Informed Consent Page 7

  Despite her flakiness his mother had liked him. Maybe she hadn’t liked William and Lucas anymore, but she had still liked him. He was still little. His sister Denise said “Mom likes babies and toddlers. Don’t have your own life if you want to stay on her good side.”

  William and Lucas did have their own lives. William played lacrosse and sold pot. He was an important guy in their school and the neighborhood. Lucas was always on his skate board doing death defying leaps into the air with his pals. Or killing zombies. Or playing guitar. Or collecting stray dogs. He definitely had a life.

  Zander had decided not to cultivate a life because he wanted his mother to keep liking him. According to Denise, who seemed like the most reasonable person in the family, Mom was a Narcissus and that meant the world needed to revolve around her; in other words, the other person couldn’t have a life.

  “It means she’s the sun.” His sister had said. “And you have to be her little moon.”

  So Zander had been a moon and his mother had remained very fond of him. She hugged him and liked to run her fingers through his hair. She liked him to look at her pictures, or weaving, or felting or whatever she was working on, and tell her it was the best thing ever.

  “Zander!”

  The entire class had turned and was looking at him. Dubonnet Hawthorne was sticking his tongue out too and crossing his eyes while safely waving The Finger at chest level where the teacher wouldn’t be able to see it.

  “Were you day dreaming again, Zander?”

  Zander shook his head.

  “Then you don’t need me to repeat the question.”

  Zander had liked Ms. Franten the first few minutes of school at the beginning of the year. He didn’t like her anymore. Here was a perfect example of why. Why ask a question if you knew the answer. That was entrapment.

  But his mother had not raised a stupid moon. He was in spelling. Lucas always said to go ahead and take a whack at anything.

  “A-N-Y-T-H-I-N-G”

  Dubonnet was laughing his ass off now.

  Mrs. Franten inhaled a great deal of air.

  “That’s lovely, Zander. Unfortunately we spelled that word some time ago.”

  “I didn’t,” Zander muttered.

  All of the air Mrs. Frankenstein had sucked in came whooshing out. She shook her head and walked down the row towards him shaking her Barbie head.

  “Zander we all know you miss your mother -”

  She had more to say but Zander didn’t wait to hear what it might be. He felt tears pop up in his eyes and that was the kiss of death even in the second grade. So he said something rude - like eat my shorts, and bolted for the door.

  Being in the hall solved one problem but caused others. He ducked into the bathroom and poised near a toilet, ready to hop up if needed.

  “Alexander Thomas Marrow.”

  The door opened. Zander moved ninja-like to stand on the toilet seat.

  “Are you in this bathroom, young man?”

  Zander saw a swoop of bright yellow hair cascade to the floor. Mrs. Frankfurter was checking for feet.

  Smarter than her Barbie looks let on, his teacher was now shoving doors open. Zander didn’t wait. In one amazing move he swung the stall door open and leaped through to the floor. He shoved Ms. Fancy Pants into the stall she was currently investigating and took off running.She screamed.

  Zander ran faster.

  His goose was cooked. No point in staying around.

  ***

  Desperate in Duluth wrote: My husband says he’s going to sort me out tonight after the kids are in bed. I’m still sore from the last sorting. What should I do?”

  Denise was in a bad mood. “Shoot him in the guts you big baby.”

  By His Grace advised, “Your husband is the Head of Household. God made him better able to lead and you to follow. You should trust his actions are in your best interest.

  Denise arched a brow. “Whacko slut.”

  Her Man wrote, “I don’t understand the problem, Desperate. You’re pretty new here, so we know very little about you, your HOH, and your circumstances. Tell us more or we can’t legitimately offer advice.”

  Following Him: “What Her Man said. Do you think the last ‘sorting’ was too severe?Were you injured, or are you ‘tender’? What happened to make him say he’d ‘sort you out’ tonight? We probably can’t offer much that is helpful, Desperate, because unless you can write a short novel, and someone here can read it now there’s too much we don’t know. But we’ve all been there, where you are I mean. Most of us don’t look forward to punishment, but we do look forward to the relief it usually brings J Keep coming back, Desperate! We’ll get to know you and be able to help more!”

  Trouble: “oooohhhh! Sounds good to me! What’s your complaint?”

  Despicably Disobedient Denise thought: “Pack of fruitcakes.” Don’t label other people’s beliefs psycho.

  By His Grace is a religious case. Ok. Her choice. Won’t work for me. Following Him and Her Man sound like they at least live on this planet. Trouble was obviously a bdsm-er.

  ***

  Cabbing it to the grocery store, Denise felt virtuous. But the feeling disappeared rapidly. She’d left everything too late. She looked at the list in her hand and the vast acres of grocery store around her. Somehow, her perspective had shifted since she’d whipped in here last, looking for organic raspberries. The music playing softly in the background led her to suspect a host of people in downward dog were to be discovered in aisle 6. Fresh faced employees in Birkenstocks moved around bins adding fresh produce and tidying stacks. One of every two wore their hair in dreds. Knotted bracelets, tie dyed Ts, and piercings abounded. Customers carried babies in slings.

  She’d been here before. Maybe not often but she’d been here. Before she hadn’t noticed what she felt today - a slight air of pretentiousness. Maybe not. Maybe it was her. But one thing was for sure, this was not the store where one shopped for Sloppy Joes.

  Denise yanked her phone from her pants. It was 4:00. She had to get home. At least Zander would be there. Had she thought about who did what after school and on what days? She moaned and fled towards the “prepared foods” aisle.

  She’d found food here before. She’d liberally sampled the gourmet pizza. She’d made luscious salads and bowls of fruit. But her brothers had been raised on an utterly unpredictable combination of leftover haute cuisine prepared for her parents by their personal chef, take out KFC, and since her mother had no idea of the amount of food growing boys needed to eat, stolen tins of pate, sardines and wheels of gouda cheese.

  Well. Had she actually given the impression she would cook? She grabbed the most normal of the pizzas, bypassing sprouted grain crust and vegan cheese and latching onto something she could at least pass off as pepperoni. A large salad constructed from familiar greens and some semi normal looking vegetables. A gallon of 2% milk-organic, from Happy Grass Fed Cows, and she was moving for the register.

  No she did not have her Green Foods Shopper Card. No she didn’t want one. No she had not brought her own bags. Sure. Fine. She’d buy two reusable bags woven from natural fibers by blind children using their toes while living in impoverished countries.

  At home the herd of dogs surrounded the cab and escorted her up the drive. She’d hoped a few of them would bolt for freedom while the immense gate creaked and groaned its way open and closed. Several did leave but only to encourage her from behind as she left the road. They scooted back in well before the gate finished closing. They would lick her to death when she left the cab. She’d be lucky to have any pizza left.

  She paid the driver, leaning over the back seat, handing him an extra ten, and a slice of pizza.

  “It’s yours if you hold this out the window as you drive away.”

  The driver shook his head. He took the ten and the pizza. All but one mammoth dog took off down the drive.

  There was no way she’d get in without him. Once inside, the dog headed for the interior. Denise opened
the pizza box. The beast stopped short. By degrees, and small portions, she coaxed the huge beast out the door before throwing the entire piece to the bottom of the steps.

  From distant regions of the house Denise heard screams. They sounded like happy screams though so she ignored them and began to shift the salad from its 85 % recycled post-consumer content container into a large salad bowl. Since she was able to locate a platter that would hold the pizza she tossed the boxes under the butler’s sink in the pantry.

  Returning to the kitchen an object landed hard between her eyes and someone, two someones, snorted.

  Denise yanked a Nerf arrow from her forehead and put her hands on her hips. It took spit to get a Nerf arrow to stick like that to human skin. “Come out with your hands up!”

  Zander crawled from behind the island on hands and knees, his bow clamped between his teeth. “We’re the ones who’re armed,” he complained around the plastic weapon he held in his mouth. He clambered up to his feet.

  Her best friend Robert appeared on the floor and then he too stood up. “Gimme some love, Babe!” His arms opened wide and he bent his knees so she’d be able to throw herself into his arms. She preferred that to having him hulk over her while he hugged her face into his chest.

  She threw herself and he grabbed her, hoisting, boosting her to his waist where her legs wrapped around him. “My sweetie!” Denise squealed, and gave him a big wet smack on the lips.

  Because they were the very best pals, because they had known each other since the second grade, because a long time ago they’d actually had hilarious, how-the-heck-do-you-do-this-best-friend-experimenting sex, they shoved their tongues into each other’s mouths and made exaggerated moans and groans, each one of them using their hands to roam the other’s body in an overly dramatic fashion.

  Zander had seen it all before; “ick.” He fired an arrow into Denise’s backside.

  The large dog suddenly joined the circus, barking, thumping his huge tail into cabinets and making dull whomping sounds. Denise was too busy running her hands up Robert’s chest and crooning to think about how Goliath had gotten back in.

  Then she saw her husband, standing in the door way, a cool, somewhat bored look on his face that couldn’t possibly be anything except a mask. Andrew had never cared for Robert.

  Shit.

  Denise slapped Robert’s chest for real, and wriggled to get free.

  Robert laughed and pulled her groin against his, making oooh baby sounds. When he finally registered the look on her face he dropped her.

  Zander let another arrow fly, once again choosing a spot between the eyes for a target.

  Andrew put his hand up and removed the arrow.

  “Not in the face, Kid. Scram.” But he ruffled the boy’s hair and tossed him the arrow. He stood there, hands on hips, waiting for the boy to leave.

  Zander, sensing the sudden drop in temperature, left at once.

  Robert had social skills.

  “Andrew Cross! My Man! Congratulations! I knew you’d win her back!”

  Andrew allowed Robert to seize his hand and pump it up and down. His gaze remained shuttered.

  “I was rooting for you, dude! Way to go!”

  “So you were kissing and fondling Denise as a way to congratulate her on her wedding?”

  “Don’t be a dick, Andrew.” Denise moved away from Robert and past the island toward safety.

  His hand shot out and grabbed her by the arm, bringing her to a sudden halt and wrenching her around.

  There was a now familiar if still jolting flip from her lower abdomen. A warning knell sounded in her head, banging up against her skull. She felt herself flush.

  “Chill. Chill.” Robert tried to insert himself between them.

  The very large dog pressed its body against Denise. Then the large dog growled.

  “Don’t be an ass.” Andrew’s voice was flat. He lifted an eye brow at the beast. “Are you growling at me?”

  The dog’s tail whomped again. Andrew kissed his wife hard on the lips. “A man wants a kiss when he comes home, Babe.” He dropped her arm.

  “Are you joining us for dinner, Cardman?” He disappeared into the dining room. Denise heard him keep going, and then the sound of his feet on the stairs. She grabbed the dog’s ruff and tried to steer him to the garage.

  “O.K. That was intense.” Robert grabbed another hunk of pizza and waved it under the animal’s nose. Moving fast, he opened the door to the garage and tossed the slice down the stairs. The dog stood on the threshold, looked at the pizza lying at the foot of the stairs and then back at Denise.

  “Oh for shit’s sake.” She reached for another slice and sent it to join the other one. Two was too much for the dog’s new sense of responsibility and it bolted. Robert slammed the door. Denise looked at the depleted tray of pizza and wondered if there’d be enough for five males in various stages of development. Fortunately, she felt too sick to eat.

  Don’t be a dick. Yep, that’s exactly what she had said to her Head of Household Husband.

  ***

  Robert chose not to join them for dinner and swept out the door after eliciting a promise from Denise to meet for coffee the next day and spill her guts. The house phone rang a few times and she ignored it. It was attached to an answering machine everyone routinely ignored. People used cell phones these days. She looked for napkins, plates, cups and silverware feeling much as she imagined Betty Crocker had felt doing her thing, nevertheless aware that her annoyed husband would still have to be dealt with. Maybe he’d forget?

  Right.

  The next time the back door opened William and Lucas lounged through the door followed by a nice looking young guy who introduced himself as Tom.

  Tom’s hair was the color of corn silk and his eyes were green. He blushed. “Mrs. Marrow, Ma’am?”

  Denise blushed too. Who knows why? Because her life was turned upside down? Because her husband chose that moment to return to the kitchen? Obviously not expecting anyone, recently showered, shirt open and pants not yet buttoned all the way.

  Denise opened her mouth. Not a sound came out. Andrew’s face demonstrated no hint of embarrassment. He buttoned his pants as he moved into the room. “William! Lucas! How was life on the slave ship today? Tom, this is Ms. Marrow.” He pointed to Denise and thrust out his hand. “I’m Andrew Cross.” Very jovial.

  Tom accepted his hand. William and Lucas were grazing their way through the room headed for the rest of the house, shedding backpacks and clothes.

  “Or,” Andrew said, “Mrs. Cross. What can we do for you, Tom?” He draped an arm possessively around her shoulders.

  This day will absolutely not end. One fucked up scene after another. Her brain hadn’t unscrambled since she started reading the kinko blogs. How was that for a lesson about idle hands.

  “So, I’ll be driving the boys.” Tom’s head moved slowly up and down while he spoke. “Is it ok for me to check in with them about times? Or should I discuss this with you? Maybe in the afternoon? Do you want one trip, or are a couple all right?”

  Andrew leaned down and kissed her cheek. “Nice, work, Dinx. I think it’s best to check in with Ms. Cross-Marrow daily, Phil. She’ll be sure to know the guys plans and let you know how many trips are needed. I take it you’re pretty flexible?”

  Denise stiffened. He’d renamed her. The bastard. He’d highlighted clearly her need to know what her little brothers were doing. Which made perfect sense, except it was her business and she should have thought of it. Ok, she hadn’t thought of it but she hated him telling her what to do.

  “Check with the guys. I don’t know their schedule.” Denise snapped. There came a time when one’s self-respect demanded throwing caution to the wind. She tried to whirl out from under her arm. It didn’t work.

  “Dinx, Baby. Please don’t interrupt me again.” Andrew nuzzled her neck as though it was all a big joke.

  “Cut it.” That’s what he hissed in her ear while he pretended to nuzzle it. His voice
was that low, cold growl that made a picture of his belt pop up in her mind.

  “Sure you’ll know what the dudes are up to, sweetie. We’re gonna get this parent thing down. So you’re up for more than one run, Tom?”

  Tom backed towards the door. “Uh, sure! I’m supposed to be free to drive between two and seven pm five days a week. I get my schedule from Dispatch, and if I’m not free they’ll plug someone else in. But you know,” he gave a shrug. One hand snuck behind to fumble for the door.

  “They try to keep us with the same kids as much as possible. So everybody feels comfortable.” The man had the door now and he looked from Denise to her husband and back to Denise. “So. O.K. I’ll check in after drop offs to get the next day’s schedule. Bye!”

  Andrew kept an iron grip on her shoulder even after the young man left. “Here’s the plan, Babe.”

  He turned her and headed them towards the kitchen island where the decimated pizza and the salad sat. “You get dinner on the table. I’ll round up the heathens. At dinner, after we talk about how everybody’s day went we’ll talk about how everybody’s day will go tomorrow. That way you’ll know the plans to give Tom. Better late than never.” He let her go but she didn’t feel any better because he swatted her rear hard.

  “By the way, if Zander hasn’t mentioned a slight problem he had at school today we’ll have to bring it up.”

  “What problem? And how would you know?”

  She was ready to be furious because the school had no business calling him. She was the emergency notification person. He was nobody as far as the school knew. She hadn’t added him, for Pete’s sake.

  She focused her annoyance on him instead of Zander because it was easier to be mad than worried. “They have no business calling you.”

  Andrew shook his head and gave her an odd look. “Way to focus on the important things Denise. The vice principal? The guy who called you?”

  Wary, she nodded.

  “He was my roommate in college for three years. The man knows we married.”