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Season 2, August 21, 2008 - Episode 64

Sandy

Yes, it’s true.  My life has not played out exactly as planned.  And unfortunately, I have my mother to remind me of it.

“Sandy?  Where have you been hiding, young lady.  I’ve been trying to reach you all week.”

“Oh, well it’s been a little crazy at work.”

“Must be crazy everywhere – you haven’t picked up your home phone, your work phone, your cell phone…”

I take a deep breath and count backwards from five on down.  “Mom, calm down.  You make it seem like we can’t go two days without talking.”

I hear her grunt over the phone line, which I admit somewhat amuses me.  “Of course we can go two days without talking.  We could go two weeks, two months, but what good would that do anyone?  Besides, I was calling about something important.”

Uh-oh.  Important to my mother only meant one thing – she’d found me a proper husband.

“I want you to come over for dinner tomorrow night.  Rhona Sharon is coming by for dessert and bringing her son, Jeffrey, whose an emergency room doctor in Costa Mesa.  He’s 31, has good teeth, and if he’s anything like his father, Mr. Sharon, he’ll keep his lush head of hair well into his sixties.”

When I don’t immediately answer, she asks, “You want me to make my pineapple chicken, or beef stew?  I get my carrots from the farmer’s market now, and notice it makes a big, big difference with the stew.  Then again, the pineapple chicken will leave you both with fresher palates – no telling what he might think if you two slip outside for a little fresh air and you hit him with beef stew breath.”

Okay, that’s about all I can handle.  “Mother, I’m not going outside with same strange doctor dude.”

“Now honestly, Sandy.  We both know that you haven’t been so lucky in the love department.”

Perhaps not.  Things are looking up, though.  Mario sleeps over just about every night, and doesn’t seem to be missing his wife.  I’m pretty sure he knows about Cynthia being pregnant, however.  I haven’t said anything to him about it, but I catch him every now and then, deep in thought.  Stressed.  Unsure.  Not the overconfident, cocky man I’ve started to love.  Mother would never get my interest in Mario.  Not just because he was my boss at one point, but she also still believes in folks hooking up according to complexion. 

“Actually, mother, things haven’t been all that bad.  In fact, just last night, I had a date at -- ” 

“You had a date?”  I could just see her luminescent eyes right now, twinkling with hope.  Actually, it might be fun to tell her that I was seeing my ex-boss, a second-generation Mexican-American who was fluent in Spanish.  Then again, she had mentioned something about having heart palpitations the other day.  Wouldn’t want to cause any further trouble.  Not today, at least.

“Yep.  So thank you very much, but no thanks.  I’m perfectly capable of finding my own dates.”

“Well, that’s fine.  So, who is this…man?  Oh my stars, it is a man, isn’t it?”

“Yes, mother!”  I crack half a smile, imagining the sound of my mom’s petite little body hitting the floor if my answer had been otherwise. 

Ever since my father passed away almost five years ago, mom has been needier than ever.  At first, I ran with it, feeling bad that she’d lost her partner of over 30 years.  But without having him to hassle (Dad always had predicted mom was gonna nag him to death), she turned her sights on me, her only child.  For a year and a half, we managed to live together without either one of us getting arrested for domestic violence, but once my cost-of-living increase kicked in at work, I left home faster than a Usain Bolt 100-meter dash.  That didn’t faze mom, who managed to put in overtime with her phone calls.  Luckily, living 25 minutes south of Buena Beach in Orange County, she hadn’t really done the “drop in” thing.

“Where did you two go?”

I lie and say, “Just some little Italian restaurant on the beach.”  Well, technically, that wasn’t a lie – just a line that was a bit misleading.  We did go to an Italian restaurant on the beach, but not Buena Beach.  Instead, we opted for Oceanside, just about an hour and a half south of here.  It’d been his idea, thinking it would be easiest to keep our relationship discrete by taking our outings as far away as possible.  It sure beat watching ESPN highlights as we sat on my duvet eating pizza. 

“Oh, sweetheart.  He sounds absolutely wonderful.  Let me guess – he’s a…lawyer?”

Why quit now.  “Yes.”

“Oh, I knew it.  I knew it.  You have those hips that just will attract a legal mind, you know?”  I don’t interrupt her analysis of my body and the types of men it entices, using the time to search my cabinets for a pop tart.  Just as I think I spot a box of frosted strawberry ones, my doorbell rings.

It can’t be Mario, who had to attend a neighborhood organization meeting this evening on Danny’s behalf.  I didn’t order take-out and I’m not playing my music loud enough for anyone to come over to complain.  I would tell mother to hold on one second while I get the door, but she’s barely taking any time to breath as she continues on about my love life. 

Whoever’s on the other side of my door is covering my peephole with a hand, and my “Who is it?” is answered only with another press of the doorbell.  While most would decide simply to ignore the unidentified caller, or notify security, I tempt fate by unlocking the door and opening it.  No one cares enough about me to want to do any harm, I’m sure.

“Kasey!” I squeal when I finally see who’s been ringing my bell.

“Is that his name?  Oh, sounds very professional.  Is he a partner, dear?  What firm – I want to look it up online.”

I’m too shaken to respond to my mom, who probably will go on with the questions for another few minutes or so whether I answer or not.  So that gives me some time to deal with the reality in front of me.  It’s Kasey, the last person I dated before Mario.  The person I might still be dating had he not been sent to prison two years ago.

“What’s happening, baby?” he asks, his two gold teeth gleaming loudly as he smiles.  His hair is much longer than it was the last time I saw him, but still plaited in neat cornrows against his skull.  And he’s definitely bulked up.   Against my better judgment, I let him kiss me.  He looks a little different, but tastes exactly the same – like straight-up chronic. 

“Why didn’t you come see me?” he asks, putting his arms around me and palming my ass.  I guess lawyers aren’t the only ones loving my curves – apparently, hip-hop artists love them too.

That’s right.  Kasey was better known around these parts as Buena Beach’s own Pooh Nasty, whose career did the unthinkable and cooled off with the publicity of his arrest.  “I don’t know.  I figured that…well, that you had a lot of other women coming to see you.”

He smiles at me, still holding me tightly.  “Maybe,” he says with a wink.  “But you’re the only one I wanted to see.”

An instantly, the butterflies that used to erupt every time he said my name return.  I’m even getting a little dizzy.  Then I hear mom.  “Sandy, sweetheart.  Who are you talking to?”

When I don’t respond, still being hypnotized by Kasey’s stare, she jumps to her own conclusion.  “Oh my, is he there?  Kasey’s there?  Oh, dear God.  Let me let you off this phone, sweetheart.  Is your hair combed?  And I hope you’re wearing lipstick.  Please make sure you serve him a starch, a vegetable, and dessert with whatever you’re making him for dinner tonight.  And I’ll go ahead and cancel the dinner tomorrow night with Rhona and her son, okay?”

I’m able to sputter out an ‘okay’ in return.

“And Sandy, I expect to receive an invitation soon to come over and meet this Kasey, do you hear me?”

Oh yes, I hear her.  But if learning I was seeing Mario could potentially exacerbate her heart palpitations, I’d better have a defibrillator ready if I ever introduced her to Kasey, because that meeting would certainly send her into a full-on cardiac arrest.