Chapter 22
Natalie
Candace: Movie night tomorrow?
Nat: I’ll be there… cant wait to see you ;) Do we get to have a sleepover??
Candace: Only if you behave.
Nat: You like me better when I misbehave
Candace: See you at the meeting today :)
“What’s with the frown? I thought you were madly in love and shit,” Megan asks from across the couch.
“The Prez reminded me of the stupid meeting this afternoon. I swear to God these women would meet every fucking day if they could.”
“I’m going home this weekend for some R and R with the parentals. You wanna come with?”
“Can’t, I’m staying the night with Candace and the girls.” I flip between channels, trying to find something funny that’s not a cartoon.
Her face scrunches up as she leans over, stealing the remote. “Can I tell them you have a sugar mama twice your age?”
“No, I can tell them myself. We also haven’t defined anything, so slow your roll.”
“Slow my roll? You’re the one who printed out wedding invites.”
I chuck the nearest pillow at her smug face. “No, I didn’t! That was a joke, God, you’re so annoying. Dad threatened to do a background check on the next person I bring home. Since the last one’s nose ring fell out in the meatloaf after doing a line in the bathroom.”
Megan rolls onto her side, hysterically laughing, recalling our nightmare dinner date from two years ago. “Oh my gosh, I forgot all about that girl. Man, she was gross. Twice, I caught her picking plaque off her teeth, and she kept calling me Maggie. Candace is definitely an improvement.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t wanna scare her off with you guys. Go home, just don’t say anything just yet.” I bring my hands together like I’m praying.
“Ya, ya. Whatever you say,” she mumbles, turning on some international cooking show, giving me a reason to bounce.
The day drags on, but thank God it’s Friday.
Educating the young minds of today is challenging when all they want to do is dish on popular gossip and reality TV.
Truly, I’ve heard enough about the happenings in the Laguna Beach.
These kids have no direction if they aspire to be drunks passed out on a beach at noon.
When it’s finally time for the PTA to gather and discuss paying for new laminators, I practically sprint to the office, stopping at the bathroom first to refresh my hair.
I was in a hurry this morning, like I am every morning, and threw it up into a messy bun.
I swear my hair weighs like five pounds, it’s so thick, and there’s a ton of it, so even when it’s up high, it’s practically a piece of art stealing the show.
The person I’ve been counting the hours to see is fixing her blue-collared shirt in the mirror when I walk in. Her top button is open on her chunky cream sweater, but it still leaves everything to the imagination, and has mine running wild wanting to play with what’s hiding underneath.
“Hi,” I whisper, softly kissing the sides of her neck. “You look pretty.”
“Hi to you too. We’ve got to be careful at school. Remember, we’re being discreet?” Quickly, she turns to the door, double-checking we’re alone.
“I am being discreet. You just taste so fucking good. Don’t make me stop,” I whine, running my hands down her back towards her backside.
“Don’t stop,” she breathes out, bringing her lips to mine, sparking electricity through my body. Our lips part, allowing our tongues to dive into each other.
“Oh no, I’m so sorry,” a soft voice echoes before the bathroom door shuts. I don't immediately recognize the voice, meaning it’s not Betty. Candace pushes me away, fixes the wrinkles in her silk grey skirt, and turns away, calling for Denise, the PTA secretary.
“Denise, it’s um…” Candace stutters, looking at me for backup.
“It’s okay. Don’t mind me, forget I even saw anything,” she says with a smile, moving towards an open stall.
Candace looks like a deer in headlights, as she chews the hell out of her lip, clearly panicking. “Hey, settle down,” I whisper, trying to calm her.
We stay at the bathroom sink, impatiently waiting for her to be done, which couldn’t be more awkward, waiting for someone to finish peeing.
“Whoa,” Denise says, surprised, shutting the stall door behind her. “I was serious, don’t mind me. You’ve seemed really happy lately, Candace, and if this is why, I’m really happy for you.”
“You don’t think it’s weird because we’re two women?” Candace asks hesitantly.
“No, I don’t think it’s weird. You two look really great together, but I don’t recommend making out in the school bathroom, unless you’re trying to get the attention of the other ladies.
” She finishes drying her hands and heads towards the door.
Before exiting, she turns towards us, “I hope you know you have at least one supporter in there. This life is too short to worry about what unhappy people think of you. If you’ve found someone who brings you any kind of happiness in a world that’s so messy, then I encourage you to hold on to them and never let go.
It doesn't and shouldn’t matter whether they’re a man or a woman. ”
The air is thick when the door shuts behind her, leaving us alone once again. Candace refrains from looking at me. “We should probably get inside before someone comes looking for us,” she says into the mirror, fixing her lipstick.
I grab her hand and interlace our fingers. “This changes nothing. I'll be more careful, and we can keep it under wraps. Whatever you need, I can do it.”
When she doesn’t look up at me, I gently grip her chin, bringing her towards me. “Hey, pretty girl, it’s you and me, nobody else.”
She nods, but I don’t miss the small quiver of her lip. “We should probably go in,” she smiles, and squeezes my arm before we both leave the bathroom, hands to ourselves this time.
Betty’s ear-splintering voice is the first I hear when we walk in. We’re not late, she’s just already bitching about something. “Kelly, this is no laughing matter. How will we be taken seriously if the parents of these children don’t even respect our rules?”
“What happened?” Candace asks as we take our seats.
I couldn’t care less what happened, that woman has a new grievance every week. Last week, she was pissed at a dad who didn’t get his car washed before dropping his kid off. I kid you not, filed an actual complaint with the school board about the dirt on Mr. Hanson's white Lexus.
“Judith Anderson, Dorine’s mother, brought store-bought brownies to the bake sale today.” Her lips press together as she throws the plastic container on the table.
The laugh that barrels out of me is so uncontrollable I forget how to breathe. “You’re joking? Maybe she didn’t have time to bake brownies from scratch. Be grateful she didn’t add in anything extra. Although, to be honest, you could use a brownie, or two.”
“What are you insinuating? Do you think parents are putting drugs in the brownies?” Betty hollers, her face is beet red and hair a wild mane as she digs her French manicured nails into her scalp.
“One time in college, Joshua had me try one of those special brownies. I had diarrhea for days, and hallucinated a goat in my bed,” Denise, our sweet secretary mumbles.
“Denise, enough! Am I the only one taking this seriously? Judith bought these at a local Stop and Shop. She didn’t even bother going into Whole Foods. The brownies probably contain plastic and toenail clippings,” she huffs
“Speaking of toenail clippings, does anyone have a metal nail file I could jab into my eyeball right now?” I roll my eyes, waiting for the impending explosion.
Betty roars out like a fire-breathing dragon, "How on God’s green earth have you not been fired yet?"
“Dude, I have no clue. I’m sure you’ve tried your absolute best to get it done, but something ain’t working. Better luck next time.” I blink, and she slaps her hands on the table, standing back up again before Candace jumps in to referee.
“Okay, ladies.” She glares down at me. “Let’s back burner the bake sale discussion. I’ll work it out with Judith, and from here on out, make sure the flyers clearly state that desserts need to be made from scratch.”