A Year of Second Chances. Buffy Andrews

A Year of Second Chances - Buffy  Andrews


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just got his driver’s permit and I’m freaking out big time. I told Roger he has to teach him. I took him driving the other day and he damn near got us killed when he went to change lanes and almost hit a car. Guess the car was in his blind spot and he didn’t see it.”

      “Yikes!”

      “Yikes is right. My heart hasn’t raced like that since taking a Black Beauty during finals week in college.”

      I laughed. “And how’s Maggie?”

      “Full of raging hormones! I swear she has a split personality. One minute she’s the nice sweet child I remember and the next a total bitch. And dealing with all of the teenage drama is driving me insane. This girl won’t be friends with that girl because that girl did something to another girl. Ugh! It’s ridiculous!”

      “Hang in there. It does get better, promise.”

      “I just can’t believe how mean thirteen-year-olds can be. The other day Maggie came home from school crying because one of her friends made fun of her in gym class. Something about her slipping on the balance beam. We were never that mean, were we?”

      “No. I definitely think girls are meaner today. I remember when Tory was in high school. I couldn’t wait until she graduated. One girl in particular was a real troublemaker. She started a rumor about Tory, telling everyone she had herpes.”

      “That’s terrible.”

      “Yes. Tory cried for days and refused to go to school. I met with the principal and said that if this student didn’t stop harassing Tory, he’d be hearing from my lawyer.”

      “So what happened?”

      “The harassment stopped and the girl apologized to Tory and told everyone she’d lied. But what a mess! It’s one of the reasons Tory became so involved in the school’s anti-bullying campaign. Even today she fights for the underdog.”

      “How’s Tory doing anyway?”

      “Great. I can’t believe she graduates next week and that we’re moving her to New York the following week.”

      “So she found housing?”

      “Yeah, but it’s superexpensive. Mike is subsidizing her. I knew he would after seeing she could only afford rundown rat holes in the seediest parts of town. One place was particularly bad. It was basically one big room and the bathtub was next to the stove, which was next to the refrigerator in what was supposed to be a ‘kitchen area.’”

      “Good grief!”

      “Yeah. It was terrible. She ended up finding a cute place on the Upper East Side not far from Central Park. It has a lot of charm. Wooden floors, high ceilings and some built-ins.”

      “Sounds fabulous. I envy her.”

      “Me, too. I feel as if she’s living my dream. Don’t get me wrong, I’m incredibly proud of Tory. She’s working for a large advertising agency doing the exact job I wanted to do when I was her age. But I’d be lying if I didn’t admit how envious I am. Living and working in a big city has always been a dream of mind. After all, it was on the list.”

      “But you did live in a big city,” Shonna pointed out.

      “True, but it wasn’t exactly what I had in mind at seventeen. Don’t you remember? It was on your list, too.”

      Shonna sighed. “I do. We were going to share an apartment, have great jobs and make lots of money.”

      “Not that I didn’t enjoy being a nanny, but it wasn’t exactly the career in marketing I’d dreamt of.

      “Well, it’s not too late to tackle the list. It’ll be fun watching the forty-nine-year-old you complete the list the seventeen-year-old you made.”

      “Thanks… I think. And good luck with Maggie and Jason. I’m sure everything will work out. Love you!”

      “Love you, too.”

      I hung up the phone and found a random number generator online. I punched in the numbers and clicked the button. Number three. Live in a big city. Hmm. Definitely something to think about but I wasn’t sure I was ready to tackle that one just yet so I hit the number generator again. Dance in the rain. Good one but you needed rain and it was a buttercup kind of day. I decided to start with number one. I knew marrying Jake was no longer possible, but I wondered what he was up to. Besides, I’d already started the online search.

      I heard the dryer buzzer. I waddled to the laundry room and removed the clothes, pulling out a trio of granny panties, a pair of baggy jeans and a few tops the size of small tents. I’d never felt more motivated to check out a gym; maybe this time I’d go.

      I went to the kitchen and made a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Tory had texted me earlier and said she’d be calling later. I went back to the computer and typed Jake’s name into the Google search box. I scanned the results but didn’t find him. I tried Facebook next. Bingo! He had an account, but there were only a handful of posts, the last of which was four years old. To be honest, I was surprised Jake was even on Facebook, but, when I saw all the high-school reunion photos on his page, I figured he probably only joined to keep in touch.

      I couldn’t resist checking out the photos. Jake had moved when we were in ninth grade and graduated from a neighboring high school, but I knew a lot of his friends because we’d dated for so long. I recognized a stunning blonde in a short black sequin dress with a slit up the side. Her legs went on forever and she looked as if she hadn’t aged at all. I glanced down at my frumpy self, dressed in gray sweats and an oversized pink tee. I rubbed my stomach, which looked like I was six months pregnant. Realizing I’d once been a size six and now was more than double that filled me with self-loathing.

      I took a bite of my sandwich and searched LinkedIn. There were several Jake Millers but I found him. Even with a bald head, I’d recognize that smile punctuated by dimples anywhere.

      He lived in Los Angeles. He was a defense attorney engaged in civil litigation matters. His profile wasn’t lengthy, just the nuts and bolts. I turned off the computer and went to get ready for bed. Tomorrow was Saturday, and I’d decided to visit the gym I passed on my way to work. It was relatively new and I’d heard some good things about it. If I was going to run a marathon, I needed to take that first step.

      My phone beeped. It was a text from Tory.

       Sorry Mom. Still studying at library. Call you tomorrow.

      I typed: K

      I couldn’t believe my baby girl was graduating from college. I walked into her room and sat on her bed. I picked up her favorite stuffed animal, a fluffy brown bear Mike had won at the county fair when Tory was two. I patted the bed, remembering all of the nights I’d tucked her in and listened to her prayers, her little hands mashed together forming a tiny teepee.

      The room was pale pink and a white quilt with pink flowers covered the white canopy bed we’d bought when she was five. Ballet posters hung on the walls and I wondered if she ever missed dancing. Growing up, she’d belonged to a dance company and throughout high school practiced nearly every day.

      When I wasn’t running Tory to dance lessons I was running David to whatever sport was in season. It was hard when David went to college. I missed watching him play baseball and basketball and cheering until my throat felt like sandpaper. About the only thing I didn’t mind when David left was my grocery bill – it’d been cut in half.

      I knew when Tory left it would be even more difficult than with David. Now there were no kids at home, just Muffin and I, and my days suddenly seemed as if they’d lengthened by miles. Sure, Tory came home to visit and spent college breaks with me, but it wasn’t the same as seeing her first thing in the morning and last thing at night. Or having someone to share Chinese Night with.

      About the only thing that saved me from wallowing in self-pity were Mom and Dad. Tommy lived out of state, so I was the one they called when they needed help.


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