The Misadventures of the Laundry Hag - #2 Swept under the Rug Page 6

  I scrambled for the kitchen and picked up in the middle of the third ring. The clock on the stove read 5:58. “Hello?”

  “Mrs. Phillips?” This is Mrs. O’Toole. We’re calling in the phone tree, for a two hour delay.” Mrs. O’Toole seemed perturbed by the early hour. I know I did. The Superintendent of our district was a nut, afraid that Big Brother was watching his every move and refused to upgrade to an automated emergency system. So we had to do the phone tree thing in alphabetical order every stinking time there was a snow delay. To top it off, he always put us on a two hour delay first, even if Rudolph was needed to see through the soup, so we had to do it twice.

  “Do you know who your contact person is?” Mrs. O’Toole grumped.

  “I’ve got the Prescott’s number memorized.” And on speed dial number four in case, like this morning, I didn’t have my coffee yet.

  “Talk to you at eight.” Mrs. O’Toole hung up.

  I called the Prescott residence, relayed the message and shuffled down to the boys’ room to turn off their alarm clocks.

  Kenny, a very light sleeper, blinked up at me. I clicked his radio off. “Wha…?”

  “Go back to sleep, pal.” I murmured and backed out of the room.

  I yawned and headed toward the coffee maker, stopping short to see my husband already filling the pot.

  “What are you doing up?” Since it was Wednesday, Neil didn’t need to be in until two for his four hour shift.

  “Thought I’d head to work early, see if I could catch a little more overtime this week.”

  “Oh,” I said. While his explanation made sense, I hated any extra time Neil spent at work. We’d missed out on a great deal of together time while he was career navy and though his current job was less demanding, I still felt cheated when he wasn’t around.

  “What’s on your agenda for the day?” He asked as he scooped grounds into the coffee filter.

  Not wanting to mention the make-up Dr. Bob visit, I struggled for something else to tell him. “I have a cleaning job at noon. New client over on Rosewood Lane.” I hastened to add at his scowl.

  His expression cleared a bit. “Do me a favor and beg off any more jobs at the Valentino’s for a bit, okay? That bird was a warning for them and the whole situation gives me a chill.”

  “Me too,” I agreed, hoping he wouldn’t notice that I hadn’t promised anything. While I never lied to Neil, I did sometimes leave out information, for his own peace of mind, of course. I wasn’t due back at the Valentino’s ‘til Friday afternoon anyhow.

  “Are you still looking for a new cleaning partner?” Neil queried as he retrieved the Frosted Flakes from the pantry. I swear the man eats like an eight-year- old.

  “I’m not sure,” I answered. I watched him dump four tablespoons of sugar on his ½ cup of cereal. And the crazy part was he’d never had a cavity in his life. “I’m only working about twenty hours a week at this point and the schedule is erratic. It’s hard to find an employee who’ll put up with that.”

  “Why don’t you ask Penny? She might help you out.” Neil dumped milk over his tooth-decay-in-a-bowl.

  Was he serious? “If you’ll recall, I’ve tried the pregnant cleaning partner route before and it didn’t turn out very well.” I poured my coffee and took the first bracing sip.

  Neil shrugged and ate his cereal. “It was only a suggestion. She seems nice, kind of reminds me of you.”

  Coffee went down my windpipe and I choked, tears welling in my eyes. “What do you mean?” I wheezed.

  Neil shook his head and rinsed his empty bowl. “Nothing, I guess it’s the accent.”

  Grrrr.

  “I’m going to take a shower. Wanna conserve water and share?” The heat in his green eyes was unmistakable. Chances were good that until Marty and Penny moved on, the only private time we could claim would be in the shower.

  I opened my mouth to reply, but Penny glided into the room. No waddling for this pregnant Southern Belle. “Morning ya’ll. That sure is one comfy bed, much better than the fold out in the camper.”

  “I’m happy you slept well.” I stretched to alleviate the stiffness in my back. Neil gave Penny a wink and headed off to the bathroom. Alone. I sighed and poured more coffee.

  “So, Penny, have you thought of any baby names yet?” It struck me as I observed her silhouette that I was going to be an auntie. I loved babies and babies that I could cuddle and spoil on a regular basis were the best.

  “Not really,” Penny said mildly. She poured a glass of milk. “I guess we’ll see what she looks like.”

  “So it’s a girl?”

  “I don’t know.” I waited for her to continue, but she just drank her milk.

  “Well, have you had an ultrasound yet?” I probed.

  “Nope.”

  A nasty thought took root. “You have been to an obstetrician, right?”

  “Nu uh.”

  “A midwife then,” I grasped. No reply. I blinked and then blinked again. “Penny, you have to get prenatal care. You should be on vitamins, and have tests—”

  “Relax, Maggie. Women have been having babies since the dawn of time. It’s a natural process.”

  “Yeah and women died having babies without proper medical treatment. Do you have medical insurance?” But I already knew what the answer would be before she shook her head.

  Fricken’ perfect. My brother had no job and no insurance and apparently neither did Penny. Unless this baby wanted to wait until Obama care set in, they were up the creek. With a child on the way and no place to live except an ancient death trap on wheels. Lord, have mercy.

  “If you’ll excuse me a minute,” I shot her a wan smile then marched to my bedroom. Marty lay sprawled on top of the covers, bare ass exposed to the world. I swiped a sneaker from the floor and flung it at the full moon.

  “What the—” Marty launched out of bed.

  “Get your hide in gear. You’re coming cleaning with me.”

  “Now?” Marty asked with a glance at the alarm clock.

  “No, later. Now, you’re going to get on the computer and do a little research into insurance plans and OB/GYN’s for your pregnant girlfriend. Did you know she hasn’t been to a doctor yet?” I hissed.

  “Well, that’s really her call—”

  “Not while she’s carrying my niece or nephew and sleeping in my bed it isn’t. This family has endured enough tragedy and I refuse to sit by and do nothing while you two endanger a child.”

  “Calm down, Maggs, we’re on top of it.”

  “The only thing you were on top of is my duvet. Now you have a choice. Either be a grown up and earn your keep or get out.”

  Marty took a step back, eyes going wide. “You don’t mean that.”

  “The hell I don’t.” I understood his disbelief. Even before Neil and I had married, my home had always been Marty’s safe haven, a place to weather any shit storm he’d stirred up. Time and again, he’d put strain on our home life and my relationship with Neil. But expecting to mooch and act like a runaway from Juvie hall wasn’t gonna happen this time.

  Marty opened and closed his mouth a few times like a large mouth Bass. Really, though, what could he say? I stepped closer and lowered my voice. “You’re better than what you’ve become, Sprout. I want to be proud of you, I do. You have to earn it, though. So get to work.”

  “Anything else, boss?” though his tone was snide, I answered him seriously.

  “Yeah, put on some pants for Chrissakes.”

  * * * *

  “Hello?” The obnoxious clock in Dr. Bob’s waiting room read ten minutes to ten when I answered my cell. There was still no sign of a receptionist and no voices carried from behind his closed door. True to my prediction, the schools were closed due to inclement weather. I’d left Penny in charge of the house almost half an hour before, not wanting to be late to my therapy session. Somehow, I doubted Dr. Bob would accept the weather as a suitable excuse for tardiness.

  “Hey there, Laundry Hag,” Leo
’s voice carried over the phone and I sighed in relief to hear him so chipper.

  “I’m very sorry,” I began, though I still wasn’t sure why he’d been so upset the day before. We’d known each other for a decade and this wasn’t the first time I’d behaved like an insensitive buffoon.

  “Water under the bridge, Maggie, really. Can I ask you a favor though?”

  “Sure Leo, anything. Ask away.”

  “I was wondering if you were still seeking a cleaning partner.”

  “Oh my God,” I breathed. “Leo did you get fired?” I couldn’t imagine it, my in-laws without Leo. I’d have lost my spy in the enemy camp. It’s not always about you, Margaret. My mother’s voice scolded, but then again she’d never met Laura.

  “No, no you silly goose.” Leo laughed and I closed my eyes in thanksgiving. “I’m asking for Richard, not myself.”

  Ah yes, the notorious Richard Head. Seriously, what had his mother been thinking? Maybe, if I name my baby Richard Head, he’ll never have a relationship and take care of me in my dotage. Seemed like her plan was working too.

  “Richard wants a cleaning job?” I asked, my gaze on the ticking clock. I didn’t want Dr. Bob coming out and catching me on the phone, though I wasn’t sure why it mattered.

  “Yeah, he told me last night he lost his job at the bank, he’d been a loan officer, you know and I guess he made one too many bad calls with lending. Anyhow, now everyone is tightening up their belt buckles and he’s SOL. So, I talked him into trying something new.”

  “By coming to clean with me? Leo, I just hired Marty, who is in a mess of his own and I don’t have enough jobs….”

  “So take on a few more.” Leo suggested.

  “Well, like you said, with the economy, people are looking to scale back. There aren’t that many more jobs to be had, Leo.”

  “You should think bigger. How about cleaning for businesses? Like doctor’s offices or a law firm.”

  That’s what I love about Leo. America’s in the throes of financial crisis and he makes it sound like I’d be an idiot not to expand my business.

  It was two minutes to ten. “All right Leo, I’ll look into it on one condition.”

  “What’s that?” His tone was wary.

  “I’ll need two teams of two and you have to pair with Marty or I might throttle him.”

  “Oh goodie,” Leo said with relish. Unlike me, Leo intimidated Marty, not in a homophobic way as much as in an I don’t get you, man way. I knew Leo would not only moonlight as my team two point man, but get some actual work out of my brother. Plus the likelihood of Marty’s death-by-strangulation went down considerably.

  “I’ll check into it and get back to you.” I said and shut my phone. Dr. Bob’s office door swung inwards.

  “Mrs. Phillips,” Dr Bob made a sweeping gesture indicating I should enter his private domain.

  “How are you, Dr. Bob?” I asked politely, forcing a smile. Possibly, I was more nervous than I’d been the day before. He ignored my attempt at pleasantry.

  “So Maggie,” Dr. Bob began as I sat on the edge of the chair. “Did you and your husband have sex last night?”

  So much for chit chat. “No,” I answered honestly, though why I felt a pang of guilt was a mystery.

  “I see.” Dr. Bob scribbled something on his pad that looked suspiciously like the word frigid. “Do you make your desires known to him, Maggie?”

  No one had ever accused me of being subtle. “Always,” I stated.

  “And how would you rate your sex drive, on a scale of one to ten.”

  Hell, he was asking me to do math? I thought I’d been done with math after scraping by the accounting class requirement for my business degree several years ago. “I’m not sure—”

  “How about Neil’s then? What would you rank his desire for sexual intercourse as being on that same scale?”

  “Um, I’m not sure—”

  “Is his higher or lower than yours?”

  “Higher,” He is a man, after all.

  “How much higher? One point, two, five?” Dr. Bob dug like a bloodhound sniffing out a meaty ham hock

  “I’d say he’s about three points higher, but that’s normal, isn’t it?”

  He didn’t answer, just scribbled away on that damn pad again.

  Do not get huffy or defensive. I counseled myself. Not like anyone else was going to see the notes he was making about my sex life.

  “In any relationship, communication is essential. When I say communication, I’m referring to both verbal and non verbal. In a romantic relationship, sex is a big part of non verbal communication. You must be open to all forms of communication from your spouse. Do you make yourself available, Maggie?”

  I thought back to this morning when Neil wanted me to shower with him. “I try, but sometimes life gets in the way.”

  Dr. Bob slammed his pen down. “That is just an excuse and a pretty lousy one. Right up there with the classic “Not tonight dear, I have a headache.” He made his voice all breathy and effeminate which was hysterical. I laughed until I caught his scowl. Whoops.

  “Do not make the mistake of getting hung up on what’s normal, Maggie. While sex once a week is a rich bounty for some couples, others might go insane without for more than thirty-six hours.”

  For once I didn’t have a witty response on my lips. “Do you mean some couples or some men?”

  “Sex is an elemental need, like food or shelter. Think of it this way; if one well dries up, does a man just roll over and die? Or will he venture down a new path to find another well?”

  * * *

  Chapter Seven

  Was the entire world obsessed with sex? I wondered as I perused the homework assignment given to me by Dr. Bob. How was I supposed to accomplish that with Marty and his pregnant girlfriend in my bed, Josh locked in the bathroom for a healthy portion of the day and Neil at work to get away from the chaos. Not that I blamed him. I’d tried to reason with Dr. Bob, told him that a house full of relatives was not conducive to one orgasm—let alone the baker’s dozen called for on this piece of paper—but he’d hustled me out through the empty reception area.

  Maybe we should leave my brother in charge for a week and take this to-do list and hit the Caribbean. Yeah, no snow or torched birds, the idea held merit. Of course, Child Protective Services would be camped out on our doorstep within twenty-four hours and how would I concentrate with that mental picture? And concentration was essential, as well as some time and perhaps a few scented candles….

  Shoot, I really was an old fogy.

  Swathing myself in my scarf, hat, earmuffs, gloves and heavy parka, I‘d taken my first step toward my car when I remembered about Neil’s phone. Not wanting to bother Dr. Bob, I scoured the waiting room, but only the DSMV IV on the coffee table was smaller than a breadbox. Maybe he hadn’t left it here? On my hands and knees, I checked under the sofa and was about to conceded defeat when I heard the door creak open.

  “Mrs. Phillips?” The doctor’s tone was flat, no inflection whatsoever for the sight of my hind end in the air. I scrambled up, bashing my elbow on the table in my haste.

  “Sorry, I was just looking for Neil’s phone.” I rubbed my elbow and smiled sheepishly.

  “Your husband retrieved his phone yesterday afternoon,” He informed me. “He was quite relieved to have it back.”

  I’d started to nod, but stopped mid-motion and scowled. Neil hadn’t told me he’d come back here. And what was with the doctor’s word choice. Relieved? That seemed a bit over the top. He’d known he left his cell here, noticed it missing in the car on our way to the Valentinos, after my battery had crapped out.

  Why hadn’t he told me he’d picked it up? Neil told me everything, at least everything that wasn’t classified. Honesty was the cornerstone of our relationship. True, I hadn’t told him I was coming back here today, but that was different, dammit. And now Dr. Bob knew Neil had withheld information from me, no matter how insignificant.

  Mountai
n out of a mosquito bite. I told myself. It doesn’t mean anything. Hiding my real thoughts was a challenge, but I somehow blanked my expression. “Of course, it probably slipped his mind. Thanks again, I’ll see you next week.”

  I hustled out of there, not wanting his insight into the matter. Dr. Bob had done enough damage to my psyche for one day.

  So what if Neil had gone out of his way yesterday, before picking up the boys, to retrieve his phone? He wanted it back, just in case. In case of what? My inner

  skeptic surfaced and smirked at me. What call would have been so important that he refused to go one night without his phone? Anyone could reach him at the house, right?

  Unless anyone didn’t have the house number, because Neil didn’t want anyone talking to me? Maybe for the same reason Neil didn’t want me picking up his phone, having an opportunity to scroll through the incoming and outgoing calls—

  “Stop it!” I shrieked at my runaway thoughts, the sound doubly loud inside my tiny car. Damn Dr. Bob and his well metaphor and Eric and even Marty for cheating and watering this ugly seed of doubt.

  Needing to hear Neil’s voice, I plucked my cell phone out of my bag and hit speed dial number one. His phone must have been off because my call went straight to voicemail. I didn’t bother leaving a message, just hit speed dial number two, and waited while the line rang at his desk. Five rings later I was about to hang up when an unfamiliar male voice answered.

  “Um, hi, I’m looking for Neil Phillips?”

  “Sorry, lady, he ain’t in yet.” The guy who’d answered replied.

  My queasy stomach flipped over. My dashboard clock ready 11:08. Neil had left the house shortly after seven. “I thought he’d be at his desk, you know, trying to pick up some overtime?”