Lauren Takes Leave (23 page)

“I’m just checking my messages,” I say. “But that’s pretty
good, actually. I’m gonna use that line. iDicted.”

The balmy, sweet-smelling air of southern Florida envelops
us as we exit the terminal and hail a cab.

“This is a
maz
ing!” Jodi cheers. “I love you guys! I
love us!” We tell the driver where we’re headed and sit back in the cab,
rolling down the windows and admiring the palm trees. Jodi begins unwrapping
herself like a mummy, letting go layer upon layer of cotton, until all that’s
left is a bandeau top and miniskirt.

“How did you do that?” Kat demands. “How the fuck does she
do that?” she reiterates, turning to me.

“It’s a gift,” Jodi concedes.

“So, are you going to visit your grandma?” I ask Jodi.

“Are you kidding me?” she says. “Of course I’m not!”

“But…why not? She only lives a few miles from the hotel, I
thought.”

“Yeah, and she has dementia and won’t know if I’m there or
not. If anyone in my family asks her, ‘Oh, how was your visit from Jodi?’
she’ll probably say, ‘Jodi? Who’s Jodi?’ So, why waste the time? I’ll send a
basket of oranges with a card.”

“A demented grandmother as an alibi. I love it.” Kat nods
approvingly.

I try to finish replying to Lenny’s e-mail without them
noticing, which of course fails miserably. He suggests that we stay at the
Delano, but I tell him we already made reservations.

“You love him,” Jodi teases. “He’s your pretend
boyfriend.”

I smile and ignore them, finishing my e-mail and putting
the phone away.

“It’s not funny, you know,” Kat says. “Adultery.”

I think of Kat crouched on a stool in her classroom
closet, wasting her money on calls to a psychic hotline, her husband running
off. “You’re right,” I say, taking her hand. “It’s not funny at all. I’m an
insensitive jerk to flirt with Lenny, after all you’ve gone through.”

“Me?” Kat asks. “I don’t care about you flirting in front
of me. I mean because of Doug.”

She has a point.

I haven’t given much thought to that aspect of my
flirtationship.

“But, you
can’t
think of your husband if you’re,
like, fantasizing about some other guy,” Jodi explains, like it’s simple math.
“That’s just a buzzkill.” She readjusts her bandeau top. “Anyway, it seems
completely harmless. As my grandmother always says, ‘There’s nothing wrong with
looking, as long as you don’t touch the merchandise.’”

“Yeah,” I say, “but she’s delusional!”

“Just don’t touch, Lauren,” Jodi reiterates.

“All the thrills without the chills?” Kat jokes.

“Story of my life,” Jodi says cryptically, as the cab
pulls up in front of our hotel.

We quickly check in, change, and head down to the
cerulean water, edged with sand the color of a light suntan. We walk as far as
we can from the more crowded part of the beach and choose a nice, secluded
spot. An attendant sets up three lounge chairs facing the sun and orders some
lunch for us. Jodi gets a margarita, the thought of which makes both Kat and me
queasy. “Tonight we’ll join you,” I promise her. “We require a few more hours
of detox first, though.”

It’s only 12:30 p.m., and we’re sitting by the aquamarine
ocean. I close my eyes and listen to the soft surf, the seagulls overhead, and
my own shallow breathing. “I can’t believe we did this! I am chillaxing!” I
declare.

“Mmm,” Jodi concurs, flipping through the pages of yet
another tabloid magazine. Her BlackBerry buzzes and we all jump. She picks it
up from the plastic side table and examines the message. “You’ve got to be
kidding me! An ‘emergency’ text from the PTA. Urgent committee chair meeting
today at two o’clock, regarding T-shirt sales.” She flings the device into her
bag with disgust. “I am on vacation, people, now leave me alone!”

“Damn straight,” Kat adds. “I’m going to sleep.”

After lunch, I end up reading Jodi’s tabloids and then
pass out in the sun for most of the afternoon.

I wake up to the sound of Kat thumbing away at her
BlackBerry. At first, I think I’m still back with her behind the bushes outside
Leslie’s neighbor’s house. Then I see the sun hanging low in the sky just
behind a palm tree and remember where I really am.

A sudden memory of the horrors of the night before flashes
across my frontal cortex and I groan.

“Hello, Sleeping Beauty,” Jodi sings. “Nice bruise you got
there on your knee.”

I look down to see that the toilet incident in Leslie’s
lav did in fact leave a colorful memento.

“How’d you get that?” Kat asks, looking up from her
keypad.

“Oh, you know, this and that,” I say.

“I can’t believe you guys are cutting school!” Jodi says.
“This is just like
Ferris Bueller’s Day Off
.” We then spend several
minutes debriefing about how we left things at school, with Kat filling Jodi in
on her more-than-slight problem with the
di
ministration and Psycho Mom.
I ask their opinion about Martha and how I think she’s onto me.

“Classic paranoia,” Jodi dismisses. “No one cares about
you nearly as much as you do; I’ve learned that the hard way. Not even your
lover boy, MC Little Douche Bag or whatever his name is.”

“MC Lenny Katzenberg,” I clarify. “And I bet he has been
thinking about me. I probably received a few playfully naughty texts from him
while I was sleeping.”

I check my phone to find that there are no playfully
naughty texts from MC Lenny.

“Bad reception?” Kat asks.

“Mm,” I say. Although I did get another e-mail from Doug.

“Sunset yoga,” a soothing female voice sings from across
the sand. We stop our conversation and turn in the direction of the sound.

“She’s over there,” Jodi points. “Follow the harem pants.”

“Sunset yoga,” the woman calls again, this time much
closer to us. “Starting in five minutes.”

“Hey,” Kat calls back, standing and stretching. “How much
for me and my friends?” Kat is a certified instructor for vinyasa and hatha and
about fourteen other types of yoga. When she’s not discussing astrological and
psychic energies with Varka, she’s perfecting a pose and meditating.

Or she’s drinking and cursing. There’s a fine balance.

The woman comes closer. She’s a toned, tan, tiny sprite of
a thing who makes even Kat look normal size. Her legs are hidden beneath
flowing pink pants, but her muscular torso is on full view in a string-bikini
top. “It’s free for hotel guests,” she smiles, twisting her long blond hair
into a knot on the top of her head. “Right over here.” She points toward an
area a short walk down the beach. “And we provide the mats. All you need to
bring is some water and your chi.” She looks like the yogi version of Shakira,
abs and all. She carries a stick of burning incense in her right hand.

“Let’s try it! Sounds fun!” Jodi says.

I am not convinced. Exercise is one of those things I like
to avoid as much as possible. Especially when hung over and already sweaty.
“I’m thinking that upside down is not going to be my favorite state of being,”
I say, “but you guys go on.”

“We said we’d do everything together on this trip,” Kat
reminds me.

“When did we say that?”

“Just now.” She half smiles.

“Funny. Fine,” I say. We gather our things and follow the
harem lady and a trail of woody incense down the beach. She nods her approval
and tells us that her name is Debbie.

I preferred Shakira.

Jodi picks up our conversation from where we left off.
“How was that party, by the way? You guys didn’t say much about it.”

“Just typical girls’-night-out stuff,” Kat mumbles,
adjusting the beach bag on her shoulder and hiding behind her towel.

“Yeah…just…you know, pole dancing, dominatrices, dildos,
and a little bit of a lesbian lovefest…very suburban, boring, nothing to
report.” I grin.

Jodi’s eyes go wide, and Kat hits me on the arm. “Lauren!”

“Holy crap hell! Do tell!” Jodi rhymes.

“What?” I say to Kat, who squints menacingly my way.

We reach a shady spot on the beach under some palm trees.
Ten blue mats are set up, and several other participants have already arrived.
We drop our belongings in the sand and grab three spots at the back of the
group. Jodi positions herself between Kat and me.

I’m not going to feel bad. I mean, this is Jodi. It’s not
like I’m going to spill Kat’s secret to the whole world.

“I think it would be good for both of us, actually, Kat.
To unburden ourselves,” I say, stretching.

Jodi looks at us with really fake sincerity, because she’s
so thirsty for gossip that she can’t even pretend that she isn’t thrilled.
“Yes! Unburden.”

Kat pulls her hair off her face and tucks it into a hat,
buying time. “Well,
I
really think we should begin by discussing my
friend’s
awesomely sexy
dance moves, which inadvertently left our
hostess with the need for six stitches across her left cheek.”

“Touché,” I say.

“Ouch!” Jodi says.

“Welcome.” Debbie smiles, palms pressed together over her
heart. We mimic the pose. “Let us begin with a series of sun salutations.”

I work my way through the movements, and then, when I
think it’s safe enough to talk, continue the conversation, sotto voce.
“Although,
I
think the better story is how
my awesomely sexy
little friend here got the new
female
school board president drunk, and
then fooled around with her in the guest bedroom.”

“Nice!” Jodi says, peering up at Kat through her legs, in
a Downward Dog pose.

“Did I mention that this female that Kat fooled around
with is also a girl? Like Kat? A
female woman girl
?” I say, my face
turning red as the blood rushes to it. I move from Downward- to Upward-Facing
Dog.

“Yup! Caught it the first time!” Jodi says. “Katy Perry,
here she comes!”

“Hey, that was my line!” I add enthusiastically.

“Shh,” warns a man in a Speedo in the row in front of
ours. He moves into Warrior II and we follow suit, remaining quiet for a few
minutes.

The ocean is peaceful and still as the sun begins to drop
lower in the sky. A slight breeze moves across the beach and cools me down. The
palms rustle overhead and I feel more relaxed than I have in a long time.

My mind has a moment to empty. But just as I try to
imagine a clear, blank slate, a question pops into my head that I cannot
ignore. “Kat,” I whisper. “How do you know that Leslie needed six stitches?”

Jodi and I both look at Kat. She’s holding a beautiful
Tree pose, but what I see before me is a classic double pause followed by a
triple fidget. I’ve caught her at something.

“I’m just guessing,” she says, trying to stay balanced.

“Bullshit.” Surprisingly, this comes from Jodi and not me.

“Ladies, if you cannot be quiet, I will have to ask you to
leave the group,” Debbie says, pseudo-sweetly, biceps flexing. I remind myself
that underneath the calm façade is the body of a woman who could seriously kick
my ass.

“Fine.” Kat tilts her head skyward and stares at the
darkening blue expanse for a moment, neck arched, liked she’s stretching. She
sighs. Then she turns toward us. “This morning I friended Shay on Facebook. She
told me.”

“Really? Why would you do that? I thought the goal was to
distance yourself from the crime scene, not leave your fingerprints all over
her, metaphorically speaking.”

“Do you know how many people probably friended Shay after
she won the election?” Kat says, expertly switching her Tree pose to the other
leg. “On Facebook, I’ll hardly stand out from her admiring crowd.”

This is true. It’s probably a nonissue, I think, relaxing
into Pigeon pose. I close my eyes, the sun’s glow trapped inside my lids,
turning my inner vision a bright tangerine. Inhale, exhale.

Kat clears her throat as we stand up and switch positions once
more. “Of course, now that Shay’s asked me to be her PTA liaison to the
faculty, I guess we’ll be spending a lot of time working together. Afternoons,
evenings. Perhaps just the two of us.” She raises an eyebrow meaningfully.

“Kat! Are you joking or are you insane?” I shout.

“Shh,” Jodi says, looking around apologetically. “You’re
kind of yelling, Lauren.”

“I don’t care! Ever since Peter broke up with her, she’s
been, like, on a mission toward self-destruction. She’s
completely
lost
it!” I turn my head to Kat, maintaining my Warrior pose, if not my composure.
My arm reaches out in her direction, accusingly. “Do you have a death wish? I
mean, we left town because of
your
little tryst with Shay last night.”

“Eagle!” Debbie cries desperately.

We ignore her.

“Newsflash, Lauren. You have it backward:
I
did
you
a favor.”

“Um…keep it down, psycho yogis,” Jodi adds. “Let’s play
nice and have fun here. I came for a
break
from stress!”

We let that sink in. I turn away from Kat and face the ocean
once more.

“Namaste and all that shit,” Jodi adds.

Lowering my voice to the level of one appropriate in yoga
class, I try for a softer, albeit still defensive, tactic. “Kat, do you really
want to lose your job and perhaps cause a scandal for Shay Greene and her whole
perfect family?”

“My job
that I hate
, you mean?” Kat yoga-yells
back. “And why does Shay get to have it so easy? Everything’s so perfect, huh?
Maybe
her
life needs a little bit of messing up like mine!”

“Happy Baby!” Debbie cries. “Happy Baby, everyone!”

I lie on my back, grabbing my toes with my hands. “You
didn’t just say that, Kat.” I’m trying to relinquish some of my anger by
rocking back and forth in the pose. “You want her to go down
with
you?
In some sort of suburban
Desperate Housewives
scene, where you guys are
found making out in the janitor’s closet at the elementary school? I know you
are hurting, and maybe this all seems like fun in your head, but are you really
that demented?”