Lauren Takes Leave (21 page)

We sit in silence for a few minutes, Kat still clicking
away while I think of something to take my mind off my less-than-graceful exit
and current humiliation.

“You were in a hurry to get out of there,” I realize.

“Hmm.”

“That’s very descriptive.”

“Yup.”

I pull back and wait, but, in typical Kat fashion, she
isn’t forthcoming. “Done,” she says, looking satisfied. “We’re going.”

“We’ve left,” I point out.

“Not quite. We’ve left
there
,” she says, pointing
toward Leslie’s house, “and tomorrow, we’re going
here
.” She holds the
phone out to me, showing an image of white sand and turquoise water.

“I don’t get it,” I say to the screen. “It looks awesome,
though, whatever it is.”

“It’s Miami.” Her eyes look bright, in that same
unnatural, vampire way. “I just booked two seats on the seven a.m.”

“Two seats. To Miami. Tomorrow,” I say.

Kat nods and finds a cuticle to bite.

“For us,” I clarify.

She nods again, really digging into that nail with her
teeth.

It’s an amazingly stupid idea. I mean, it’s easy for Kat
to just pick up and leave, but how am I going to pull off something like that?
I have children, for God’s sake! A husband! A job.

“Nice try,” I say, handing the phone back to her.

Well, a job that thinks I’m on jury duty. And a babysitter
lined up for tomorrow night. And a husband who cancelled on me and is working
late.

So, really, no one needs me. No one cares.

Maybe no one will even
notice
I’m gone.

“Give me that phone back.” Kat looks surprised but passes
it to me. I stare at the picture and imagine it’s got smell-o-vision, as
sea-salt air and balmy nights fill my nostrils. Coconut and pineapple mixed
with rum. Suntan lotion spiked with aloe vera, silky to the touch.

And no children begging for me to build a sand castle.

“Something happened back there, at Leslie’s,” Kat says.

I know this; I caused it. “Duh,” I say.

She shakes her curls at me. “No, with
me
, idiot. Me
and…Shay.”

I stare at Kat to see if she’s joking. She’s not.

I think of all that sexual tension in the house, all those
women, all that alcohol and lingerie.

And Shay, beautiful Shay, licking my hand.

I want to say something funny, like,
You mean, like…a
Katy Perry sort of thing?
“
I kissed a girl and I liked it / The taste of
her cherry Chapstick?
” But I’m trying to be mature and cool here. This is
about to be my first discussion about girl-on-girl action, and I want to do it
right. I settle on “Could you
define
this thing that happened back at
the house with you and Shay?”

“We kind of made out,” Kat admits, making a face and
confirming my fears. “Things got…interesting. I think she might have touched my…”

“
I don’t want to know
!” I shout, covering my ears
like there’s a spoiler alert for a new blockbuster coming over the radio. I try
to drown out her words with a “Lalalalalalalala!”

“I
know
!” Kat agrees. “I am fucking freaking out!”

“Shay is our girl-crush, dude! That means that you
admire
her, you don’t…
fondle
her or whatever!”

“I know! It’s like girl-crush gone wild!” she yells.

“Pervert!” I yell back.

“I am!” Kat agrees. “I don’t know what came over me. I mean,
one minute I’m asking her where she gets her hair color done, and the next
minute we’re rolling around like female wrestlers…” Kat trails off, thank God.

“Holy crapamoly,” I say. The grass is wet from the
sprinklers, and my feet and butt are starting to get numb with cold. I have to
ask the next question now or I know I never will. “Did you, you know, like it?”

“Sort of.” Kat takes out a cigarette and lights it. I hold
out my hand and she passes it to me.

One drag goes right to my head. I cough out the nicotine
and wait for more information.

“There were too many parts up top and not enough junk down
below.” I nod my head to pretend that I’m perfectly able to hear all about this
without being weirded out. Kat continues. “I was, like, into it and watching
myself at the same time, wondering stupid shit, like,
What’s the name of
that perfume she’s wearing? I wonder if it would smell that nice on me?
But
then again, her kisses were soft and her mouth was sort of exciting. And I’d
had too much to drink, obviously, so everything was kind of askew, confusing,
you know?”

“Uh-huh.”

Kat pauses, takes a drag, studies me. “You’re looking at
me strange.”

“No, no I’m not.” Okay maybe I am. Maybe I’m worried just
a tad that my old friend Kat, who I thought I knew so well, who has broken up
with her scumbag husband, is actually a coming-out-of-the-closet lesbian and
now she’s trying to take me away with her to Miami to seduce me on the beach.

“Lauren, I’m not
gay,
” she says, meeting my eyes.
“I’m just, I don’t know, messed up right now. Plus,” she laughs, “you’re not my
type.”

I’m simultaneously insulted and relieved. “I know I’m not
as hot as your first kiss,” I say. “But what’s that saying? Once you’ve tried
Shay, you’re always gay?”

“Start with Shay, it’s the only way?” Kat adds.

I laugh, but tell her the truth. “I’m a little bit afraid
of you right now.”

“Get over it and come with me to South Beach. Separate
beds. We’ll just shower together.”

“Ha,” I say. “I need a minute. Just be quiet for one
minute.”

She leans toward me. “
You
were the one who
suggested that we drink more to make the party more fun, if I may remind you.”

“That’s not being quiet.” I close my eyes. I need to sober
up and think clearly here. I need to make a rational decision.

Noise from the street causes me to open my eyes. Kat has
her head sticking through an opening in the bushes and is talking to a small
group of partygoers heading to their cars.

“You didn’t hear?” one of the women asks us.

“Hear what?” Kat asks back.

“Shay Greene. Her husband called her just now to say the
votes are
finally
counted. Someone was contesting the decision, but now
it’s all sorted out and…Shay won!”

“Won what?” I ask, fearing that I already know the answer.
My stomach sinks in apprehension.

“Shay’s the new president of the school board,” the woman
announces.

“Of course she is!” Kat says. Then she mutters to herself,
“Jesus Fucking H. Christ.”

“Thanks for the news!” I call, waving the group away
although they can’t see me doing it.

“Hey, Lauren, is that you hiding in the bushes with Kat?”
I hear my friend Susie ask.

“Yes, it sure is!”

She bends down and catches my eye through the pine
needles. “You know, Leslie’s on the phone with her dad. He’s a partner at West,
Hunter, and Harrison. I think she’s planning to sue you. The whole incident was
caught on the nanny cam; Leslie had them installed everywhere after that last
babysitter, remember?”

Kat gives me a look. “Nanny cam?” she mouths. She looks
like I feel: spooked.

Susie continues. “Just thought I’d give you the heads-up.
Ciao, ladies!”

My pole dancing was caught on videotape.

I’m getting sued.

Everyone in town is going to be talking about me.

“Nanny cam?” Kat repeats, this time in an
I-see-dead-people stage whisper.

“Do you think Leslie has cameras in the bathrooms?” I
wonder, worried about my lovefest with the toilet.

“Lauren, focus.” Kat lifts my chin and holds my gaze
steady with hers. “Shay and I weren’t in a bathroom.”

Oh shit. I wasn’t thinking about them.

Kat just kissed the new school board president. Kat just
kissed the new married,
female
school board president, and, in a bedroom
somewhere in Leslie’s house, there’s a teddy bear or a decorative ceramic
object that saw it all.

I think back to Tuesday and that nice French man in the
park with Googly the poodle, talking about his lovely little weekend getaways
to Florida.

I turn to Kat, my heart beating fast. “Miami, did you
say?”

She grabs my hands in hers, clearly freaking big time, her
eyes glowing sort of crazy-like. “Two days, Lauren. That’s it. Till we can
figure out how to handle this. Just to, you know, get out of Dodge.”

“We need to get out of Dodge,” I say. What was an option a
moment ago is now an imperative. There are just too many people to hide from in
Hadley. I think of trying to have a few days of local fun while steering clear
of Martha, Leslie, Shay. Doug. Kat’s husband, Peter. It’s just not possible.

Running away is our
only
way.

“But, we have to be back by Saturday night for Jodi’s
fundraising dance at the temple,” I rationalize.

“I know. I thought of that. We’re booked to come back on
Saturday morning. We’ll have plenty of time to do both.”

My heart is in my throat, a sure sign that I’ve taken
leave of my senses. Either I’ve had too much to drink or am making a
scintillating, albeit potentially dangerous, decision.

Or both.

Kat and I lock eyes, making some sort of unwritten pact.
It’s now or never.
We deserve this
, I imagine her saying.
It will be
a blast
, I say back.
Like skipping school when we were teenagers.
No
one has to know
, we agree.
There’s no nanny cam in Miami.

“I’m in,” I say. Then, realizing what I’ve just committed
to, I say it again, with excitement. “I’m in!”

“You’re welcome!” Kat exclaims. I look at her skeptically.
She shrugs. “I’m just saying. You’re going to thank me for this later. You’ll
see.”

“Thank you or kill you,” I say. “We’ll know by Saturday.”

Kat and I have sobered up a bit but are not what you’d
actually call
sober
. We get a taxi, which pulls up at the same moment as
an ambulance with its lights flashing.

“Oh brother,” Kat sighs. “You are so fucked.” About that,
I would have to agree. We watch from the bushes as Leslie is rolled down her
driveway on a gurney, her black ponytail dragging behind her on the pavement.
When she’s hoisted in the back—with handholding Pam by her side and everyone
else from the party rubbernecking—we make a run for it and dash from the tree
line out into the street, and into the back of the taxi.

“Where to?” the cabbie asks.

“Just get us around this ambulance and off this street!”
Kat directs.

As we pull away, Shay waves to our cab and mouths, with
her fist to her ear, “Call me.”

After the driver drops Kat off at her condo, I have an
epiphany. I check the time, see that it’s just past 11:00, and dial Jodi at
home while the cab makes its way to my house.

Her sultry voice fills my ear, and I can tell I’ve either
interrupted her sleep or her lovemaking. “Hi-yyy! Are you o
kay
?” She
yawns.

“I’m fine! I’m great!”

“You sound high. Are you stoned?”

“Jo, I don’t smoke pot. You do.”

“Oh, right.” She pauses and laughs. “
I’m
high.”

So now I know what I’ve interrupted. “Are you with Lee
right now?” I ask. “Because I need to confide in you; I need to talk to you in
private.”

“Well, I’m with Lee, technically, but he’s passed out on
the couch next to me, so I think we’re cool for the deep, dark secrets,” she
whispers. “Spill.”

“I’m…going away,” I say, taking a deep breath. “I’m…taking
a very small, much-needed, well-deserved vacation tomorrow, and I’m not telling
Doug about it, and in case something horrible should happen to me—or God forbid
to anyone I love—while I’m gone, I need to tell someone where I am going. I
need to tell you where I’ll be.”

“Whoa,” she says. “That’s intense.”

“Sort of is, I guess.”

“You, like,
totally
trust me.”

“I do, Jo.”

“Aw, you’re such an
awesome
friend.” I can imagine
her zoning out in her own little peace-love-marijuana world while I try to tell
her the specifics of my vacation plans.

Jodi may not have been the best person to entrust with
this after all.

“I’ll just e-mail you with the info,” I decide. “Like what
plane we’re on and the name of the hotel in Miami…”

“Wait!
We’re? Miami?
Who is this ‘we’ and why are
‘we’ going to Miami?” Nothing like a secret to snap Jodi back to reality.
Before I can even reply, she’s guessing. “I know…it’s that guy. From high
school. MC Loser or whatever he calls himself. You’re jetting off to have an
affair with him in Florida!”

“Nice that you think so little of me, but no.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“S’okay.” I smile, because it’s not like I haven’t
fantasized about it. “Kat and I are going to enjoy an impromptu mini–spring
break.”

“Oh. Really.”

From her tone, I realize just how big I’ve screwed this
up. “Jodi…it’s not like that. Don’t get mad. We didn’t exclude you on purpose
or anything…we just decided tonight! We were a little bit drunk! At this crazy
chick’s sex-toy party…”

“Oh, really.”

“Ugh,” I groan. “You don’t
know
her! You weren’t
invited!”

“I guess I’m just a third wheel to you guys, now that I
don’t teach with you two anymore. I
knew
one day you’d just
discard
me. I just didn’t know it would come so soon.”

“Jodi, you haven’t taught with us for eight years.” Ah, the
drama that is Jodi Moncrieff. I backpedal and sidestep and do all sorts of
fancy verbal dancing, but it seems to be of no use.

Finally, I just appeal to her mothering instinct, Jodi’s
kryptonite. “Jodi, how
could
you go to Miami? And leave your three
precious girls like that? You can’t stand to be away from them for even one
day, you know that. Plus, Lee wouldn’t let you. He’s kind of controlling,
right? Likes to know where you are all the time, likes you home, cooking meals
and stuff…”