Cookie Cutter (15 page)

We both laugh.

“I guess I can be a little high and mighty sometimes.”

She raises one of her perfectly shaped eyebrows at me. “A little?”

I can’t help but adore her complete upfront and unabashed frankness. I make a vow to get to know this woman better. “Thanks for accepting my apology. You didn’t have to.”

“I know. Thanks for giving it.”

We both stand there, not knowing exactly what to do next until she says, “Wanna come in for some coffee or somethin’?”

“I’d love to,” I say, despite the fact I’ve a ton of things to do today – a calm before the storm sounds nice.

Her home is charming inside. It’s plain and simple, with clean lines and muted colors. She doesn’t have a ton of furniture, but what she does have, she makes work and I find myself more comfortable here than I’d ever expected. She makes me coffee and it’s de-lish. She sits down and kicks her boots off. It’s quiet between the two of us for a few minutes and it seems that now that the awkward apology is over, I can’t think of a thing to say. So Alex does it for me.

“I’m not a hooker by the way.”

I choke on my coffee. Spit some out even. “What?”

“Or a stripper.”

“I didn’t . . .” I start to tell her I never thought she was but the truth is, I did. I let what certain people in this community say influence my opinion when I had no clue whatsoever if it was true or not because I didn’t have the sense to call them out.

Never again.

“I’m sorry, I---”

“It’s cool,” she says. “I know how some people are.  I just wanted to set the record straight.”

I take a sip of my coffee and decide to tell her, “My parents didn’t leave me a ridiculous amount of money, either.” For the record.

She nods. “Touché.”

“So, what do you do?” I ask, interested for once.

And she tells me.

* * *

Despite the fact I’ve made myself late by socializing, I leave Alex’s house feeling pretty great.

“Are you sure you don’t need some help? I don’t have big plans for the day or anything,” she says with a slight chuckle. I’m slightly overwhelmed at how awesome she is, considering how awful I’ve been the past couple of years.

“Honest, no. I just have to pick some things up and drop them off for . . . are you coming by later?”

“Oh, probably not,” she says. Although Alex doesn’t exactly seem the carnival type, I’m willing to bet somewhere inside, she kinda wants to go.

“Please come. It’s for the whole town.”

She thinks it over, looking more like she’s leaning toward a resounding no as opposed to a half-hearted maybe.

“There’s great prizes,” I promise with a lighthearted sarcastic undertone. “And bounce houses.”

Alex forces a frown. But it’s not genuine. “I do love bounce houses.”

I grin wide. “I’ll see you there, then?”

She laughs and shakes her head at me as she turns to go back inside. I run across the street to get my keys and begin my very long day of errand running and carnival prepping. I’m almost back in the car when I’m delayed again.

“What pray tell were you doing talking with Slumdog Spangler girl?”

She did not just say that.

“Meg, that’s not nice!”

She pulls her pink fluffy robe around her tight. “Okay, fine, but seriously. What were you doing?”

It’s like all of a sudden, I’m getting grilled by my best friend. I don’t have time to tell her it’s none of her business. I know better; that only turns into a longer conversation than I have time for today. So I spit it out.

“I kind of owed her an apology.”

“For what? Stealing one of her Johns?”

“She’s not a hooker, Meg.”

“Stripper patrons, then.”

“She’s not a stripper either.”

“Right.”

“She bartends.”

“HA!”

“And dances some – but never takes her clothes off.” I clarify. “And puts herself through school.”

Meg rolls her eyes. “Whatev!”

“She’s really not that bad – actually, she’s kind of . . . I don’t know, nice.”

My oldest friend in Spangler lets out a belt of a laugh. “You’re joking, right?”

“No.”

“Iris. Honey . . .”

She puts her arm around me and really . . .

“I don’t have time for a lecture, Meg, I have a million things to do today.” I give her a pointed look. “And so do you.”

“I know, I know,” she says, annoyed. “Believe me, I know.”

Luckily, my reminder has put Alex out of Meg’s mind for the time being. However, now I’m twice as stressed because her reaction to my reminder is not the most inspirational. “You do have everything taken care of, right, Meg?”

She waves me off. “Of course I do, silly, I’m just as tightly wound as you are about it. Don’t worry, I’ll have everything on my list scratched off by five p.m.”

She smiles, showing me all her teeth and I have to laugh. She knows how to bring me down from the edge.

I breathe. “Okay, I’m off, I’ll meet you over there.”

She salutes me as I get into the car and leave and I am officially on my way to stop number one.

* * *

    Running around like a chicken with your head cut off for the majority of the weekend is not my idea of bliss, however, I could not have asked for my day to have gone any smoother than it has. The ride tickets, which had to be reprinted because the numbers were all the same, are ready first thing for pick up. It’s also double coupon day at Sam’s Club so I get twice as many snacks for the snack bar. Plenty of Beta club volunteers had signed up to assist with miscellaneous work at the carnival,
my alternate solution to not hiring a handyman
. And although it was the longest wait time ever, to get the extra tables I needed for the silent auction, it’s worth it. To celebrate, I hit the bank on my way home for change, dollar bills, and deposit envelopes. I have just enough time to shower and change.

I find a note from Ally, saying she’ll meet me there and asking if I thought about her situation or not. In all honesty, I haven’t. I haven’t really had time but since I do now, I take a moment to think about what she said the other night – how she’ll be the only dance team member not going, and how it will make her feel like the world’s biggest jerk if she doesn’t go. Normally, I wouldn’t care; what people think isn’t something Ally should worry about. It’s great that she’s in a club and doing something active and all, but what she needs to focus on is her grades and getting into a good college when high school is over. We’ve been over this so many times, but right now, I think about the carnival and how I might feel if I didn’t show up when my whole team is there. I can empathize with my daughter for what feels like the first time in . . . forever.

I don’t have time to wallow in self-realization right now. I need to get over to the carnival. So I finish dressing and by five o’clock I’m already knee-deep in getting the ball rolling over at the event grounds. I’ll admit, I might look around to see if Carter is there yet but he’s not. And why should he be? I nixed his involvement myself.

Dummy.

At around six, I spot Meg, already working with the Beta Club members and getting them assigned to different areas as people begin to arrive for the festivities. I check for Carter again, but nothing. I’m starting to wonder if maybe he changed his mind, too.

It’s still early, Iris.

“He said seven. It’s only six,” I remind myself.

And besides, I thought you didn’t want to do this anyway?

I shake the second guessing off and continue on with making sure everyone is where they’re supposed to be and everything is going the way it’s supposed to go.

At seven, the carnival is in full swing. We have a fantastic turnout this year and I’m excited to see that Alex has shown up with a . . . friend?  She waves but we’re too far from each other to try and chat so I start setting up the silent auction tables. I check my watch for the fifth time in ten minutes and when the time is seven-o-three, I look toward the entrance to the carnival but still no Carter. My body slumps when I don’t see him. The excitement going on around me seems to fade and I know I look visibly disappointed when Meg taps me on the shoulder and asks, “Who peed in your oatmeal, Iris?”

I don’t really want to share anything about what’s wrong with me with her right now. I don’t feel like listening to her sarcastic remarks about what my libido may or may not need, so I try to smile. “No one.”

“I’m taking a quick break,” she says, satisfied that I’m “fine” and then adds, “Do you need anything before I take off?”

“You going somewhere?”

“No, I just wanted to head home and maybe grab a jacket; it’s getting chilly out here.” She smiles. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, no, go ahead, I’ve got everything covered here.”

She leaves in a hurry and I straighten a few auction baskets. I should probably check in with my ticket takers to see if they need any money, food or drinks. I turn to head that way and stop short. Carter’s standing there, leaning against one of the light poles like an older, much sexier James Dean, complete with his jean jacket and brooding look on his face. I flatten my hands against my skirt and straighten my posture before letting him know I’m here. Just as I’m about to take a step in his direction, his head turns and he sees me. He pushes himself away from the pole and heads straight for me.

“Here we go.” And so many things run through my mind as I walk to meet him halfway.

It’s just a date, Iris. No big deal.

I hope that Ferris wheel guy we had issues with earlier isn’t drunk.

Did I remember to take the refills over to the cotton candy machine?

Why didn’t I wear my heels?  This skirt looks so bad with flats.

“Hey, Iris?” he says when we’re close enough to one another. His voice puts my whole being at ease. I smile easy and look up at him.

“Hey, yourself, I’ve been looking for you the past couple of days.”

“I’ve been avoiding you the past couple days,” he says.

I can’t hide my chagrin. “Oh?”

But Carter grins down at me. “I knew you’d be trying to find a way to get out of this date.”

The blood rushes to my face must show because Carter nods. “You were, weren’t you?”

I shrug. “Maybe.” But I’m glad I didn’t.

He’s absolutely stunning with the moon glowing against his face, and when he leans his head toward mine, my breath catches. “And now?”

I have to lick my lips and swallow. My throat is so dry all of a sudden. “Now?”

“Do you still want out, Iris?” He holds his face close to mine.

My head moves from side to side but I can’t form words right now. I’m too lost inside his eyes.

“Good,” he says with a seriousness I don’t believe I’ve heard in his voice before. Then he stands straight again, takes my hand in his and we begin our “date”.

Chapter 12. Carter

“So what do you want to do first, Iris?  The Ferris wheel? The swings? A game maybe? Pick your poison.”

“I need to check in with a few of the booths first, and the ticket takers, if that’s okay.”

“Absolutely.” I offer my arm. “May I escort you Ms. Alden?”

And she takes it. “Sure.”

Iris leads us away from the chaos, behind the booths and food trucks, where electrical cords and generators live. The sound of people screaming on rides and hollering for attention is muffled by our makeshift sound barrier. She doesn’t seem like she’s in a hurry but despite that, she trips over the first pile of cables we come to.

I quickly whip my arm around her to catch her. “Gotcha.”

Iris grabs a hold of my shoulders for support.

“You’re very good at that,” she says, breathless as I stand her upright again.

“You know as often as you trip over things, I’m surprised you’re as determined to work out as hard as you do.”

“What do you mean?”

“Spin class – you’re like a pro but get you into the real world and . . .” I do a fake trip for her.

“
Not
spinning is not an option,” she says. “I have to stay in shape if I expect to stay in the game.”

“The game?”

“Yeah, you know – I don’t want to be one of those old divorcees that gets all frumpy and has a thousand cats or something.”

“You’ve been reading too many sad novels, Iris.”

She laughs. “Well now you know my reasons, at least.”

“True.”

“What about you, Carter?”

“What about me?”

“When did you start flipping houses?”

I breathe out. “Long story.”

“And?”

I guess we’re doing back stories.

“Okay, um, I learned to build things when I was young but school and career kinda put that sort of stuff on the back burner, until I realized school is overrated and I hated my career so . . .”

“Why do I get the feeling there’s more that story than you’re letting on?” She narrows her eyes at me.

“Because you’re a very perceptive, woman.”

“Care to elaborate?”

I do and I don’t. I’m not typically one to share my life story or anything but Iris is easy to talk to and sometimes I think it’d be nice to get some things off my chest.

However . . . “Not tonight.”

She nods. “Fine, hoarder.”

“What?”

“I feel like you know so much about me already and I know nothing about you, that’s all.”

“There’s isn’t a lot to tell, Iris, believe me.”

We come to our first stop, which is the dart throw and Iris let’s go of my arm to go talk to the person handling this game. It strikes me as funny how flustered this guy seems, considering no one is waiting to play, but he swears he needs help replacing the popped balloons that once adorned his wall so more people can play the game.  She helps them open up a new box of balloons and starts blowing a few up. I help. Once all the empty spaces on the wall are filled again, she gives the guy a hug and we continue our path behind the scenes.

Next, we make sure the beta volunteers she gathered to help out have water and snacks. We hit up the cotton candy machine, the popcorn vendor and the ticket takers, where Iris offers to take when they’ve already collected to the bank. I’m glad when one of the women insists she doesn’t have to. Iris hesitates to leave them but eventually caves and when she sees her daughter a few booths away; she slows, then finds a free table to lean up against for a minute. She has a far-away look in her eyes and I wonder out loud. “What are you thinking about?”

“I’m debating letting her go to that party she wants to attend so badly.”

Surprised, I nod in approval and find a spot to join her. “Yeah?”

“Mmm Hmm. Only I’m too worried she’ll get hurt or left, or . . . raped by some jock-head in a back room somewhere.”

“Will it help if I throw some statistics at you?”

“Maybe.”

“Did you know that only point
ten percent of girls who attend parties actually get so drunk they’re not in control of themselves?”

She tilts her head. Interested.

“And only five percent of them are actually under age.”

“Really?”

He shrugs. “I have no idea. I made that shit up.”

She laughs.

“What I do know is, the bad things that happen these days are very rare. The news just likes to replay them over and over for dramatic effect.”

She thinks it over as she watches her daughter. “I didn’t go out much when I was her age.”

“No kidding,” I joke and she bumps me with her hip.

“I met James in high school, we went to the same college, he asked me to marry him, we planned out exactly when we’d have a child and,” she points, “there she is.”

“You only wanted one?”

She shrugs. “I wanted more, but Ally was a difficult labor, and James . . .”

I don’t ask her to finish her thought. I feel like I’m intruding if I push, even though I have to admit, I’m curious.

“Anyway,” she says. “It’s hard to let go, I guess.”

“Why do I get the impression there’s more to that story than you’re letting on?” I throw her own words back at her from earlier.

Iris snickers. “Isn’t there always?”

“True that.” Even though we’re talking about two entirely different things – Iris about her daughter and me about a career that my father wanted for me more than I did for myself.

She steps away from the table. “Well, it’s now or never, I guess.”

We walk over to where Ally’s standing at her booth but she’s not really paying attention to anyone that passes by. She’s chit-chatting with her girlfriends who are huddled around her.

“Ally.”

“Oh.” She stands up straight. “Hey mom, I---” She stops in mid-sentence when she sees me with Iris. It doesn’t surprise me but the look of disgust on her face kinda hurts my feelings a little bit.

“Hi girls,” Iris says to her daughter’s friends and they all say ‘hi’ politely and all, but boy does every one of them look at her like they are just dying to beg her to let Ally go to that party.

Little do they know.

“Um, honey, can I talk to you for a minute?”

Ally nods and tells her friends she’ll be right back. She tosses the baseball she’s holding to a fellow carnie. “Take over for a minute.”

Iris and Ally step aside and I’m left standing with a group of fifteen year olds who look like they’d rather be doing anything else than getting caught with some old dude who’s hanging out with the enemy. Ally squeals in delight and does that jumpy-clappy thing that teenage girls know how to do so well. She hugs her mom so tightly I think she might hurt her. The deed has been done and even Iris is smiling at the outcome. Ally takes her smock off and throws it at the poor girl left to handle the booth for the remainder of the evening alone and runs off with her friends. Then they
all
squeal and jump up and down and head toward the exit of the carnival.  

“You did you good thing there, Iris.”

She breathes in deep and lets it out. “I sure hope so.”

“She’s fifteen, she’ll be fine and she’s with friends.”

Iris nods. “Yeah, fine.”

I try my hand at distracting her. “Hey lets go ride something.”

“I’m coordinating this event, Carter, I can’t go and . . . have
fun
.”

“Why not?”

“Because…” she starts, trying to come up with a reason but she’s got nothing. She’s knows it and I know it. “I just can’t.”

Lame.

“It’s not gonna kill you to be an active participant in the carnival, you know.”

“I know, I just . . .” She looks away.

Clearly I’m going to need to push a little harder here. “Look at this way, you’re coordinator, you have to make sure the rides you’ve rented are safe, right?”

“Maybe.”

“So, let’s . . . test them out.” I smile huge and waggle my eyebrows for her.  Then I hold out the string of tickets I purchased earlier before I headed off to look for her. “I’d hate for these to go to waste.”

She smiles and I know I’ve convinced her – for now at least. We run to the Ferris wheel and I give the guy three tickets each, then we slide into our seat and as we rise above the grounds. Iris has the rail in a death grip.

“You okay?” I chuckle.

She shakes her head. “No, yeah I’m fine. I get a little nervous being
this
high up, that’s all.”

“Fear of heights, Iris? I never would have guessed.”

“It’s not
exactly
a fear, more like a . . . healthy skepticism of carnival rides.”

I let out a loud laugh this time, not even trying to hold it in. She is too much.

“Here.” I put an arm around her and pull her close to me. “I’ll make sure you don’t go anywhere.”

She lets me hold on to her but she tenses beside me so I try not to make anything of it. “We’re just two friends riding a Ferris wheel, Iris, relax.”

“Yep, just friends,” she says and I get the feeling that I’ve offended her. So I correct myself.

“We’re more than friends though, don’t you think?”

“Well we’re not lovers, that’s for sure,” she jokes a little too loudly.

“More than friends then,” I say with a squeeze to her shoulder. “Less than lovers.”

It’s quiet after that and when the ride ends and I help her off of the platform. Then my phone rings and I can’t ignore it because it’s Spence from up at Maryland University.

I stare at the screen as the ringtone sounds again, unsure what to do. I don’t want to ignore Iris, especially after my snafu up on the Ferris wheel, but I don’t want to ignore Spencer either. It could be urgent.

“Are you going to get that?” Iris asks.

“Um, yeah, I think . . . do you mind?”

She shrugs, with a shake of her head so I take a few steps away from Iris and the noise of the event going on around us.

“Spence?”

Crackling sounds from the other end, then the call ends.

I dial him back but get voice mail, and now I’m worried, so I go find a spot on the grounds that has better service and try one more time. He answers this time.

“Hey.”

And I can hear him.

“How are you, buddy? Everything alright?”

“No, yeah, it’s good, but um . . .”

“What?”

“I got a letter from the dean of students today.”

“About what? What’s wrong? Is it your grades? You’re not slackin’ again are ya?”

“No.” He laughs. “But he um . . . said we . . . missed a payment, so---”

I press a finger against my free ear to try and hear better. “Wait, what? Not possible, I sent it two weeks ago.”

He breathes out, relieved. The kid hates talking about money with me. It took a lot for him to make this call, I’m sure.

“That’s what I thought but he said it hasn’t shown up on the books yet and I didn’t know what else to do. Dude, I’m sorry I’m bugging you, I can tell you’re out somewhere.”

“No way, Spence, listen, you call me whenever you need to okay? I’m always here.”

“Sure, yeah, I know.”

“I’ll call him tomorrow. We’ll take care of this. Don’t worry, you just go to class and get your degree, okay?”

“Okay.” I know Spence; he’ll stress over this for days so I give him something else to think about. “I miss you buddy.”

“You too,” he says, quieter now.

“We’ll have to set up a visitation sometime soon when you’re free.”

“You mean when
you’re
free.” And although he’s trying to come off like he’s joking, I know he’s not. I can hear it in his voice. It’s the same tone I hear in my brother’s voice when I’ve let him down.  Only for some reason, this feels worse. I’ve been neglectful ever since leaving California. I know this. I’ve never been very good at apologies though.

“Absolutely.”

Spencer lets out another pointed sigh. “Okay, thanks, Carter. Sorry again for buggin’ you.”

“Don’t even worry about it. We’ll talk soon.”

“’kay.”

“See ya.”

The call ends and I need a few minutes before I re-join Iris. I don’t want this date to take a turn for the worse because I’ve got commitments and concerns on my mind. I take a walk around the grounds and find her again about ten minutes or so later. She seems different. Relaxed? High?

“There you are.” She pets my arm and gives me a sly smile when I step up to the . . . bar?

“Something I had to take care of. Are you okay?”

“Oh yeah.” She waves at the air. “I think it’s all just hitting me all at once and all of a sudden.”