SHINY OBJECTS

When I was nine, I learned, finally! to ride a two-wheeler. I was the last one on the block to master this feat. Nobody’d heard of Sensory Processing Disorder. How was I supposed to know I couldn’t relate to the earth’s gravitational pull like other kids? Everyone, including me, just thought I was clumsy.

Plus, I was learning on my brother’s old bike. It was army green with a dented fender and a dumb white seat. Well, it started out white. By the time I got the dam thing, the seat was kind of brownish-gray like somebody (My brother, Joe) had farted on it too much.

Susan Saunders, two doors down, and two years older, got a new bike for her birthday. It was purple with a flower-printed banana seat, a basket, and a bell! Susan Saunders got everything. My brother, Joe said she was spoilt rotten. Well, he said that until she turned 12 and got boobs, then he just drooled when she stood near him at the bus stop.

I really loved that bike. I loved its shiny purple finish, which had sparkly stuff in it so it practically blinded you with its psychedelic brilliance. I loved the basket that Susan Saunders rode her new puppy around in. (Spoiled alert! She got a puppy, too!) I loved the banana seat that didn’t give you a front wedgie like mine did.

I coveted that bike! In church on Sunday, I prayed to God that my dad would get a better job so he could buy me one. I prayed Susan Saunders would break her leg. Then I prayed that God would forgive me for having vengeful thoughts. I wrote notes to Santa starting in May, hoping he got year-round mail. I watched the bratty Camillo kids every Friday afternoon for fifty cents an hour and put every dime in my savings account to earn interest.

All my praying and hard work got me nowhere. My dad still had his crumby job at Pepsi Cola. (At least he brought home rejects. Pepsi tasted good even if the label was crooked). Susan Saunders didn’t break her leg; she got those boobs instead. I realized Santa was a commie plot devised by parents to make their kids behave (although it didn’t work on those bratty Camillo kids).

By the next summer, I had given up on the bike and set my longing on Susan Saunders new platform boots. I also looked down at my flat front and prayed for boobs.

Every May Susan Saunders paraded her new birthday acquisition and every May I had something new to covet: Pierced ears, Gucci Purse, Atari 2600, and at 16, the topper—a shiny new blue Mustang. Finally, the Saunders moved away and my bitterness subsided.

I followed my brother Joe to Towson State. I studied Special Education and learned about Sensory Processing Disorder. No wonder I couldn’t eat oatmeal or broccoli or go down the slide!

My two best friends and I did crazy college stuff, like getting drunk and mooning people from Joe’s sunroof. That night Joe started dating my friend Marcy. He asked her out shortly after her moon was out the sunroof and her beaver was smiling down at him.

Joe, a senior, took me, Marcy and Carmen, sophomores, to a frat party. It was an Animal House kind of party with a keg of beer, make-out rooms, and a motorcycle parked in the living room.

Joe and Marcy were occupying one of the aforementioned rooms and Carmen and I were drinking beer and admiring the Motorcycle when the banister above us gave way causing a large inebriated boy to fall ass over teacups and land with his head neatly in my lap.

He looked up at me with unfocused, beautiful eyes and asked, “Am I dead?”

“No,” I stuttered, “I broke your fall.”

He shook his head, still in my lap, and his gaze cleared, “I must be dead, I’m looking at an angel!”

Carmen erupted in laughter, spraying us with a mouthful of beer, but I didn’t care because I had just fallen completely in love with a boy who fell from heaven.

Harvey was a Junior, an Engineering Major, a nerd like me. He was a big beefy slab of a guy, with no fashion sense and a round ‘average joe’ face, until he smiled. His smile reached all the way to his eyes and transformed him into handsome. My new mission in life was to keep him smiling.

May rolled around, and I did not think of Susan Saunders for one minute.

Harvey called on May 19th, “Tonight’s trivia question… Do you know what happens Saturday?”

“Of course. You told me 60 times! Return of the Jedi premiere!”

“Because you answered tonight’s question correctly, you win a prize! A ticket to attend with yours truly. But wait, there’s more!”

“I’m on the edge of my seat.”

“Popcorn! Smuggled in Schnapps! And… an after-event that will blow your mind!”

“Be still my heart! What is it, sex? I’ll bet it’s sex, you horn dog!”

“Hey, you can turn it down, Gutter Girl.”

“No way! I’m addicted to sex with you!”

The after-event did blow my mind…

An engagement ring was hidden at the bottom of the popcorn. Harvey made sure I didn’t find it until the credits rolled, he’s considerate that way. Then, he wedged his big body between the seats on one knee and proposed in front of the whole theater.

My answer was yes!

“Really, yes?”

The crowd applauded and threw popcorn.

I said, “Now kiss me you Horn Dog!”

We kissed beneath a shower of popcorn.

Harvey had a mid-level job at Westinghouse and when I graduated, I got a position at Jemicy School. Our first home was an apartment in an old house off Charles Street. It was a quaint, cozy newlywed nest. We started saving and house hunting. I had my heart set on a single-family home with a lush lawn, in Lutherville but Surprise! I got pregnant—with twins. (We named them Luke and Leah. I know, corny but cute.) I quit my job so we settled on a row house in Parkville. That year was exhausting, with a new house and two babies. Harvey kept plugging away at Westinghouse. Then I was pregnant again, with Hannah.

Three kids under three is something I wouldn’t wish on anyone, not even Susan Saunders. But we loved our babies and our house was cozy and chaotic.

Harvey’s hard work finally paid off with a promotion, so when baby Loraine came along, we could afford a bigger house, in Lutherville, a four-bedroom, two-bath split-level with a lush lawn. I loved it. I secretly coveted the six-bedroom colonial two doors down, with a two-car garage and in-ground pool, but it wasn’t in our budget.

Harvey was a wonderful father. He coached Luke’s little league and transported the girls to ballet and basketball. 

He was a caring husband but by Saturday Sex night he was usually asleep on the sofa before “Married… with Children” was over. He had grown himself a big old stress belly and didn’t smile nearly as much as he used to.

I admit I was no box of chocolates. After four kids, I could barely squeeze into a size 14… on a non-puffy day!

Gone were the days of sex marathons (Probably why we had twins). Our queen-size bed barely accommodated our chubbo bodies for sleeping, let alone for Kama Sutra sex. 

When I thought about us attempting a ‘Splitting the bamboo’, I wet my pants laughing. (Another hazard of giving birth)

I complained about the lack of romance. Harvey rolled his eyes and started snoring. The next day he brought me chocolates. Just what I needed, fat food! I handed them to our hungry herd.

One night, I put on my cleanest T-shirt, snuggled up and nibbled his neck.

He kissed my forehead, “You want sex? I’ll give you sex, Gutter Girl. Good fucking night! There, you’ve been fucked.”

I laughed so hard, I peed the bed.

Our sex life was reduced to saying “Good fucking morning!” when we passed in the hallway, our secret way of saying we still loved each other. 

With all four kids in school, I joined a gym. After I got the kids to school, I’d gather courage, squeeze into spandex shorts (my legs were still good at least), try not to look in the mirror at myself squeezing into spandex shorts, run 16 errands and hit the gym. I’d ride the stationary bike for 12 minutes while watching hunks pump iron, and have just enough time to do the weight circuit before the school bus came. Not a stellar workout, but I was committed.

After six months, my size 14s were loose! I squeezed into a size 12. Harvey, on the other hand, was getting larger.

An open house sign appeared in front of the house two doors down. I couldn’t resist a peek. Inside was more spectacular than outside! There was a sauna tub and a shower big enough to accommodate even our two fat bodies. The lower level had a built-in bar and fireplace, and the kitchen! — I coveted those shiny fingerprint-free surfaces.

It sold quickly and the street was abuzz when a moving truck pulled up followed by a sleek black Mercedes. The driver-side door opened. Adonis unfolded from within and stood, observing the kingdom. He was tall and dark, with a chiseled jaw and a GQ stance, and when he smiled, I swear a sparkle of light glinted off his teeth. He looked at me standing on my lawn, garden hose dangling from my hand, hair like Phyllis Diller and chin resting on my chest where it had dropped, and I felt faint.

The passenger door opened and a pair of legs swung languidly into view, followed by a size two body clad in Chanel and a perfectly coifed blond head. Susan Saunders.

I retreated into the house before she saw me.

I spent the next few weeks in a dither. Should I welcome her to the neighborhood? Would she remember me? What else will I covet?

In mid-May, the neighborhood was abuzz again, about a house-warming party.

I read our invitation. Then hit the gym, rode an hour and did three circuits. When I got home, I was still a size almost 12.

I fretted… What to wear? How to dress the kids? How to tell Harvey, sweetly but firmly, to stop wearing the Star Wars Tee with the hole in the armpit, in public?

 I scoured the stores for party clothes and hit the gym.

I brought home bags of try-ons. Harvey and Luke hated it; the girls loved it. I was more frantic with each trip.

Harvey said, “Honey, sweetie, chill out!”

When that didn’t work, he said, “Karen!” (He only calls me Karen when it’s serious) You’re making us crazy! She can’t be the monster you have in your head, and if she is, so what?”

“So what? So what, you say?” I was stymied! How to articulate a lifelong resentment, a brewing green jealousy in a shiny black pot?

“She always got everything! She has the perfect life!”

“And you don’t?” his shoulders slumped. He left me sitting in a pile of returns.

Party day was here. I spent the morning unknotting hair and cleaning ears, (Harvey’s included) bathing and brushing, tying and tucking. At 4:00, the motley crew was ready. The girls were adorable, in Lilly Pulitzer swimwear (from the sale rack at Growing Up Shoppe) and Luke looked cool in a Ralph Lauren golf shirt over his swimsuit. I even got Harvey to wear a Tommy Hilfiger shirt.

I wore a short sundress over a push-up bra (These had been working boobs) and Spanx. No friggin’ way I was wearing swimwear!

When we arrived, I made sure Susan saw my kids before they got covered in ketchup. She looked them over, cooed a little, and said to me, “You look familiar…”

“We lived on Southwick Drive together, two houses apart.”

Her cute nose scrunched, “Little Karen Marshall! Joey’s sister. You’ve grown up!”

I ignored the dig about my size, “Karen Harman now.” That reminded me I had a husband standing next to me, “This is Harvey. He’s an executive at Westinghouse.” I was tempted to say VP.

Susan held her hand out and Harvey shook it with his big bear mitt.

“A pleasure, I’m Susan Preston. My husband, Archer is at the bar.” She waved her hand toward Mr. Perfect, who was holding court with the lowly men of the neighborhood.

“Karen’s said lovely things about you, Susan,” He smiled up to his eyes, “Now about that bar… Karen, dear, shall we?”

Old Harvey knew I couldn’t stand there one more minute. He escorted me to the margaritas.

I mingled, keeping one eye on my crew and one on Susan Saunders Preston. She flitted about, like a butterfly, bestowing smiles, and patting little heads. (Those that weren’t pool-drenched)

Harvey stayed at the bar, and I prayed he didn’t get drunk. He’s a funny drunk, but I didn’t need his kind of humor tonight. I sidled over.

“Archie, pal, that’s amazing!” Harvey said and refilled his cup. Archer eyed him and refilled his, too.

“It’s Archer, Harv.”

Harvey turned to me, “Archie, here is telling me about his company. His grandfather started it in the 40s.”

“Yes, Grandfather Archer… I’m Archer the Third… was a shrewd businessman. Our gross income…”

Archer was interrupted by a wail coming from the pool. It was one of mine—go figure. Hannah wobbled up with her hands over her nose, blood seeping through her fingers.

“Aw, Hannah. Baby,” Harvey said and grabbed some bar napkins.

Archer stepped back.

Susan flitted over, a worried look on her unlined face, “What is it?”

“Hannah’s nose…”

At that moment, Hannah flung her hands toward me. Blood sprayed out onto Susan’s size two designer dress.

“OH!” she cried. Archer backed away more.

Harvey reached out with the napkins and began blotting Susan’s dress.

Hannah wailed louder.

Susan looked at Harvey’s bear mitts dabbing her body.

I grabbed my bloody kid and headed to the bathroom.

As we hurried by the pool, Luke did a cannonball and drenched me right down to my Spanx.

 I cleaned Hannah with dainty guest towels and led her into the hall where I stopped…

“What a mess!” It was Archer.

“It’s Ok, the dry cleaner…”

“This is why I don’t want kids, Susan.”

“Don’t say that, please…”

“What? I’m glad you can’t get pregnant. You want kids, I don’t.” Archer’s voice was harsh, “Children need discipline. You can’t even discipline yourself!”

Susan whimpered.

Hannah said, “I wanna go home!” I busied myself with finger-combing her hair as we moved, pretending not to notice them.

Archer had a grip on Susan’s arm.

Susan, saw us, “Is she ok?”

“Oh!” I attempted surprise, “She gets these… allergies… think I’ll take her home…”

Ashton was swaying. If he had been trying to keep up with Harvey at the bar, he was shit-faced.

Hannah was pulling on me.

“…lunch sometime.” Susan was talking.

Hannah was pulling. Aston was swaying and sneering.

“Mommy!”

 …hear about Joe…” Susan still talking. Ashton tightened his grip.

“Come on, Mommy!”

“Sure, I live two doors that way,” I pointed. I needed to get out of there.

I rounded up the other three and Harvey who was cannonballing to the delight of the neighborhood kids.

We got home, and I gave Hannah a bath. Harvey got the others into dry clothes and beds.

Harvey had a drink waiting for me in the kitchen, “Need this?”

I drank.

“He’s a pompous ass,” Harvey said, not angry just observing.

“He kind of is…” I drank some more, “She’s so fucking pretty.”

“So what?”

A huge chunk broke from that hard place inside me, and tears sprung up, “She had everything…” I sobbed, “Even Joe was googley over her.” I wiped my nose with the back of my hand and smeared snot across my cheek, “She never skinned her knees a million times learning to ride a bike! She never got laughed at for tripping on the stairs or crying in terror at the skating party. She never gagged on broccoli in front of the whole cafeteria…” I wiped again, “I Told that stupid teacher I couldn’t eat it! All those fuzzy things…”

Harvey took me in his bear-hug arms, kissed the top of my head and held me.

When my sobs subsided, he said, “Is Googlely even a word?” I looked up at him.

He was smiling up to his eyes, “You’re the one that’s so fucking pretty.” He kissed me like he meant it.

When we parted I asked, “Wait… Fucking pretty? Did we just have sex?”

He laughed, and said, “Not yet, but the night is young.” He lifted me off the floor like I was a size two and carried me up the stairs. Horn Dog was back.

Two days later, I stopped over to return a towel that Leah brought home. No answer, so I walked back across the lawn. Susan, wearing a large-brimmed hat was coming out the gate behind the house.

“Oh, hi. Is Hannah Ok? She is the prettiest…”

“She’s fine,” I waved dismissively.

“I meant to tell you. Your children are lovely. How lucky you are! I’ve always wished…” she trailed off, hiding behind her hat.

A horn sounded on the street. She flinched, looked up suddenly, fear on her face.

I finally found something she had that I didn’t want…

She was sporting a shiny black eye.

I held the towel out to her and when she took it, I touched her hand, “Happy Birthday, by the way.”

“How did you remember my birthday? That’s sweet.”

“Let’s do that lunch soon.”

“Yes, I could use a friend.”

I smiled, “Me, too.”

Then I walked back to my perfect life.