watching it. I’ll be attending an all-day campaign event in Florida.”
“At least it’ll be warm.” I try to use her minimizing-everything tactic back on her.
We chat for about ten minutes, which is epically long for us. It’s so good to talk about normal things with her. She informs me that she has a new guy in her life. He’s actually the Deputy Chief of Staff. Her description: “He’s hot, knows how to use his hips and tongue, and doesn’t want to marry me. He’s perfect.”
Rachael asks the most common question these days besides, “How’s Colin?” which is, “Any names yet?”
My laugh is over-dramatic, and very fake. I roll my eyes for affect, even though she can’t see me. “Not even close. He throws out the worst names for this child. Like he has good taste in every facet of his life, except for baby names. Seriously, if you ever decide to marry, Rach, before you say yes, ask what some of the names are that your future husband likes. I wish I’d known that Colin had such poor taste before I married him.”
Rachael laughs. “Remember? No desire to get married, and especially not to have children. I’m looking forward to being an Auntie. I’ll swoop in, smother Baby McKinney with love, gifts, and sugar, and retreat back to my quiet townhome.”
“Bitch.”
“Oh, honey, that’s what us aunties do,” she says in her best Southern accent.
I reluctantly tell her bye, knowing that I will not see her again until she’s meeting her godchild. I miss her so much. She’s my anchor when life gets out of control. It makes me sad to hear about the new guy. I guess I still held out hope that Aiden and Rachael would find their way back to each other. I know that Aiden isn’t seeing anyone—at least, for more than one night—since they broke up. But Rachael’s right, if she and Aiden aren’t moving towards the same goal then it’s cruel to continue torturing each other.
I pull into the garage, thinking about what I need to pack for tomorrow. My plane leaves at ten in the morning, and I haven’t begun to organize my clothes. I’m mentally going through my closet looking for any grey or blue ensembles when I spot it.
Colin’s maroon Escalade is gone, and its spot is now occupied with a Mercedes Benz G-class SUV. My first thought is, “It belongs in a jungle, or traversing the Sahara Desert.” Then, I notice the six-loop red bow covering the roof that further makes it look like a rectangular box on wheels. The beast is silver, but if it were painted camouflage instead it could be used in a military battle. I can’t even imagine what this tank cost. In fact, I don’t want to know. Much more than my Viking stove, and Carrera marble kitchen countertops combined.
Then, the realization hits me. This is the car he bought for me to drive when the baby arrives. “That bastard,” I say out loud as I slam my cute little convertible’s door. “He did this on purpose.” Colin left for the airport earlier today. He chose to bring this beast home because I’ll probably not see him for a couple of days. He’s hoping that my pregnant brain will forget our previous talks about buying a baby-friendly car.
We’d discussed purchasing a family-suitable vehicle. I thought we were trading in the Escalade and getting something small that I didn’t mind driving, like one of those cute little SUVs. I never agreed to this huge hunk of metal.
I stomp toward the beast of burden, and note that the gigantic red bow on top of it is truly accentuating its box-like structure. I shudder at how horrible this hunk of metal must be for the environment. Then, my eyes are drawn to a yellow sheet of paper taped to the driver’s door window.
I stalk over—more like waddle—and rip it off the glass.
“Dear Doctor Collins, I believe that this is the definition of bamboozlement.” I pause. I’m so fuming mad that he better be glad he’s thirty-thousand feet in the air, and I can’t get my hands around his thick
“At least it’ll be warm.” I try to use her minimizing-everything tactic back on her.
We chat for about ten minutes, which is epically long for us. It’s so good to talk about normal things with her. She informs me that she has a new guy in her life. He’s actually the Deputy Chief of Staff. Her description: “He’s hot, knows how to use his hips and tongue, and doesn’t want to marry me. He’s perfect.”
Rachael asks the most common question these days besides, “How’s Colin?” which is, “Any names yet?”
My laugh is over-dramatic, and very fake. I roll my eyes for affect, even though she can’t see me. “Not even close. He throws out the worst names for this child. Like he has good taste in every facet of his life, except for baby names. Seriously, if you ever decide to marry, Rach, before you say yes, ask what some of the names are that your future husband likes. I wish I’d known that Colin had such poor taste before I married him.”
Rachael laughs. “Remember? No desire to get married, and especially not to have children. I’m looking forward to being an Auntie. I’ll swoop in, smother Baby McKinney with love, gifts, and sugar, and retreat back to my quiet townhome.”
“Bitch.”
“Oh, honey, that’s what us aunties do,” she says in her best Southern accent.
I reluctantly tell her bye, knowing that I will not see her again until she’s meeting her godchild. I miss her so much. She’s my anchor when life gets out of control. It makes me sad to hear about the new guy. I guess I still held out hope that Aiden and Rachael would find their way back to each other. I know that Aiden isn’t seeing anyone—at least, for more than one night—since they broke up. But Rachael’s right, if she and Aiden aren’t moving towards the same goal then it’s cruel to continue torturing each other.
I pull into the garage, thinking about what I need to pack for tomorrow. My plane leaves at ten in the morning, and I haven’t begun to organize my clothes. I’m mentally going through my closet looking for any grey or blue ensembles when I spot it.
Colin’s maroon Escalade is gone, and its spot is now occupied with a Mercedes Benz G-class SUV. My first thought is, “It belongs in a jungle, or traversing the Sahara Desert.” Then, I notice the six-loop red bow covering the roof that further makes it look like a rectangular box on wheels. The beast is silver, but if it were painted camouflage instead it could be used in a military battle. I can’t even imagine what this tank cost. In fact, I don’t want to know. Much more than my Viking stove, and Carrera marble kitchen countertops combined.
Then, the realization hits me. This is the car he bought for me to drive when the baby arrives. “That bastard,” I say out loud as I slam my cute little convertible’s door. “He did this on purpose.” Colin left for the airport earlier today. He chose to bring this beast home because I’ll probably not see him for a couple of days. He’s hoping that my pregnant brain will forget our previous talks about buying a baby-friendly car.
We’d discussed purchasing a family-suitable vehicle. I thought we were trading in the Escalade and getting something small that I didn’t mind driving, like one of those cute little SUVs. I never agreed to this huge hunk of metal.
I stomp toward the beast of burden, and note that the gigantic red bow on top of it is truly accentuating its box-like structure. I shudder at how horrible this hunk of metal must be for the environment. Then, my eyes are drawn to a yellow sheet of paper taped to the driver’s door window.
I stalk over—more like waddle—and rip it off the glass.
“Dear Doctor Collins, I believe that this is the definition of bamboozlement.” I pause. I’m so fuming mad that he better be glad he’s thirty-thousand feet in the air, and I can’t get my hands around his thick
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