Mulligans

11. She Smells Nice Too

Stacey stood at the counter slicing pears, peaches, and strawberries with rapid precision. After finishing the last of the fruit, she scooped it into separate serving bowls and placed them on the breakfast table. The Belgian waffles were grilled and staying warm in the oven, and the only item left to prepare was the whipped cream. She pulled out a large mixing bowl, poured in the cream, and flipped on her electric mixer.

Thankfully the buzz from the mixer helped to drown out the mental argument she'd been having with Nathan all morning. She knew it was ridiculous, this imaginary dialogue with her husband where she was able to disclose what she was really feeling and he was forced to listen. She also imagined all his excuses and accusations, which only further raised her blood pressure. But as always her kitchen provided a sanctuary, a place where she could begin the ritual of preparing food for her family, and soon the stress would float away as she immersed herself in new recipes.

Unfortunately, this morning's menu didn't require a lot of concentration, as she knew it by heart and could have just as easily prepared it in her sleep. And so Stacey was finding it more difficult than usual to construct her Fucking Happy Face and keep it from slipping out of place. The FHF was the most valuable tool in her Superhero Mom tool kit, and when constructed properly it was impenetrable and the best diversion for not only her own family but the world at large.

Stacey flicked off the electric mixer. The cream had stiffened into little white peaks. She pulled a spatula from her utensil rack and flipped the fluffy white topping out into a proper serving bowl. She grabbed the counter in front of her as if for stability and strategically widened her eyes and lifted the corners of her perfect pink mouth up toward her ears before calling her family. "Breakfast!"

Birdy arrived with Tyler and Chase, and they assembled at the table. Stacey glided around and served orange juice. "Birdy, where's your dad?"

Birdy shrugged as she reached for a waffle and began dressing it with fruit. "Maybe he's running."

"Is he still doing that?" Tyler asked.

"Every day," Nathan answered, walking through the door, his T-shirt drenched in sweat. "Do something for twenty-one days and it becomes a habit."

"Well, wake me and Chase up tomorrow and we'll go with you."

Nathan headed toward the bedroom. "You guys couldn't keep up with me!"

"Yeah, right! Watch yourself, old-timer. You could accidentally trip out there," Tyler threatened.

"You know, a little endurance might help your golf game," Chase suggested wryly.

"You know, a little duct tape might make you shut up," Tyler answered, slapping Chase on the back of the head playfully. "And you're not allowed to coach me until you sink a few balls yourself, Chastity."

Stacey interrupted by stepping between the boys and offering fresh coffee. "Are you looking forward to working at the course, boys? Will it be challenging?"

"We're painting a fence, Mom. Not exactly putting our college education to use."

Stacey slammed down the pot of coffee between the boys. "I'm just trying to show interest and talk about something other than golf. There are other people at this table. Maybe you'd like to know what Birdy has planned for the day."

Tyler and Birdy exchanged bewildered glances at their mother's unusual terseness. Noticing Chase's shoulders had risen up toward his ears, Stacey quickly composed herself and fastened her FHF back in place. "Would anyone like some more waffles?" she asked with a smile.

Birdy looked at her mother incredulously. "We haven't even started yet."

"Well, we'd best get started, then, shouldn't we?" Stacey asked, taking her seat as Nathan arrived at the breakfast table in a clean, dry shirt.

"Your mother is right," Nathan commented, motioning for Tyler to pass him the coffee carafe. "It's polite to show interest. Otherwise we can seem cold or frigid."

Stacey flicked her linen napkin in the air and placed it on her lap. "Sometimes that's what people do when the actions of others seem erratic or unusual."

"It's difficult for a person to attempt spontaneity if they are greeted with ridicule," Nathan lectured, swirling sugar into his coffee and tapping the spoon on the edge of his cup.

"If you don't tend your chickens, they'll never produce a golden egg," Stacey said, stabbing a strawberry with her fork.

Tyler looked from his mother to his father, faced off at either head of the table. "Okay, okay. I get it. Show a little interest. Birdy, what do you have planned for the day?"

Birdy adopted the sarcastic tone of her parents as she poured syrup onto her mountainous morning creation. "Mom doesn't like that I saw a penis, so I'm going to start playing tennis."

"That sounds great, Birdy," Tyler said, stifling a laugh. "Great waffles, Mom, really great."

Stacey sat in the courtside bleachers flipping through a magazine another parent had no doubt left behind. It was one of those celebrity-obsessed rags, and even though she dismissed it as drivel, she did shamefully find herself reading several articles with interest during Birdy's tennis lesson. Why was it that people were so preoccupied with the lives of others? She couldn't imagine what it would be like to have a life where all the world was truly a stage. And to have every makeup, breakup, possible pregnancy, and career up and down telegraphed on magazine stands across the nation. No, she preferred a quiet life without airing dirty laundry. She'd had her fair share of drama as a pregnant teenager. Surely that had provided enough trauma and back-fence talk for one lifetime.

Stacey set down the magazine and saw that Birdy was just finishing up with her tennis coach. They were holding the racquet together and practicing a swing. Birdy looked so adorable, dressed in a cute white skirt and matching polo, her hair pulled back in a ponytail. This was going to prove a much better option than those swimming lessons with the instructor who was obviously just there to collect a paycheck. He couldn't even be bothered to account for the kids in his class. Birdy's tennis coach was a confident and pretty teenage girl, someone for her daughter to look up to. Birdy came running over to Stacey, twirling the tennis racquet in her hands.

"Did you have fun?" Stacey asked, bending to retie her daughter's shoe.

"Yeah, Jenna is really cool."

"Good. I'm sure she'll be a positive influence for you," Stacey said confidently as she stood, noticing her daughter had her head still turned over her shoulder, watching Jenna as she changed her shoes courtside. Jenna looked up and waved.

"Yeah, she smells nice too," Birdy said, waving back enthusiastically.

"Well, we'd best hurry along. We need to get supplies for your burger night," Stacey said, taking Birdy by the hand.

"I don't want a burger," Birdy stated, her mind obviously made up. "Jenna is a vegetarian. She says eating animals is totally gross."

"Did she? That Jenna is quite the gal." Stacey quickened her step. She paid the girl for tennis lessons, not for sharing her philosophy on nutrition with her daughter.