Don’t forget it’s black tie tonight.
Nope, I should have known better. I almost let out a scream in the middle of the street when I think about the boredom and small talk that awaits me tonight.
Bex
“Mom! Is that you? What are you doing home? I thought you weren’t gonna be back until three?” Maddie yells from her bedroom.
“Yeah, it’s me. I decided not to go to Zumba after all. You ready to go?” My dating life is such a disaster that I can’t bring myself to tell Maddie anything about it. So my date with Sean was a Zumba class to Maddie. I look at it as protecting her from becoming jaded about love before she even has her first kiss. At least I don’t think she’s had her first kiss yet. In any case, thirteen is way too young to know about the black hole of dating apps.
“We don’t have to be at the drop off until four. Mom, chill,” I hear her whine.
“No harm in getting there early. You never know about traffic. If we have time to spare, we can just stop along the way for a milkshake.” Here’s hoping the lure of a treat will bend her to my will like it did when she was little.
She huffs from the bedroom, followed by a series of bangs and groans as she descends the stairs, her luggage dinging the walls which are in need of a fresh coat of paint.
“Jeez, Mom. What’s the rush? You got a date later on or something?” She scoffs.
I hesitate a moment too long, which pings Maddie’s radar. Oops.
“Oh God. You do have a date, don’t you?”
“No, of course not,” I say quickly. “Now, let’s get going. You got everything?”
Maddie gives me a suspicious look, then begrudgingly turns and heads out the front door, hauling her bags to the car in the driveway.
It’s tragic that my own daughter thinks it’s an impossibility that I would have an actual date. But, sadly, she’s not off base. It’s been years since I’ve had a real date. At least, not with anyone that I’d ever bring home. I’m glad to have bailed on Sean, even if it was rude to do so at the last second, because I know what would’ve happened anyway. After all the weeks of texting, we’d realize there is absolutely no chemistry between us in person, and after a stilted conversation about which shows we’re currently bingeing, we’d give each other an awkward but friendly hug and go our separate ways. The digital buildup leading to a lackluster IRL encounter. This has happened to me so many times before, I don’t know why I’d even agreed to meet him.
Heading out the door, I pause in the entryway and turn to take a look at myself in the mirror and see nothing. No matter how long it’s been since the divorce, I still look at that spot on the wall, forgetting that the mirror is gone. It was Patrick’s family heirloom and I fell in love with it the first time I went to his house to meet his parents. His mother gave it to us as a wedding present and I’ve never found another mirror that I like well enough to replace it, at least not one that I can afford.
“Mom! Waiting on you!” Maddie calls out as she slams the trunk shut.
I have to laugh a little. She sounds just like me when I was her age. My best friend, Liv, and I would be waiting in the car while Mom finished her tenth Salem Light 100 for the day. “Only an addict rushes through their cigarette,” she used to say. I don’t know what she thought she was, but smoking a pack a day, no matter how elegantly and leisurely done, sure seemed like an addict to me.
I do a fast walk-run out to the car and hop in.
“All right, let’s do this. Here we go! Camp’s gonna be great, I just know it.” I squeeze Maddie’s knee.
“When are you gonna get the AC fixed? It’s like a sauna in here.” Maddie fiddles with the air-conditioning vents.
“Summer is more than half over, hun. We don’t need it.” I roll down the windows as we back out of the driveway then turn on the vents, a futile effort to get more air circulating, even if it is the smoggy, summer heat of LA. My dad offered to pay for the AC to be fixed but I’d said no out of pride. I’m too old to still be a daddy’s girl but I’m seriously having second thoughts.
Neither Maddie nor I are being talkative. I tell myself it’s the heat as she taps away on her phone. She probably won’t even want to go to camp next summer. Most of her school friends are staying home and we had more than a few arguments about her not wanting to go this year.
We pull up to the meeting point and find a shady place to park. The usual circle of Botox’d and boob jobbed alpha moms has already congregated to say goodbye to their daughters. Maddie’s been going to the same camp since she was eight years old and I see these moms year after year. They seem to be getting younger, or at least more frozen, while I’m looking more and more haggard. I can’t keep up with their diamond rings, laser peels, and balayage. And frankly, even if I had the money or time, I wouldn’t want to.
“Bex, long time no see! After the bus leaves, we’re all going for cocktails. Want to join us?” Samantha says in a way that I know is just her being fake nice.
“My mom has a date!” Maddie blurts to my mortification.
“I don’t have a date,” I protest, but I’m quickly drowned out.
“Oh, really? Do tell!” Samantha says, more loudly than she needs to.
I wave Samantha off like it’s nothing. Because it is. Unless a date with Ben & Jerry’s counts.
“You’re going like that?” Samantha looks me up and down. “I just went shopping and got the cutest bracelets. They’re in my car, you can borrow them. Just to add a pop of color, you know?” She scrutinizes my jeans and black one pocket tee. “Do you want me to go get ’em?”
“Oh, no, really, but thanks. I don’t have a date tonight, or any night. I’m solidly single.” The note of depression in my tone is undeniable. I try to recover with a little too much enthusiasm. “I’m focusing on my career!”
With a look of dramatic sympathy, Samantha says, “Oh, Bex, you should really be getting out there!” She pulls her phone out of her purse and begins scrolling quickly. “I have just the man for you. He’s Hal’s new financial adviser, recently divorced, a little pudgy but great hair, and he…”
And so it begins. I zone out as she rambles on, detailing Hal’s stats and specs.
This is perhaps the worst thing about being single—married people who always try to set me up with some recently divorced guy. As if just by virtue of being divorced, we’ll automatically be the right fit for each other. My married friends are always so insistent that I have to meet “so and so” and then when I do finally meet him, it’s apparent we have nothing in common other than our mutual friends.
“That’s nice of you, Samantha, thank you so much, but honestly, I’m just doing me right now. Maybe down the road, okay?”
“Okay, sweetie. If you say so.” She smiles at me with a look of pity and gives me a little pat on the shoulder. Then she saunters over toward the bus to help her daughter load her suitcase.
Maddie seems to have woken up from her sulky mood of the car ride and bounds over to a few friends who are waving to her from the bus. I grab her bags that she’s left beside me and do a waddling walk over to the bus, weighed down by whatever it is she’s packed.