Read Every Other Saturday Online
Authors: M.J. Pullen
Every Other Saturday
Contents
Every Other Saturday
M.J. Pullen
August 2015
♦
Atlanta, GA
Every Other Saturday
Copyright © 2015 by Amanda Pullen Turetsky
All Rights Reserved.
For my family, and all families.
Our youth got me to play the woman's part,
And I was trimmed in Madam Julia's gown,
Which served me as fit, by all men's judgments,
As if the garment had been made for me;
Therefore I know she is about my height.
And at that time I made her weep agood,
For I did play a lamentable part...
Julia, in
Two Gentlemen of Verona (4.4.169-175)
−William Shakespeare
For all my success with the Ramones,
I carried around fury and intensity during my career.
I had an image, and that image was anger.
I was the one who was always scowling, downcast.
I tried to make sure I looked like that
when I was getting my picture taken.
−Johnny Ramone
Do not ask questions of fairy tales.
−Jewish Proverb
Dave
“I think you should go on J-Date.”
Lyric examined her hot dog as though it were a delicacy from an exotic country. The way she wrinkled her four-year-old nose reminded Dave so much of his ex-wife it was painful.
He was stopped with the third chili-slaw dog halfway to his mouth. “How did you hear about J-Date?”
“From Rachel. Her aunt went on J-Date and found somebody to marry. Rachel gets to be a flower girl in the wedding.” She took a tiny bite of the hot dog and chewed appraisingly. The traditional Varsity paper hat was nestled awkwardly into her wild straw-colored curls, streaked with blonde. It was early August, their last Wednesday of the hot Georgia summer. Dave thought a trip to Atlanta’s oldest fast-food institution was in order.
“You think I need to find someone to marry?”
“Daddy. You are very handsome.” Beneath her curls, she gave him a sympathetic look. Dave marveled for the millionth time that he had helped create this perfect little person.
“Are we talking about Rachel from your class? Rachel Epstein?”
Lyric rolled her eyes. Classic Debbie, only smaller and cuter. “What other Rachel would I be talking about? She gets to wear a twirly white dress with lace and a black ribbon and shiny black shoes for dancing…”
“Wait. Is her aunt the one with the curly blonde hair? The one who came to the Hanukkah party last year?”
Lyric shrugged. “I guess so. I want to be a flower girl, too, Daddy.”
“Rachel’s aunt was on J-Date?” If he remembered correctly, Rachel’s aunt was
hot
.
“Yeah, she was about to turn into a bird.”
“A bird?” Dave took an icy slurp of his Frosted Orange—the Varsity’s signature frozen dessert that was half milkshake, half Creamsicle.
Lyric nodded seriously. “If a girl doesn’t get married on time, she turns into a bird. Rachel said she heard her mom say her aunt was already getting bird feet.”
When he worked it out, the laugh almost made him choke. “Baby, are you talking about crow’s feet?”
“It’s not funny,” she said. “Girls should not have bird feet.”
Despite several minutes of squinting across the table and pointing at the creases next to his eyes, she still seemed to doubt his explanation. Finally he settled for, “I don’t mind crow’s feet on a pretty girl. And I will love you forever, even if you have monkey feet.”
This sent her into a fit of giggles, and they drank their Frosted Oranges, discussing the different types of animal feet they would like to have if they could.
“What are we doing next?” Lyric wiped a pale orange mustache with the back of her hand.
“I thought we’d go see where the big girls play basketball at Georgia Tech.”
Lyric was tall like her mom, and Dave hoped she might one day be interested in basketball. Not that he’d pressure her. But he’d pulled some strings with Tech’s athletic director, and arranged for a personal tour this afternoon. He could show her the locker rooms and the trophies and maybe get her a team ball. It couldn’t hurt. “Isn’t that exciting?”
She shrugged. Damn. He’d chosen wrong again. “Or we could do the zoo? I’m okay if you want to do something different.”
Lyric’s bottom lip jutted out. “I was hoping we could meet Mommy at the movies.”
“Mommy’s going to the movies today? By herself?” He knew it was wrong to ask his daughter about her mom. But Debbie hadn’t mentioned a date this week. Not that he cared.
“Nope,” Lyric said. “With Uncle Aaron. That’s why I wanted to go.”
Dave stopped cold. “Uncle Aaron? As in, Daddy’s best friend Aaron?”
The words rattled their way out of his mouth.
# # #
The next morning, Dave crept into the back of the synagogue where the parents’ meeting for Tree of Life Preschool was underway. He adjusted the hot pink yarmulke he had grabbed without looking on his way into the sanctuary, the satiny skullcap refusing to sit comfortably on his unruly hair.
He was late. The PTA president, Mia Mendel’s Mom, was already at the podium, talking about “wonderful volunteer opportunities” and “fun new programming.” He didn’t know her well, but she was an odd choice for PTA president: quiet and strange, with odd clothing and the rose tattoo on the back of her neck. She just didn’t fit the part. As Dave looked around for a seat, she paused to send him an icy glare over her thick-framed glasses.
Debbie spotted him then, shooting him an “I can’t believe you are twenty-three minutes late” look from the front row. She wore a conspicuously expensive t-shirt and Hermes scarf with jeans—her version of mommy casual. When Dave acknowledged her with a nod, she tossed her long, straightened hair and turned primly to pretend she was rapt in whatever Mia Mendel’s Mom was saying.
On his way up front, Dave glanced longingly at the seat he really wanted: an inconspicuous spot in the middle next to Max, one of his two oldest friends. Max and his wife Lianne were new to the preschool this year; their son Cooper was starting in the toddler class. They nodded to him as he passed, looking like two deer caught in the headlights.
“What did I miss?” he whispered, as Debbie moved her oversize Louis Vuitton bag to make room for him.
She leaned close enough that he could smell her perfume. “Dr. Vega spoke already,” she hissed. “New curriculum for phonics in pre-K this year. Car pool rule changes.”
“Shouldn’t this be a mandatory meeting for the NASCAR nanny too?” he whispered back. It was widely known that little Sarah Goldman was picked up every afternoon by a twenty-two-year-old nanny who, Dave was convinced, could’ve held her own in any stock car race.
Debbie stifled a laugh, which gratified him. Lyric was definitely wrong about Aaron. A quick, pointed look from Mrs. Mendel hushed them both, however, and Debbie sat forward on the cushioned pew like an obedient puppy.
Julie—Judy?—Mendel was going on about all the fund-raising activities the PTA had planned for the year: frozen yogurt night, pizza night, gourmet pizza night, chicken sandwich night, car wash, Friday donuts with the dads, the Hanukkah Carnival and silent auction, Purim carnival, Chuck E. Cheese night. Would it ever end?
“Did you drop her with Ms. Elizabeth?” Debbie whispered.
“They’re on the playground. She knows you’re taking her when this is over.”
“You didn’t feed her a bunch of crap, did you?”
“Would I do that?”
“So you gave her the rice cakes with sunflower butter? And the carrots?”
“Hmmm.”
“
Dave
.”
“I offered it to her,” he said.
“Meaning you sat in the parking lot of that disgusting place and asked her if she’d rather have her healthy lunch or a greasy hot dog?”
“Hey, she can be a vegetarian with you twenty-two and a half days a month. Wednesdays and every other weekend, she can eat like a normal kid.”
“She
is
a normal kid.” Debbie’s voice rose. Dave grinned. He loved that he could still get under her skin.
“Debbie? Did you have a question?” Mia Mendel’s Mom said from the podium.
Julia
. It was definitely Julia. She was more dressed up than usual: wearing a satiny aqua shirt that strained across her chest and a chunky metal necklace, black hair in short braids on either side. Red lipstick.
Maybe Lyric was right; he did need to start dating again.
“Not at all,” Debbie said next to him, dripping with sweetness. “We were just discussing the Hanukkah auction. Dave was saying he’d be happy to help this year.”
He elbowed Debbie in protest as Julia Mendel’s face tightened. “Great,” she said, teeth gritted. “We need leaders for the whole carnival. Can I put the two of you down as co-chairs?”
Debbie stiffened. “Of course.”
“No,” Dave hissed at the same time.
“That’s so nice, thank you.” Julia’s voice trembled just a bit. “See, it’s easy to help bring all these wonderful programs to our kids. Feel free to speak up if you hear something you’d like to take the lead on. Or just use the sign-up sheets in the classrooms. Tuition payments go toward all the great instruction and just paying the bills here, but the kids are counting on these fundraisers for the field trips and the other little extras. Okay, let’s move on…”
When the meeting adjourned twenty minutes later, and the parents filed out to collect their kids from the playground and classrooms, he held Debbie’s elbow to keep her from walking away.
“What?” she said.
“Lyric’s bag is in the truck. Why don’t you come out and I’ll put it in your car?” He was going to ask her about Aaron and settle this right now.
“Can you just transfer it for me? I want to catch up with Dr. Vega. You still have a car key, don’t you?”
Dave nodded. “Sure. I just…”
“Thanks.” Debbie kissed his cheek lightly and was hurrying into the exiting crowd before he could say more. Which was probably good, he thought, watching her silky caramel hair disappear through the doors of the sanctuary. Dave felt someone’s eyes on him to his right, and turned just in time to see Mia Mendel’s Mom look hurriedly away.