"Holy crap, honey," my husband had said, "You look beautiful."

            I was amused by his eloquence at the time.  The use of "crap" in a compliment is generally frowned upon, I would assume.  Imagine walking up to the Queen of England and saying, "Holy freaking crap your Majesty!  Your gown is stunning!" 

            I appreciated the compliment immensely, because it was real, it was genuine, and seeing as how I was moments away from walking out the door to a banquet full of the most un-genuine people known to mankind, I was hoarding every shred of realness I could nab with my freshly polished fingers.

            I spent the afternoon primping, styling, and coifing.  None of which were my forte exactly, but I was doing surprisingly well.  Armed with fashion magazines for inspiration, I hustled around my bathroom for hours in a flourish of curling irons, setting sprays, dusting powders, eye liners, and sticky lip goo.  After careful consideration, I had decided on wearing my hair up.  It seemed like the most appropriate and simple option, with the smallest possibility to screw it up royally.  Sure, it took my forty-five minutes to get it into place, but when I sprayed on the last layer of shellac to hold it into place, I must say I was pretty impressed with my hard work.  When doing my makeup, I made damn sure to avoid any of the techniques and products used by the crazy Face Butcher at the mall.  I decided on a shimmery charcoal for my eyes, and even though it was a huge undertaking, and not for the novice the magazines informed, I was set to pull off the elusive Smoky Eye.  It took me four tries, and I had to repeatedly wash my face to start from scratch, but I finally managed to make it work.  With a final touch of numerous swipes of black mascara, I was looking dare I say, sexy.

            Well, sexy enough to make my husband say "crap".

            I will also pretend that I didn't spend the day teetering around in the heels trying to manage to walk in them without looking like a four year old trying on her mommy's shoes.  High heel walking is a skill, and I will never again think otherwise.

            Walking down stairs after my marathon session of pretty-fying, I felt like I was going to the prom.  Except, instead of my parents armed with cameras, and a date hoping to score in the back of a limo, there sat my husband, in pajama pants and an old Nirvana t-shirt, armed with a cold beer and snacks to enjoy his night alone with the big screen.  I longed to see him dolled up in a tuxedo, to come with me and protect me from the villains that I was about to spend my evening with, but alas, he had been consistently ticket denied, which left me flying solo.  What I really wanted to do was peel off the dress, kick off the pumps, and curl up next to him with my own beer and a blanket.  Sigh.  But the fact remained that even though I hated a select few of the people I was being forced to interact with, the whole idea is to make a good showing and be involved in my children's schools.  I can either hide and avoid the hateful few, or I can charge on, and make sure that my children are getting everything that is available and help make choices for them.  Is a big responsibility, and although it feels like I have been thrust back into high school, dealing with the vile In Crowd, it makes me feel good to know that as selfish as I am, and boy has this summer given me a nice shot of my ME-ME-ME moments, I can still put it aside and do the right thing for Ollie and Abby.  They are worth every day of it.

            After a long, whiny kiss with Derek, proclaiming my desire to stay home with him, or to drag him with me, where he also announced that when I came home, he would be ripping that dress off me caveman style, I set off, in my Mommy Mobile, to the fancy banquet.  The plan was to arrive, and stay only long enough to eat the expensive food, being careful not to spill on my fancy dress, then receive the little plaque or whatever Natalie had arranged for all who participated in the summer activities, then bolt the hell outta there with minimal human interaction or humiliation.  Certainly a good plan.

            The banquet was held in the ballroom of a fabulous hotel right on the outside of town.  A place where the crème de la crème congregated for weddings, and fancy balls, and mitzvahs, both bat and bar.  Certainly no place that I had ever been invited to before.  I was greeted by valet parking, which was a first for me.  I was most afraid of proper etiquette of tipping, and what not.  I just prayed that I wouldn't lose my little slip so they wouldn't like refuse to give me my car.

            Walking into the hotel, there were impressively clad people everywhere.  It was strange, they were like doppelganger versions of the people I had come to know over the last few years through various school functions and birthday parties, these people usually adorned with suburban casual attire, now dressed all the way up to the nines.  It was extremely intimidating until I realized that right then and there, I looked just like they did. 

            Once I made my way to the middle of the lobby, I was fully immersed in the atmosphere.  The usually casual pleasantries that we would exchange on the soccer field, or the classroom were replaced with enthusiastic hellos and gushes about how wonderful I and everyone else looked.  Led into the ballroom with the masses, I was taken aback by how made up everything was.  Fancy place settings, mood lighting, a stage for the presentations, and a DJ playing some very mellow, and yet somehow trendy music.  Serious prom flash backs again. 

            We all had assigned tables, and I scurried my way over to mine with the intention of staying there all freaking night.  Each table sat six people, and at first, I was all alone at mine.  I saw all the individual place cards, sitting like little time bombs.  Who would be accompanying me?  Whose company would I have to suffer through?  I stared at them, willing them to turn around with my Jedi Mind Tricks so that I could read the names, but sadly, the force was apparently not with me.  I thought that if I were to actually stand up and turn them around to look, it would make me look rather sad.  So instead, I just sat there, tossing out the occasional "Hello!" or polite smile as people made their way into the ballroom and continued the mingling.

            The first people to join me at the table were the coach and assistant coach of the middle school soccer program, Robert Blackwell, and Tucker Davis, respectively.  Nice fellows, Robert, "Call me Bob!" he said was in his fifties, with hair that was decidedly more salt than pepper, with thin gold rimmed glasses that sat on a face that had seen its fair share of sun.  Tucker was a deceptively tall man, late thirties, so thin he looked completely breakable, like if a sparrow flew into him, it would break him in half. 

            We sat for a few moments, introducing ourselves, making small talk about our respective soccer programs, during which I for the most part just smiled and nodded as the truth is I know slightly more than nothing about soccer, even after a whole summer of camp.  Guess I should have been paying some sort of attention as opposed to thinking dirty thoughts about the coach, definite mental note for next year.  After a few moments, we were joined by two women that took their places on either side of the men.

            "Ellie," Bob spoke, his voice quite loud, but very pleasant, "I'd like you to meet my wife Maureen, and that there is Tucker's wife, Carly.  Ladies, this is the Assistant Coach of the Girls PeeWee Soccer Camp, Ellie Donahue."

            "Really nice to meet you both!" I smiled.  "Oh, but wait," I was confused, "You were able to get tickets for your wives?"

            "I guess so."  Bob responded, "They just sent me two."

            "Us too." Tucker chimed.  His voice was disproportionate to his height, but very soothing.

            "I mean, did they ask you if you needed two, or did they just send them?"

            "Just sent them." they replied in unison.

            What the hell?  Why couldn't I get one for Derek?

            "Well, hey there buddy!"  Bob's voice boomed, "You sitting with us?"

            I turned, following Bob's line of sight, and my stomach did that evil, little involuntary lurch that had grown accustomed to over the last few months.  There he was.  Patrick, looking striking in a tuxedo.  The kind with a regular tie, not the bow kind like most of the other men around.  No, he took it just that step further, just enough that it made him look all the more sexy, but as per usual, without actually having to try.

            One more night, I had been repeating in my head, a mantra to survive the party.  Just one more night and I never have to see him again.

            "Hi guys!"  Patrick's tone was most friendly, "How'd the summer treat you?"

            It's funny.  I expected that Patrick and I would be seated near each other, and yet, to see him actually pull out the chair beside me, and sit, mere inches away from me, it was jarring, feeling like a complete shock.  And when he adjusted his chair, bringing him right up to the table, there was the familiar cloud of cologne, exploding around me, sending my stomach flying once more, so harshly, that I took a drink of water to try and settle myself.

            Bob and Tucker began a mile a minute explanation of the last couple of months for Patrick's benefit, which eventually turned into the two of them, and their wives sharing inside jokes and other little anecdotes.  With the rest of the table involved, Patrick turned towards me, and spoke softly, "It's nice to see you tonight, Ellie."

            I couldn't think of anything resonant to say, so instead, I stared at my place card and nodded.  Inching ever so slightly closer, Patrick whispered to me, "You look incredibly sexy tonight, Ellie."

            "Stop it."  I hissed, and jumped up from me seat.  With no other options available to me, I set off towards the bar.  If a night ever called for a big fat glass of wine, this was the night.  I glanced back at the table, where the three coaches were deep in conversation with each other, and the wives amongst themselves, but even through the heavy dialogue, Patrick would routinely gaze in my direction, always landing solid eye contact, and always causing me to turn away and take a drink.

            The tables were rapidly filling up, the noise level rising with each body added.  I knew less than half of everyone there, most were associated with grade levels far higher than Abby or Oliver's classes, so for the most part I was surrounded by strangers, making things both less comfortable and somehow more comforting.  While I had no one to turn to leech off of for conversation for the night, there was also a room full of people that had no idea just what a train wreck I could be.  Intimidating, and refreshing.

            Time passed by rather quickly before a short, portly gentleman, who was announced as the head of the school district’s board of directors, named Wilson MacArthur, whose tux had a cummerbund, took the stage to welcome us to the Districts Annual Extracurricular Summer Activities Banquet.  A mouthful, indeed.  Applause, applause.  He rattled off stats of how it was the highest numbers ever for student participation.  Applause, woohoo.  None of it would have been possible without all our hard work and dedication.  Cheers, claps, yippee. 

            After a few jokes that either went over my head, or I wasn't paying enough attention to get them, Wilson announced that it was time for dinner to be served, and for everyone to take our seats.  Wisely, I refilled my wine before heading back to the table. 

            I avoided eye contact with Patrick, as it seems to always lead to trouble, and made my way to me seat.  Embarrassingly, he stood up and pulled out my chair for me.  I didn't want to make any sort of scene, so I just lightly smiled and accepted as he gently pushed my chair towards the table.

            "So Ellie, how did you enjoy your first summer coaching?" Bob inquired as the salads were handed out by impeccably dressed waiters.

            "Oh, it was definitely an experience."  I lightly chuckled.  I felt so fake, but was determined to be calm and composed.  "Although I don't think I really contributed that much actual coaching."

            "Oh, Ellie is just being modest."  Patrick grinned, "I couldn't have survived the summer without her."

            "Well, thank you."  I said quietly and took a sip of my wine.

            "We make an excellent team."  The return of the smirk.

            "So!"  I chimed far too excitedly, "Bob!  How long have you been coaching?"

            This set Bob, who I had gathered by then, was quit the boisterous, long winded fellow, off into a long incredibly detailed story, going back thirty years, and let me tell you he didn't miss one small nugget of history there.  I was grateful to be able to sit and feign interest, appearing as though I was deeply hung on his every word.  Bob rattled on, and I was really touched to see that his wife, who you could tell had heard the story dozens upon dozens of times before and yet despite that, she absorbed every syllable, as though it were the first telling of the epic tale.  It was really wonderful to see that.  As he spoke, he would reach over occasionally, and give her a loving pat on the hand, or if he was mentioning her, he would wrap his arm around her shoulder and give her a little squeeze. 

            Bob somehow managed to keep his memories going all the way through the salad and well into the entree.  I must say, that while the situation with Patrick was hideous, the rest of the company was surprisingly inviting, and the meal, well, it was the best damn salmon I have ever had in my life, that is for sure.  My enjoyment was peppered with the occasional infuriating brushes that Patrick's knee made against mine.  I would glance out of the corner of my eye, and see the smirk.  At first I just jerked my leg away quickly, but by the third time, I was getting pretty frustrated, so I laid off and kicked him as hard as I could under the table.  Not the most mature thing to do, sure, but the little yelp he let out on contact was enough to make it all worthwhile.

            Dessert was being served and I was starting to think that I was actually going to make it through the night in one piece when I saw Natalie making her way from table to table, saying hello to people as she went.  She looked amazing, as usual, in a long, tight in all the right places cream colored gown, with just a hint of sparkle that caught every light, in just the perfect way.  She really is quite beautiful, it's a damn shame she has to weigh down that vessel of hers with that hateful, snake like personality of hers.

            When she made her way to our table, avoiding me entirely and fawning all over the rest, I couldn't let the moment go without getting to the bottom of the lack of ticket for Derek.

            "Um, Natalie?" I asked, "I was just wondering why I wasn't offered a ticket for my husband?"  It was pleasing to say this in front of Patrick, it read across his face that he was not thrilled by my continual campaign for Derek.           

            "What do you mean Ellie?"  Her voice always has that obnoxious cooing tone to it.

            "I mean that, everyone else seemed to get a ticket for their spouse, but you told me I couldn't get one for Derek."

            "Well, Ellie, you silly thing!"  In my mind, I was punching her in the eye, "Of course you were!  You only asked for one ticket!"  A trilling laugh, "Well, I hope you all enjoy the evening!" She started to walk away.

            "Uh, yeah, no you didn't." I stood up and followed closely behind her, "I asked repeatedly, and you said there were no spare tickets."

            "Well, Eleanor, I am sorry if you didn't understand what I said, but I am sure I was quite clear about the availability." 

            "Okay, seriously." I snapped, "What the hell is your problem?"  I was quiet so as to not cause a scene, but I was very perturbed to say the least, "First of all, dial down the snooty attitude, and stop calling me Eleanor.  Second, what could possibly make you so petty as to not let me bring my husband?  Honestly, this is so far beyond ridiculous."

            Her face melted into a subdued anger.  Although right behind her eyes, I saw weakness, I saw that she wanted to scream, she was about to lose her cool demeanor, but for the life of me I couldn't figure out what it was about. 

            "You'll need to take your seat now."  She coolly said.

            "Whatever, Natalie."  I shook my head and muttered.

            I headed back to my seat, and plopped down, reaching for my wine.  If you can't beat 'em, by God, out drink 'em, I always say.

            Natalie quickly smoothed all of her feathers back down, and neatly into place as she took to the stage to begin the handing out of the acknowledgments.  She rang through a small speech, thanking us all for coming, talking about what an honor it was for her to be presenting to us all, and yada, yada, yada.  I will admit, I am not proud of it, but the fact was that I was making minute mocking faces as she spoke.  Pretty sure no one saw me, but I found it satisfying.

            I was actually thrilled to death that she started with the youngest grades first.  To me, it was a welcomed bright spot on the evening that meant that not only did I not have to sit through two hours of Natalie droning on and acting the part of normal, human, nice person to the two hundred people around me, but it also meant that my part would be done straight away, and then I could sneak right the hell out early, and race home to join Derek on that couch.  Was really looking forward to the dress ripping. 

            She announced and handed out the plaques to the coaches and helpers for baseball, softball, and tennis.  Do six year olds play tennis?  I kept thinking how my high school didn't even have a tennis court.  I couldn't even imagine how long the night would carry one after I left.  This thing was going to put the Oscars to shame for insane time lengths, I was certain.

            When she called out the category of PeeWee Soccer Camp, I sat up in my seat, prepared to run up there, smile pretty beside Patrick, and once off the stage, hit a dead run to the valet, the ticket for my car stored securely in my bra. 

            She gave a little intro to the program, and how all the girls had enjoyed themselves, a few pictures flashed up on the screen behind her of our time on the field, and she announced, "I would like to invite the Patrick Dixon up to accept our thanks for his hard work!"

            Hmm.  For the other sports, she had named everyone together.  It seemed odd that she would name me separately. 

            Patrick, stood up, and looked at me confusedly, before turning and heading up to the stage.  As soon as he got there, Natalie launched right into presenting him with his plaque and thanking him for his incredible dedication to the girls.  Then it hit me, that evil whore had drug me there, and was going to ignore me.  Ooh, slick.  Villainous.  Freaking bitchy as hell.  I was infuriated, but it passed enough that I was able to realize that now I was able to escape all the faster!  Of course, I was seething about the fact that I had abandoned Derek for the night, and also that I had spent a considerable amount of time, energy, and not to mention money putting together a look for the damn thing.  Neither here nor there by that point, I was already gathering my things off the table to go.

            "Now wait a minute!"  A voice near me exploded, "I think you forgot someone here!"

            Oh, Bob, say it ain't so...

            "Oh, really, Bob, don't worry about it!"  I whispered and began to slink away.

            "Don't be silly!"  He roared with a laugh.  Man, his voice could fucking carry.  "Get on up there!"  He stood up and pointed me to the stage.  Dear God, everyone was looking at me.  Patrick stood beside Natalie onstage, a little half smirk on his face, amused by my situation.  "Go on, Ellie!"

            "Gee, Bob, thanks!"  I nervously laughed, and made my way towards the stage.  I may have Bob killed.

            "Oh, well."  Natalie smiled, "Will you look at that!  I just completely missed your name on here, Ellie!"  Her laugh into the microphone, resonated throughout the ballroom.  Wonderful acoustics, let me tell you.  "Isn't that just the darndest thing how these things happen!"  A chuckle from the crowd.  If they only knew.

            I took my place onstage, and was handed a plaque identical to Patrick's.  Funny how the evil wench forgot my name when she not only had it written in front of her, but also had a friggin' plaque with it on there too.

            I stood there for a moment, Natalie congratulated and thanked us, and together, Patrick and I smiled and gave little waves. 

            For that one minute up there, I had withstood all this crap?  My brain was already thinking all the things I could make by melting down the damn plaque.  A nice bracelet perhaps?

            He and I ushered ourselves off the stage, and I held to my word, and made a beeline for the door, staying close to the wall, shrouded in darkness so as to not draw any more attention than necessary. 

            Once out of the banquet hall, into the now silent and still lobby of the hotel, I paused and took a deep breath, congratulating myself on my survival.  I should have saved my personal accolades until I had reached the car.  I heard the footsteps behind me, and I was a second to late in realizing who it was, otherwise I would have taken off running.

            "Ellie, wait!" 

            "Oh my God, Patrick," I hissed, "What could you possibly want!?"

            "I just want to talk to you!"  He smiled. 

            "Forget it."  I was short, and I was turning to leave.  "Goodnight, Patrick."

            I was already a few steps away when I felt him grab my arm, dragging me out of the lobby, and through a door that led to the hotel's various rooms.  The hallway was dark, it being late, people were wisely turned down for the night.  I very much wished to be doing the same at home.

            "I wanted to see how you were." he whispered, "Things were so crazy at your house the other day, I wanted to make sure you were alright."

            "Do you realize that you are the reason that things wouldn't be alright!"  I shook his hand off my arm.  "How does that escape you?"

            "It kills me that you keep acting like you weren't right there with me all summer, Ellie." he chuckled.  The sound was rage inducing.  "It's not like I kidnapped you and made you come to my apartment.  I didn't hold a gun to your head and make you do any of it.  You were there because you wanted to be, because you have the same feelings for me, that I have for you."

            "No, what I had was a momentary lapse in sanity." I bit back, "What I have is a husband who loves me, and a family, and a life that you do not in any way belong in."

            He took his arms and tried to wrap them around me, pulling me into him and said, "It would be a lot more convincing when you say that, if you weren't shaking."

            "Enough!" I shouted, my volume startled us both, and I used both of my hands to push him and wiggle away from him.  I walked to the door that led back to the lobby, and as I pushed it open, I stopped and turned towards him, and put the final nail in our bizarre coffin, "I don't ever want to see you again, Patrick.  Get that through your head, right now.  Not a glimpse.  Not a phone call.  Not even a Christmas card.  Do you understand that?"  And as I walked away and let the door close behind me, "Have a grand fucking life, Patrick."

 

 

 

 

 

            I hit the valet, bouncing nervously up and down, and promised the guy an extra twenty bucks if he would hurry the frick up.  Bless him for doing as he was asked.  I sped home, and took numerous deep breaths, but for the first time, instead of being a nervous wreck, I was positively giddy.  Beyond all sense of reason, I was ecstatic at my new found freedom.  It was all over, and I was heading back to my zippy little life, free of the giant pile of dog crap that was this summer.  I had never felt so secure, so confident, and so excited to be back home with Derek.  This whole mess, him with Veigh, myself with Patrick, had been the most insane fiasco I had ever known, but in the interest of finding the silver lining, I can't deny that it has given a huge shot of renewal into our relationship with each other. 

            Even more exciting was that I was going home to a childless house, in a saucy dress, to a man who was all ready to do some fabric ripping!

            I raced home, admittedly ignoring the majority of the posted speed limit signs, but being grown up enough to respect the traffic lights, and was barely able to control myself as I pulled into my driveway.  I wasn't even that annoyed when I saw that one of our neighbors had parked a car in front of our house again.  Tomorrow I would be annoyed, but for that moment, I was a ball of "Yippee!" that could not be stopped.

            I burst in through the front door, tossing my purse, and that godforsaken plaque off by the children's small pile of shoes, and bounded through the foyer, into the living room where I stopped short, upon finding a strange person in my house.

            "Oh!"  I laughed, "Gosh, I am sorry, I didn't know Derek had company!"

            I stood, a giant smile plastered on my face.  My boisterous mood had made me slightly oblivious to the fact that I was standing around some pretty tense people.  Derek was standing to my left, still in his jammy pants and t-shirt had a look of sheer horror on his face, his chest was rising and falling rapidly.  To my right was a woman, a very tall woman, dressed in a very chic black slim cut pants, and a white button up shirt that was only buttoned about halfway up, revealing to me, and well, anyone with eyes that she not only had fabulous breasts, but that she didn't need a bra to make them appear as such.  Her mood was serious, but her face was almost challenging to me.  The jolly running through me was retarding my absorption of the scenario that I had stumbled into.

            "You're home early."  Were the first words out of my husband's mouth. 

            "I snuck out early, they did our group first."  I said, my smile still present, but fading as the atmosphere around me took hold.  "What's going on?  Is everything okay?"

            There was silence.  My happy was ripped out of me, and I was stuck, my eyes darting from one of them to the other, trying to assess what I had walked into.  Derek was staring at me, his face begging me for eye contact.  She was very clearly looking me up and down before resting her eyes on him.  And that was all it took.  It all hit me, the air rushing from my lungs, sucked out by the vacuum of hell that I was standing in.

            "Oh my God."  I half whimpered.  "It's not, you have, oh my God."

            "Ellie, wait, it's not what it looks like."  Derek jumped at me, "I know people say that, but I swear!"

            I moved back away from him, staring at the floor, unable to look at either of them.  "It's her isn't it?"  I yelled, "She's Veigh, isn't she!"

            Clearly satisfied by her name having been brought up before, Veigh walked over to the easy chair, and sat down.  It was an act of gall that shocked me enough that tears burnt my eyes instantly.

            "Honey, I swear," Derek pleaded.

            "Oh Jesus."  I cried, backing further away, waving my arms in front of me, as if to wave away the horror movie playing our before my eyes. "No, just, no."

            "Ellie, please, listen to me!"  His eyes were desperate, wide, begging. 

            I stopped, mouth agape, and stared between the two of them.  It was impossible, it was humiliating.  It was the most heart breaking moment I had ever been witness to, even more so with it being my heart that was breaking.

            Derek took another step towards me, but I put a hand up to stop him.  "Don't you come anywhere near me."  My voice came out in a low, controlled, growl, "I can't believe you.  I can't believe you lied to me, and tried to pretend that you were different."

            "Ellie, God, you have to listen!"  His eyes filled with his own tears.

            "Shut up."  I spoke, with a voice calmer than was humanly possible considering the circumstances.  "Just shut up."  I turned from the painful scene and walked back to the door, grabbing my purse off the floor, from the pile of shoes.  I opened the door, turning back to meet his broken stare.  "In our house.  I can't believe-” I shook my head gently, "Fuck you, Derek."

            I walked out and ran to my car, and was in and squealing my tires out of the driveway, even as he was running through the yard, screaming my name.

            I drove, faster than I had before, tears pouring freely, my sobs shaking the entire car.  I was broken, I was hurting, and I was lost.  I needed to not be driving, and yet I knew where I needed to go.

            At break neck speed, I raced across town, past the familiar sites, past the buildings I had driven by so many times before, and pulled into the same familiar place.  I jumped out of the car, barely pausing enough to close it behind me, and walked quickly, with purpose to my destination.  Taking a deep, shuddering breath, I knocked on the door in front of me.

            When it opened, I was met with a concerned stare.

            "Can I come in, please?"  I shivered, despite the night's warm temperature.

            "Of course."  Was the comforting reply.

            And by taking my hand and guiding me inside, Patrick led me into his apartment.