Super Mom Saves The World, Chapter 1 (continued)
"It's this Vienna person. Kelly is totally infatuated with her. I'm sorry - I hope Chrissie doesn't feel left out."
"Of course she doesn't," Carrie snapped, a bit too defensively. "She's perfectly fine."
"I'm sure she is. And I'm sure this will all blow over, and everything will be the way it was." I smiled, she smiled, and we both looked away.
"Isn't there anything left in this world that doesn't change?" I asked with an unexpected - melancholy - sigh.
"Well, let's see…oh, I've got it! Doctor Dan will always be an asshole!"
"True." I snorted, grateful to my friend - who was my friend, no matter what happened between our daughters - always ready to cheer me up with a well-timed zinger aimed at my ex-husband.
"And he'll always have a tiny penis…"
"Carrie! Shhh! I should never have told you that!" We both giggled like twelve year olds, then we got back to work because it was five PM; Magic Hour at the Marvel Food and Fine Beverages, when everyone stopped in on their way home from work.
I greeted the first person in line. "Hi, Mary! Going to the PTA meeting next Thursday?"
"Of course. I think our esteemed president would kill me if I didn't." Mary Denton nodded toward Carrie, who grinned.
"So, let me guess…" I scanned the items from her cart, the usual carrot sticks, lunch meats, cheese, spaghetti - and two six-packs of Gatorade and a case of Power Bars. "Is it baseball season already? It's only late March!"
"Opening day is in two weeks!" Mary beamed. "This year is going to be great! Jimmy might be starting left field. And with the new sports complex going up, who knows what will happen? Mayor Linseed even hinted that we might get the Little League World Series! It's all so exciting!"
"I don't know, it's not like we're getting a Krispy Kreme - now that I could get excited about!"
"But we need the revenue, especially since Super Mom shut New Cosmos down," Mary said.
"Well, she had a good reason for doing it. Children were getting very sick because of that junk food." I tried not to sound too defensive.
"But it was locally-grown, patriotic junk food. And half the town lost their jobs when they shut the place down. So all the new construction for the ballpark is a good thing!"
I scowled, pausing in my scanning to look across the road, just past the empty headquarters of New Cosmos Industries, former manufacturer of patriotic junk food that had almost been the ruin of the children of Astro Park. In the distance inched, boldly and bravely toward the sky, a brand new youth sports complex. The pet project of Astro Park's longtime mayor, John Linseed, it was the talk and hope of a town still reeling from the loss of its biggest - albeit evil-to-the-core - industry.
And what thanks had I - the superhero who risked life and limb to shut it down - gotten? A memorial trash can. I could see it now, standing on the corner of Elm and Taylor. Somebody had trampled the daffodils the Beautifying Committee had planted around it. And the trash can itself was covered by graffiti that declared "Super Mom Sukz." I made a mental note to stop by after work and take care of it. (Either correct the spelling, or clean it up. Depended on what kind of mood I was in.)
"Mayor Linseed's coming to the PTA meeting on Thursday," Carrie said. "Apparently he has a special request. Related, of course, to the building of yet another shrine to sports while arts and academics in this country go to hell in a hand basket."
"Stupid mayor," I muttered. The trash can had been his idea.
"I bet he wants money," Carrie said.
"He's a politician, isn't he?" Mary asked with a wise sigh, pushing her cart out the door.
I didn't look up to see who was next. But I could guess from the plethora of Tums, Rolaids and Pepto-Bismal rolling down my conveyor belt.
"Coach Henderson." I greeted the man built like a drill sergeant, but with the kindest face - all creases and tired acceptance - I'd ever seen. "Ready for the start of the season?"
"It's gonna be a great one! And I'm not just saying that because I'm head coach!"
"I know." I smiled and took his money, proffered in a big paw of a hand. "But are you ready for the parents?"
Coach leaned in and whispered as only he could. (Meaning - everyone in the store could hear.) "I'm never ready for the parents! The kids, they're great. But those parents…" He shook his head.
"Maybe it'll be different this year."
"I don't think so. The mayor is already pressuring me to field a championship team. It'll be more of a draw, he says - more revenue for the new complex. It's a shame, really. In my day we played in an abandoned lot, with rocks for bases. And we were happier than these kids, let me tell you-"
A loud thwack caused us both to jump; someone had thrown a huge bag of ice on Carrie's conveyor belt. We all watched as a mean-faced little man turned to the boy - who could have been anywhere between eleven and fourteen because of his slight frame, coupled with big feet - behind him.
"What'd I tell you? What? It's not that heavy! You could have lifted it - you need to bulk up, remember? You can't let that little snot of a Denton beat you out for left field again!"
"And so it begins." Coach Henderson shook his head. "Little Brian-" he jerked his thumb in the boy's direction - "He's not a bad player - a little slow off the bounce, maybe, but not bad. And he's a good kid, too. But that father…"
"Yeah." We watched as "that father" grabbed a candy bar out of Brian's hand.
"What? No candy for you - I told you you have to lose five pounds. You're too slow. Too lazy. Too fat and lazy."
It grew quiet in the store. The only sounds were the rustle of bags, the steady hum of conveyor belts - and the constant berating of a boy who seemed to shrink with every word, every breath, his father expelled.
"Hey, Brian," Coach Henderson growled in his kind way, as Brian's father paused for breath and paid for the ice.
"Hey, Coach." Brian smiled, his pale, peaked face gaining a little color.
"Hello, Mr. Derringer." Coach's face darkened, but he still managed to give a polite nod to the boy's father.
"Coach Henderson! Well, are you going to come to your senses this year and start Brian? I admit last year he was lazy-" Brian winced - "But this year should be different. I'll make sure it's different, won't I, Brian?"
Brian didn't say anything; nobody did. Although Coach Henderson growled like a furnace getting ready to blast.
"Brian's a fine little player, Mr. Derringer. No need to make sure of anything. I'll see you at practice." Coach popped open a bottle of Tums and poured some down his throat, crunching like mad, as he grabbed his bag and trundled out the door - after stopping to give Brian a weathered, but kind, smile. Brian's eyes lit up, just for a moment; then they glazed over, as if a curtain had been pulled across them.
"Grab that ice, Brian. Are you happy now? Coach saw what a wimp you are. Now take that ice to the car and hold it on your lap all the way home. I'm turning on the air conditioning, too." Mr. Derringer - who had a face like a ferret with sharp, pinched features not unlike his son's, only his were etched out of meanness, not sadness - pushed Brian toward the door, causing him to hit his thin shin against a grocery cart and tumble down, ice and all.
"Hey, you!" I couldn't help myself; I leaped over my conveyor belt and pulled the child up, since his father wasn't moving a muscle to help him. "There's no need for that - are you all right, sweetheart?"
He nodded, his nose red, his chin quivering, trying for all his might not to cry.
"Excuse me, who are you?" Mr. Derringer grabbed the ice - and Brian's arm.
"I'm - well, I work here, and -"
"Then keep your nose out of other people's business. Who do you think you are, Super Mom?"
"If I were you," I growled, narrowing my eyes into a Merciless Gaze, raising my right arm. "I wouldn't ask that question…"
"Birdie!" Carrie appeared by my side and grabbed my arm. "Birdie, look, you have customers!"
"Yes, go back to your customers, miss. And I'll take care of my son. Do-gooder." Mr. Derringer spat this last and pulled Brian out the automatic doors; through the window I could see him plunk the bag of ice back in the boy's arms and stride away toward the parking lot, not looking back to see if Brian was following.
"Carrie, I swear…" I was trembling all over.
"Birdie, remember where you are - remember who you are. For now."
"I know, I know." I went back to my register and started scanning groceries - frozen peas, chocolate syrup, granola, Band-Aids, razors. I didn't look up, trying to concentrate on just being Birdie Lee, mild-mannered grocery clerk. I needed to get hold of myself; this was Little League season, after all. If I ran around flinging toxic cleaning fluid into the eyes of every parent I saw yelling at a child, I'd probably fling myself dry.
"I hate baseball season," I muttered anyway. "Thank God Martin never played."
"And thank God I have a daughter who hates sports," Carrie agreed.
"I'm so glad I'm with a kind man." I thought of Mr. Derringer and shuddered. "Not one of those frustrated ex-jocks living out their fantasies through their kids."
"You're lucky. You've got the last sane man in Astro Park."
"Well, let's not tell him. It might go to his head." Finally I was able to smile, trying to put the thought of Mr. Derringer and his mean, pinched little face out of my mind. But there was an obstacle to this: The parade of juice boxes, power bars and Gatorade rolling steadily down my conveyor belt, fortifications for Little League Season. I sighed, and reached for the next item in the endless stream of consumer goods. A bottle of Mr. Clean.
But then I gasped.
For just as I swiped his shiny butt over the scanner, Mr. Clean turned his grinning bald head, looked at me. And winked.
"Carrie - I - remember what I was saying about inanimate objects?" I stammered.
"Yes?"
"Well, this bottle of Mr. Clean…"
Carrie froze, a 2-liter bottle of Pepsi in her hand. She turned to look at me, a concerned scowl on her face.
"What would be wrong with that bottle of Mr. Clean, Birdie?" She asked in her soothing, hypnotic psychiatrist voice. "That plastic bottle of perfectly ordinary cleaning solution you're holding in your hand?"
I looked at her, at the stout woman in my checkout line who was staring at me as I manhandled her bottle of Mr. Clean. I swallowed, tried to smile, and shook my head.
"Nothing, never mind. I must be tired, that's all." I placed the bottle - very gently - down among the rest of the items. Carrie nodded with approval - although her eyes, little blue stars magnified by her thick eyeglasses, did blink once or twice - and turned back to her own customer, as I continued to scan perishable and non-perishable items. But as I did, I couldn't help but feel as if someone was watching me.
And that feeling didn't go away until Mr. Clean was double - no, make that triple - bagged and put away in a shopping cart. Covered up by a giant bag of kitty litter.
Order Confessions of Super Mom Contact Melanie for Book Club Visit Contests and Fun Additional Melanie Writing
Reprinted from Super Mom Saves The World by Melanie Lynne Hauser by permission of NAL, a member of Penguin Group (USA) Inc. Copyright © 2006 by Melanie Lynne Hauser. All rights reserved. This excerpt, or any parts thereof, may not be reproduced without permission.
>