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Chapter Two
July 15, 2009 | Filed Under Lisa | Leave a Coment
Opening the door to her third floor downtown apartment Lisa listened without breathing. Nothing. Thomas must have taken her to the park. She greedily flopped down on her Ikea futon and prepared to devour a few moments of toddler-free stillness. Cheap plastic “educational” toys littered the small two- bedroom flat, the kitchen smelled of soggy Cheerios and stagnant water, but all of that could wait. Like any mother, Lisa was keenly aware that any opportunity for silence must be grabbed.
While domestic improvements weren’t on her immediate To-Do list, somehow self-improvement always seemed to demand a place amongst her quiet thoughts. Dear Lisa, they began, Here’s what’s wrong with you…
Awkward is a word used to describe beings in a state of transition; a lanky self-conscious teen, a clumsy child sloshing juice, a recently birthed deer just gaining use of its still slimy hind legs. Lisa didn’t feel awkward so much as perpetually misplaced. Most individuals seem to have that group with which they fit perfectly, blend in, and almost become comfortably invisible. These groups serve as affirmations of an individuals belonging in a world full of rough patches and mysterious, dimly-lit bends. For Lisa, this luxury proved either too expensive or rare; she wasn’t sure which.
Unlike River, Dawn, and Meeghan, she didn’t really have a circle in which she functioned beyond their quartet. Her friends left their quirky coffee table to real social lives rich with people who matched them in thought and lifestyle.
She thought about the nights she was able to spend with River, laughing quietly on the phone until 3 AM in complete denial of how the sleep deprivation would affect her ability to function in the morning. But when River invited her to a PETA function last month to intermingle with her coworkers, Lisa spend the time between the vegan cheese and rice cracker spread and hiding behind the string trio.
Camouflage didn’t seem to help either. She remembered the care with which she walked in the $1,300 Vera gown Meegahn lent her for a charity auction in Sausalito. By the end of the evening Lisa had managed to secure more clumsy interactions than her dress had sequins.
Even with Dawn, Lisa didn’t understand how to deepen their friendship to extend into the greater social scene of San Francisco. Dawn had been her college Resident Advisor; keeper of the Roommate Transfer Request binder and enforcer of music decibel levels. It would have been unheard of for a Senior to spend hours giggling in a Freshman’s dorm room so they settled for weekday lunches off campus. Sometimes when they’re out together, even now, Lisa still feels as if she’s fraternizing with a superior.
“I need some friends who are just like me,” Lisa thought. Before she could ponder how she’d find such unlucky, kindred spirits she could hear the laugh and jumble of Thomas and Grace at the door. Their voices were muffled until the door flew open and their happy energy spilled into the apartment banishing Lisa’s angst into oblivion.
“Mama!” Grace, 12 months and built like a truck, plowed through magazines, pillows, and ABC blocks to jump hug her mother.
“Did you and Wisteria Lane have a nice afternoon?” Thomas was already pulling items out of the freezer to prepare dinner. So on task. All the time.
“Yes, thank you. Dawn says ‘hello.’” It wasn’t until the sentence had already escaped that she regretted saying it.
“Any word from her on – ”
“No, not yet, she’s working on it.”
The lie hung in the air like poison gas.
With his face inside of the fridge, Tom continued. “Well, let her know that in a couple of months my work will probably pick up. I’d love to help with her company’s graphic design needs but first come, first served.”
He always got superficially arrogant when feeling vulnerable.
“I’ll let her know. Sometimes these things just have to go through the channels.”
“She’s the CEO, seems like she’d pretty much be the only channel we need.”
A second wave of poison gas. His “we” was pointed and sharp, a reminder from her dear husband that marriage vows are thicker than lattes.
Lisa shifted her attention to the quiet toddler laying in her arms, exhausted from the jungle gym but keenly aware of the tension in the room. She wondered if these mild but spicy conversations didn’t upset Grace in the same way that her parents’ late night screaming matches did. Sure, she and Tom were quieter and rarely raised their voices but was it disturbing to see your two rocks butt heads no matter the volume level?
The sizzle of chopped vegetables hitting a hot, oiled pain cut through the apartment. As Tom bustled skillfully around the kitchen rinsing rice, slicing tofu and washing dishes, Lisa, more out of a need to feel productive than from instinct took Grace into the apartment’s lone bathroom. Somehow in Tom’s presence she felt more like a nanny, or unskilled intern, than a wife and mother; she was constantly checking her internal manual and looking for external cues on what to do next. When would her naturally-domestic-woman chip activate?
Grace stood dirty and proud on the white bathroom tile trying to grab strands of her mother’s hair while she gently stripped his sandy clothes away from her body, being careful to keep the mess contained.
The rush of warm water filling the tub around her child drowned out her babble, the sounds of dinner being made, and most importantly, her thoughts. It wouldn’t be until 10:45 that evening until she’d discover it had also covered the sounds of 5 missed phone calls from Meeghan.
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