped. “We’ll have a get-rid-of-it party before we leave.”

  “Ice cream! Ice cream! Ice cream,” Ricky chanted.

  “No thanks,” Aaron said. “How far’s New Jersey?”

  “Depends on where,” Artie replied.

  “Not sure…Been talkin’ to this kid online…. He said I could hang with him and his band.”

  “Tonight?”

  “Whatever. Yeah. I guess.”

  “I don’t think so. It’s at least a good hour away. Maybe more.”

  “I drive you know.” He air strummed a guitar. “Don’t need you to take me.”

  “No I know. It’s just that the highways around here are pretty confusing. And Jersey drivers…forget about it. Plus tomorrow’s going to be all kinds of crazy. Last day before the big trip! Hey, do you need nice pants or shirts? A few of the nights you have to be dressed—”

  “I brought stuff…not an idiot, Art…‘I didn’t mean to take up all your sweet time, I’ll give it right back to you, one of these days.’”

  Artie blinked. The kid was quoting Hendrix AND dissing him at the same time?

  Mindy bit her tongue. She and Artie had wondered what Aaron would call him, but Art wasn’t on the list. No one called him that. To his parents he was Arthur, to his brother, Ira, he was still Tank, a throwback to his former fat days when he was as big as a Sherman tank, and what she called him depended on how big a favor she needed.

  “I’m not saying you couldn’t handle it.” Artie looked crushed. “It’s just that we’re all excited that you’re here. We’d like to hang with you, too.”

  Stacie snickered, always amused when her dad tried to sound cool.

  Little Ricky, a most intuitive child, came to the rescue. “I wished you could meet my dog, Costco.”

  “Costco?” Aaron drummed on his thigh. “Ya mean like the store?”

  “Yeah, but he went on vacation and didn’t come back yet.”

  “Your dog went on vacation? Cool.”

  “It’s a New York thing.” Artie winked while the girls rolled their eyes. Sadly, it remained a mystery how their beloved Shih Tzu had escaped the backyard.

  “Mommy, what if Costco comes back when we’re on the cruise?”

  “Oh. Um. Maybe we could leave his bowl outside by the kitchen door.”

  “Yeah. He’d like that.” A satisfied Ricky turned to Aaron. “Are you really my brother?”

  “That’s what they tell me.”

  “’Cause my dad said you are.”

  “Do you want me to be…‘Oh, brother, brother, brother, I know you’ve been layin’ back a long time.’”

  Ricky ignored the song. “I dunno. Do you like the Mets?”

  “Baseball’s okay.”

  “I have Mike Piazza’s rookie card. It’s worth a million dollars.”

  “Cool.”

  “Does it hurt to get a tattoo?”

  “Yeah. A little.”

  “Do you smoke, ’cause it’s really bad for you and my teacher said you’ll die if you do.”

  “You’ll die anyway, man.” Aaron shrugged. “But no, I quit…cigs were costin’ me too much.”

  “Do you like to go on cruises?”

  “Don’t know,” Aaron shrugged. “Never been.”

  “Me either. But you like Disney, right?”

  “Not sure,” he hesitated. “Never been.”

  “Mom! He’s never been to Disney…. When we come back can we take him? Can we?”

  “Um, well, not this year…but hey, we could definitely take him to the circus.”

  “Yeah, yeah! The greatest show on earth,” he squealed. “Do you like the circus?”

  “Not anymore.” Aaron looked away.

  “Could you teach me how to play the guitar?” Jamie said, blushing.

  “How old are you?” He strummed an invisible instrument.

  “Almost eleven.”

  “That’s about how old I was when I learned. Who do you like?”

  Her eyes lit up. “Justin Timberlake!”

  “Then no.” He stopped. “Can’t teach you. That’s not real music.”

  “What Aaron means, honey,” Artie said, “is that he’s more into the classics, like Hendrix and Clapton and—”

  “I think you look like Stacie,” Jamie blurted.

  “You know,” Mindy nodded, “you do. I was thinking the same thing.”

  “Okay, we do not look alike.” Stacie groaned, but studied him to see if they were right.

  “No really,” Mindy said. “You both have the same big brown eyes, the same coloring, and that cute dimple on your chin.”

  “Oh my God, shut up Mom.” She buried her face in a pillow.

  “Duh, Mommy,” Ricky said. “Aaron’s a boy. He can’t look like Stacie. I think he looks like me…. Do you want to sleep in my room ’cause we all sleep with my mommy and daddy?”

  “You are so freakin’ gay!” Stacie threw the pillow at him and Mindy laughed. Artie, however, reacted differently.

  “Uh-oh.” Mindy saw his tears. “Here we go…Your dad gets a little emotional.”

  “Sorry.” Artie waved an apology. “I don’t know what came over me. It’s just so great, seeing all my kids together, everyone talking and having fun…. I prayed for this day for so long and I was starting to think it would never happen…but see? You can’t ever give up.” He hugged his boy. “So good to have you here…so good.”

  “Whatever.” Aaron stood soldier tall, though clearly not at ease.

  Ice cream night at the Shermans’ was a cardiologist’s delight. Mindy was big into toppings, putting out a spread to rival Baskin-Robbins. But while everyone dove for their favorites, ignoring her pleas not to get the sprinkles on the floor, Aaron begged off, mumbling something about the long day and wanting to go online.

  Artie brought him down to the guest room in the basement and apologized for the hideous bathroom while Mindy tried to enjoy her sundae without letting her mind wander too far from the hot fudge. And yet she worried.

  Here was a seventeen-year-old who was never hungry and always tired. A boy who thought nothing of asking for an alcoholic beverage and whose parents had been in and out of rehab. A boy who dressed like a rocker, quoted lyrics from before his time, and had tattoos on his neck. Did anyone say drug habit? Or was she just being negative like Artie always accused?

  For the rest of the week her eyes would be wide open for signs, but not nearly as wide open as they were about to get.

  “I need a place to stay tonight.” A red-eyed Beth was standing at the front door.

  It took a moment for this to register. Five-star Diamond Beth wanted a room for the night? Would that be cash or credit? The same Beth who wouldn’t drink Mindy’s coffee unless she first rinsed the mug? The same Beth who had just verbally abused her entire family?

  “Why?”

  “What do you mean why? You saw the whole scene…. I just do.”

  Mindy stared, wishing Artie was there to watch Beth squirm.

  “Trust me, I realize you’re not happy with me at the moment, but I wouldn’t be asking unless I was totally desperate.”

  “Thanks?”

  “I can’t look at Richard righ
t now I am so angry with him…. He’s treating me like a criminal and I’m not going to take it. Of course, it was okay when he fooled around.”

  Richard fooled around? Hello, Nadine? “Okay but see the thing is, Aaron is staying in the guest room, so I don’t really have any place to put you. Could you maybe stay at Jill’s?” Or with one of your other snotty friends who look down on me because I don’t wear my daughter’s UGGs or drive a cute little convertible to Waldbaum’s?

  “Mindy, c’mon. You know the whole goddamn story…. I can’t go anywhere else. It’ll just add fuel to the fire. Do you not get what I’m saying?”

  “I do, but—”

  “And look, I know your kids sleep in your room, so I’ll just take one of theirs.”

  I’m sorry. Did someone report a missing Webcam? “How do you know that?”

  “Oh, please. Everyone knows everyone’s business around here. That’s half the problem. So what’s the deal? Can I stay?”

  Mindy was confused. How could she be feeling sorry for the original “Mean Girl” of Merrick? A neighbor who made her so miserable, she’d started a file with a list of movers. Plus, it would totally stress her out if Beth went upstairs and saw all the suitcases and laundry piled on the floor. And with the cleaning lady gone due to fiscal restraints, the kids’ rooms were such pigpens, she wouldn’t be surprised if they one day unearthed Carmen Sandiego. But that wasn’t the worst of it. No matter how much she yelled, their bathroom was so gross even she hated going in there. The wet towels were multiplying, the toiletries were inbreeding, and there were no less than six brands of hair gel left on the vanity every morning.

  “Um, things are kind of a mess up there right now with everybody packing and—”

  “Fine. I’ll sleep on your couch. I’ll be up and out at the crack of dawn anyway.”

  “My couch?” The one with the missing springs or the one with the rip in the arm?

  “Just give me a pillow and a blanket and I’m good to go.” Beth walked through the center hall into the den. “Do you have down, because I prefer that?”

  Okay this is my house, not a Ritz-Carlton, bitch. “Sorry. No, we’re all allergic.

  “Fine…Just give me whatever’s clean…. And don’t forget. Tomorrow is your day to drive.”