Dear Neighbor, Drop Dead (23 page)

“That’s the crazy thing. I think if he found out that Stacie was experimenting, he’d kick her ass.”

“I can see that. And I would have to agree with you about him seeming responsible. On the cruise he was so protective of the kids . . . and I know they like him. When I told Jamie and Ricky he was back, they f lew downstairs to say hi. They were so happy.”

“You just made my day,” Artie smiled. “Anyway, the other reason I wanted him here was, last night at the motel we were up all night talking about my business problems.”

“Oh? He’s a consultant?”

“No, but he has zero interest in sports and it beats talking about his future. Turns out when I told him how bad the store was doing because of the brands we have to carry, next thing I know we’re online looking at the Eye-Deals Web site and he’s making these awful faces like who the hell would wear that stuff Dear Neighbor, Drop Dead

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and I’m like, that’s the problem. So he says to me, well can you sell other things, and I go no, there are strict licensing agree-ments, so then he says, what if I created a Web site for you and you could sell whatever cool glasses you wanted?”

“That would be incredible . . . can you do that?”

“Why not? We’d be doing business under a different name. In fact, he even came up with one already . . . he said we should call it Outasight! Is that great or what?”

“Oh my God, I love it!” Mindy clapped. “It’s so clever.”

“Yeah. This kid is so smart, Mindy.” Artie’s eyes welled. “You had to hear him going on and on about the ways things are sold on the Internet today and how you use key words and this thing called search engine optimization to build traffic to your site, and I’m sitting there pretending I know what the hell he’s talking about. That’s when I said to him we’re going to do this business together. Father and son. And he was like, yeah, great.”

“You really think it could make money?”

“Are you kidding? The way things are going at the store we’d make more from a Web site. There’s no overhead, no payroll—”

“If you build it, they will come?”

“Yep.”

“Mommm!!!” Stacie yelled from the basement. “The bee-ach just IM’d me and wants to know when you’re going online. She’s gotta talk to you.”

“Why does she keep calling Beth that?” Artie sighed.

“Okay! Tell her in a few minutes,” Mindy hollered back. “Because she’s still pissed at her for that night she came over here and screamed at her. Frankly, I’m not sure I’ve forgiven her either.”

Mindy went to check on the kids, who were camped out with Aaron in the guest room. Never intended for large gatherings, let alone a teenager who’d hooked up his father’s guitars and 200

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amps, the room was so small they had to crowd on the f loor to listen to him play.

But rather than be in the moment, all she could do was survey the dismal decor. The cheap, we’ll-get-rid-of-it-in-a-year bedroom set, a relic from their newlywed days; the shag carpet, a temporary fix after a f lood; and bookshelves lined with Beanie Babies that a naive Mindy had been so sure would be worth thousands, as she had six of the original nine, including the coveted Brownie the Bear and Flash the Dolphin. “When they retire, we retire,” she would tell Artie, eventually concluding that the only one getting rich off them was their creator.

“Don’t worry,” Artie came from behind and whispered, “we’ll figure something out to make the room look nice.”

“Doubt it. Not even
Extreme Makeover
could help.”

“C’mon. Don’t have a bad attitude.”

“You’re right. I’ll think positive like in that book
The Secret
. I’ll close my eyes and visualize a master bedroom suite and a check for fifty grand for those extra added touches.”

“Is it too late to recall your old attitude?”

“Oh, come on. Visualization worked great on
Oprah.
”

“Everything works great on
Oprah.
”

Well, not everything.

When Mindy finally got to read Beth’s e-mail, she learned that the advice she’d dispensed after watching Oprah’s show on lying-cheating spouses was apparently not the right prescription for everyone. In fact, at the Diamond house, the message was swallowed like a bitter pill, resulting in side effects that did not vary.

Mindy felt terrible. The pretty doctor with the pretty new book had been so convincing when she said that her combination tough love–tough luck strategy was a proven way to “keep wild horses in the stable.” The key was forcing the untrustworthy Dear Neighbor, Drop Dead

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spouse to sign over their rights to the house and other marital assets if they ever disappointed again.

But when Beth threatened Richard via e-mail with this as-seen-on-TV plan, it didn’t work as advertised. He name-dropped his father’s divorce attorney, who was famous for keeping wealthy husbands happy.

The instant Mindy went online, Beth IM’d her.

diamondgirl (9:07 p.m.): got any other brilliant ideas???

mindymom3 (9:08 p.m.): sorry . . . it sounded like a sure thing . . . money talks

diamondgirl (9:08 p.m.) : well money may talk but we’re not . . . maybe you should stop playing therapist without a license

mindymom3 (9:09 p.m.): im sorry . . . does it seem totally hopeless??

diamondgirl (9:10 p.m.): pretty much . . . he said he rented an apartment near Nike’s headquarters and he’s happier than he’s ever been . . . what would Oprah say about that???

mindymom3 (9:10 p.m.) call dr. phil?

You try to be nice, Mindy thought when she signed off. All she did was make some well-meaning suggestions, just like she did with Rhoda, although that was a bust, too. So maybe Beth was right. She should get out of the advice business and stick to what she knew. How to remove blood stains from clothes (contact lens solution), take the itch out of bug bites (tooth-paste or Preparation H), and treat kitchen burns (soak in egg whites).

* * *

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Mindy didn’t know where she was finding her nerve, but when Stan called the house early the next morning to say that he and Rhoda had decided to spend a few days at their country home in the Berkshires, she told him that she would be taking the week off, too.

“What has one thing got to do with other?” He coughed in her ear.

“Oh, come on. Be reasonable. If you’re not seeing patients, why do you need a receptionist to open and close that little sliding window all day?”

To her surprise he didn’t argue. Either he was learning he couldn’t win or he secretly agreed that with Aaron’s arrival, it was more important that she be home.

“But I’m real glad to hear you and Mom are talking again,”

Mindy said.

“Yeah, about what a busybody you are. Tell Arthur to give me a call tonight. I have to speak to him about an important matter.”

“Okay. Wanna give me a heads-up?”

“If I wanted to give you a heads-up, wouldn’t I say, oh good, it’s Mindy, I have something to discuss with you.”

“Do you really not like me that much?”

“Who said anything about not liking you?”

“So you speak this way to your friends?”

“Who said I had friends?”

Before their first baby is born, prospective parents can choose from an array of books, DVDs, and classes to help prepare for the blessed event and the challenging years to follow.

Before their first baby is born, eager parents are showered with gifts. Lots and lots of gifts, so that their precious newborn can ease through every stage in comfort.

Before their first baby is born, anxious parents can look to Dear Neighbor, Drop Dead

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experienced family and friends for guidance and support so that they never feel alone in their quest to make the best decisions.

But when your first born is seventeen and literally falls into your life by a stork named Shitty Circumstances, there are no educational materials to show you the ropes, no baby showers to help offset the endless expenses, and certainly not many people to whom you can turn for advice, because really, how many parents could say they’d had a similar experience?

As Mindy lingered at the kitchen table, she worried how they would adjust. It was one thing when Aaron was a visitor, quite another to now have to think about the high cost of supporting him. He might well be the only teen on Long Island who didn’t own the bare essentials: a cell phone, mp3, or laptop, let alone the quintessential must-have for the just-passed-my-road-test crowd, his own car.

Mindy was familiar with the lore of the student parking lot at their high school, a stokin’, smokin’ assemblage of Hum-mers, Beamers, and Benzs, while the teachers’ lot was home to the usual assortment of age-ripened Camrys and spiritless minivans.

So it would take Aaron what? The first two periods of school to realize that his value had fully depreciated without these peer-worshiped possessions? It meant she had no choice. Right after registering him at the district office, they would head to the mall and run up the secret credit card she’d kept for emergencies. She just couldn’t bear the thought of him walking the halls feeling like the Pauper from Portland.

And what were the rules of the house? Mindy considered herself fairly open-minded, but that’s only because her children were still at the stages where they did nothing that wasn’t doctor recommended or parent approved. The only cardinal sins were lying and text messaging at dinner. But Aaron was different—

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more like a feral Mustang who was free to roam and difficult to domesticate. How could she restrict him now when all he knew was fight or flight?

By the time he awoke, Mindy had written a contract stating his duties at home and standards for acceptable behavior. He looked at it and laughed.

“This is a joke to you?”

“Best one of the day.” He pounded the table.

“It’s only nine thirty.”

“Sorry.” He tried wiping the smirk off. “Hold on . . . I gotta show you something.”

Aaron returned with a motel notepad and waited for Mindy’s reaction when she realized that Artie had written something almost identical and made Aaron initial each rule, starting with

“Thou shalt not take money from desk drawers” to “you break curfew you break my heart.”

“Oh my God!” Mindy laughed. “We are such nerds.”

“Totally.”

A knock at the back door startled them, and in walked Beth, loaded down with shopping bags. “Hi, I’m Beth.” She shook Aaron’s hand. “Remember me? The bitch next door?”

“Hey,” he said, unsure whether to stare at the bags or Beth.

Both were alluring in different ways and his interest in either made him blush.

“So we’re talking again?” Mindy quipped.

“What choice do I have? I have no friends and you always have the good cookies from Trader Joes. Aaron, I thought you might like some of these things. My husband’s ad agency works for Nike and they keep sending him all this stuff. Any chance you’re a size eleven sneaker?”

“Maybe,” he eyed the bags as if they held gold. “Not sure.”

“Oh my God.” Mindy peeked at the loads of merchandise. “It’s his baby shower.”

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Aaron glared. Was she making a joke about Rainbow?

“Relax,” she said. “I was just thinking how you were going to need so many things, and it would be great if my friends threw you a little welcome party. This is even better!”

“Knock yourself out.” Beth handed him the bags. “Take it all for all I care.”

“Thanks.” He looked as if he might cry as he pulled out sneakers, T-shirts, and jackets.

“Best part is, it’s a little taste of home.” Beth smiled. “Although you probably had a ton of Nike stuff already.”

“Not really.” He unlaced a pair of sneakers that cost more than his entire wardrobe.

“This was so sweet of you.” Mindy hugged her. “I can’t thank you enough.”

“No big deal . . . It was just stuff that was sitting around the basement.”

But Mindy didn’t buy the nonchalant response. From the way Beth was beaming, she knew she’d made Aaron’s day.

“How do I look?” He wore a different sneaker on each foot, shorts over sweats, and a baseball cap with Tiger Woods’s name on it.

“Like an athlete who just got a big endorsement deal,” Mindy teased.

“Oy,” he tried to check out his reflection in the window. “I was goin’ for the pretty boy from Long Island look.”

“Sorry.” Beth shrugged. “For that you need to wear Polo and drive an X5.”

“What’s that?” he posed like a model.

“Oh, man,” Beth looked at Mindy. “He’s going to get one hell of an education here.”

Maybe there was something to be said for the power of positive thinking, for just as they were admiring Cinderfella’s new ward-206

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robe, Artie called from the store. “Get down here right away,” he said. “And bring Aaron.”

“Why?” Mindy asked. “Is everything okay?”

“I’ll tell you when you get here.”

“Well, can you give me a hint? Is it good news?”

“Don’t know yet.”

“I hate when you do this. What’s going on?”

“All I’ll say is that I just got a fax and you have to read it to believe it.”

Eighteen

Unlike need-for-speed Beth, Mindy was a cautious, courteous driver who never took out her aggression on other motorists, unless, of course, they started it first. Most often it was men in trucks cutting her off who caused her to curse, but not before telling the kids to cover their ears.

They never did, however, because what was funnier than listening to your mother power down her window and shout,

“YoustupidmotherfuckersonofabitchpieceofshitIhopeyoudie”?

But en route to the store in nearby Seaford, it was Mindy who could have been pulled over.

Nadine would have laughed had she heard that good-citizen Mindy had just blown past Lakeside Elementary, since Mindy was the one who had worked so hard to get the county to put up one of those electronic “your speed is” signs along Babylon Turn-pike. This, in spite of the fact she secretly feared a malfunction.

What if one day it inadvertently posted her weight instead?