The Do-Over(11)

Laughing, “Relax Tara, I’m not going to mortally wound her or that idiot ex will be back here in a heartbeat crying on your shoulder and wanting you to make him feel better.” With an evil grin, Laynie stuck the pin into the front edge of the baby doll’s left foot.

“Ouch,” I winced. “I think she just fell off her four-inch wedge boots.” Shaking my head, I laughed and said, “And you called me a sicko.”

“So, who’s the third doll?” She picked up the female doll with the dark hair.

“I don’t know yet.” I shrugged my shoulders. “You’re lucky your hair is red.” She sneered at me. “Okay, back to packing. Movers will be here in a week. And if you think this is bad, wait until you see my bedroom. I swear I still have that outfit in my closet that I wore to the Green Day concert at the Garden.”

Laynie “I travel light” Caldwell looked at me with pure disgust. “That was 1994, Tara.” I swear I could smell the acrid taste in her mouth as she verbalized that. “If I find that in your closet, I’m taking it out to the backyard and burning it.”

And she did.



“Hi Mom.” Scarlett bounded into the house. “Wow, you and Aunt Laynie got a lot done today.” She looked at the boxes lining the dining room wall.

“No teenage distractions,” I kidded my way-too-wise for her years fourteen-year-old. “Where’s your father?” My ex, Frank, usually came in so we could at least discuss Scarlett’s schedule.

“Oh, he wants you to come out to the car.” She was already checking her phone for messages that might have arrived in the last nanosecond while she walked from the car to the house.

“He wants me to go out there?” I asked questioningly.

“Yeah, Crystal hurt her foot and he didn’t want to leave her alone in the car.” She didn’t look up from her phone.

“Afraid she might get kidnapped,” I muttered, the emphasis on the kid in kidnapped.

Walking out to the curb, the darkened front passenger window of Frank’s S500e Mercedes slowly rolled down.

“You were hurt?” I asked his twenty-five-and-a-half-year old wife. Yes, she was still counting the halves that those of us out of our twenties strive to consciously forget. “What happened?”

“My foot just slipped out from under me and I stubbed my big toe. It was bleeding and everything.” CB’s dramatic delivery was almost cute. Almost. But I was too freaked out to enjoy it, thinking about Laynie stabbing the baby poppet’s foot.

We’d been called bitches before, but witches would be a new one.

“Frank, don’t forget you have the father/daughter dance at her school on June 16th,” I reminded him yet again. I didn’t feel like I could remind him enough after he blew her off on the father/daughter holiday dance, ending up with CB in Aspen and an “Oh sweetie, I totally forgot. I’ll make it up to you” excuse.

We were still waiting for that make-it-up-to-you and although she tried to act like it was ‘no big deal’, I could tell that Scarlett was already preparing herself for the disappointment of Frank standing her up on an event that was still months away.

“Geez Tara, that’s months and months away. Are you going to bring it up every single time I see you?” He had the nerve to act annoyed.

“Yes, Frank. Every single time. So, get used to it.” Smiling I turned to CB, my curiosity had gotten the best of me, “So Crystal, what kind of shoes were you wearing when you stubbed your toe?”

“My new wedge boots, the ones with the open toes.”

Oh my God. I hoped she hadn’t heard my gasp. We really couldn’t have done that, could we? Not for real, right?

Yes, witches we were.





Chapter 5


At home in my new living room, even more so than I was, Laynie stretched out her long legs on the new chaise couch and took a sip of her rosé. “Are you ever going to start dating again?”

“I haven’t really thought much about it,” I lied. Actually, I thought about it every night when I went to bed, alone.

“Well, you should start. You are through with the move. Unpacked. There’s no big stress things looming before you to stop you.”

“Come on, Laynie, you, of all people, know how much I hated it and how bad I was at it in my twenties.” I shuddered remembering how shy I was with guys I was attracted to. I was terrible at flirting. And if a guy I was attracted to flirted with me, I would totally clam up. “I can’t even imagine it now. The available pool is smaller and sure to be even creepier.”

For fifteen years, Laynie had been involved with Nils, a man twenty years older than her who lived in San Francisco. They saw one another twice a month, like clockwork, and it worked for them. Skype was their friend. “It’s like he’s here, except I don’t have to clean up after him. There’s no pee on the bathroom floor, the toilet seat is never up and he doesn’t make me go to sushi restaurants I hate, three nights a week.” She referenced my ex-Frank’s near obsession with being seen at trendy sushi joints. “Tara, it’s time. You’re still young and really attractive. The younger ones are going to love you.”

I had to laugh, “Yeah, that’s good because the ones my age want trophy wives.”