2007-03-06
we delivered the cookies
|Yesterday morning, amid making lunch and trying to find my kids' uniforms for school, I received a phone call from the teacher saying school was cancelled because there was no heat in the building. I told the teacher I could bundle them up in extra sweaters, but she wasn't buying it. So we had a free day yesterday.
It then occurred to me that I could take the kids to Daddy's office for lunch. I did that last month with the younger two and the middle kid rubbed it in the older kid's face, seeing as the oldest was at school that day. This has caused much whining and gnashing of teeth on the older kid's part because she missed out on A Fun Day With Daddy. So it was settled, we were going to run through the Taco Bell drive through and bring Daddy lunch.
Then I realized Claire lives just four miles from Daddy's office. This was shaping up to be the perfect opportunity to deliver the Girl Scout cookies. So I put the cookies in the van, bundled the kids up, packed my cell phone just in case she wasn't going to answer the door and headed toward the freeway. We got there right at 10:40, which was in keeping with my plan. I know she starts getting ready for work at 11:30 am so I wanted to catch her on a work day about an hour before she got in the shower.
We got out of the van and I saw her car parked under the carport. We trudged up the steps to her porch, rang the bell twice and waited. Nothing. I gave it a minute or so and then rapped on the storm door -- bang, bang, bang. Nothing. Hmmm, I put my hand in my pocket just to make sure my cell phone was ready and waiting; it was. My middle kid rang the bell one more time and then a couple of seconds later, the door opened to reveal Aunt Claire in her pajamas.
She seemed surprised and a little bit nervous, but she invited us in out of the cold. I set the baby down and took a quick survey of the living room and kitchen. Nothing was amiss. As the cookies were opened I noticed her breakfast on the kitchen counter. Darn, clearly it was a serving for one: one cup of orange juice, one bowl of oatmeal and one plate of toast.
Then I noticed a gaggle of bikes on the far end of the living room, in front of the French doors leading to the patio. There's a full wall of mirrors over there and initially I thought the living room was larger than it was and that there were eight to ten bikes over there. I said, "Wow, you have a lot of bikes." Then I laughed as I realized it was a bit of an optical illusion.
As we made small talk I surveyed the room for any shred of evidence. She must have run about throwing stuff into bedrooms while we were standing on the porch. There was nothing.
Then I looked closer at the bikes.
There was an exercise bike that I sat on while I checked out the three other bikes. We talked about the exercise bike as I gathered visual evidence. Then I went in for the kill.
"Why do you have three bikes?" (excluding the exercise bike).
"One is my ten speed. One is my mountain bike. And one is (the elusive boyfriend) Tyler's bike."
"Really? You have Tyler's bike here at your house?"
"Yeah."
"He keeps his bike at your house?"
"Yeah."
"He doesn't keep it at his own house?"
"No."
Pause and puzzled look from me. "That's weird."
She did seem like she was trying to contain her freak out but I have to admit she did a pretty good job of trying to be cool. I know she was freaking out because I have known her for 39 years. I know her looks; I know her moods. Sisters know these things. It was getting to be time to go so in a last ditch effort I went for the jugular. I asked to use her bathroom.
She immediately started walking down the hallway where all of the doors were shut and said a little too quickly, "This bathroom is a mess. You can use the bathroom in my room." Then she stood guard in front of the bed near the entrance to the bathroom. The two older kids had to use the bathroom, as did I so all four of us went into the room. The baby didn't want to be left out of the fun, apparently.
In the short time we spent in the bathroom I eyed everything closely. No signs of a man. Hmm. My husband and I let our bathroom items commingle, even though we have two bathrooms. His shaving cream and razors live comfortably next to my hair dryer and round brush. This was throwing me for a curve. Nothing was amiss. But Claire remained outside the door, in front of her bed the entire time we were in the bathroom. Clearly she has something to hide. And her anxiety level was rising.
My final assessment is that even though I'm pretty certain she harbors a man, she must not be comfortable enough to let their bathroom items merge. He must have his stuff in the bathroom down the hall, heretofore known as "the bathroom that is a mess."
As we filed out the door we left behind the condo, the cookies and Claire's rush of adrenaline.
2007-03-06 at 7:33 a.m.
