Jilliane Hoffman - All the Little Pieces

She reached over and slammed the glove compartment shut. No matter how much she needed an old friend right now, she couldn’t go there. Not with Maggie in the car. Nope. Jarrod, Faith’s husband, had no idea she was still trying to quit, and Maggie could never know she ever smoked. She’d be nominated for Bad Mother of the Year if she lit up with her young daughter’s clean lungs two feet away. She anxiously nibbled on a cuticle instead.

The rain started to come down harder and Faith slowed to twenty. She looked at the clock. In six minutes, Charity would be turning the big 3-0. What was she doing at this very moment to celebrate? Was she passed out on the couch? Were Nick’s stupid friends still over? Was she having wild birthday sex? That thought made her want to gag. Was she even the least bit upset over how Faith had left?

Originally, the plan had been for Faith to take Charity and her three kids – eleven-year-old Kamilla, five-year-old Kourtney and two-year-old Kaelyn – up to Disney next weekend, along with Maggie, to celebrate Charity’s thirtieth. No husbands – just the six girls and Mickey Mouse living it up in the land where everyone’s always happy. Faith had booked two rooms at the Walt Disney World Dolphin Resort well in advance. Ironically, the reservation had to be cancelled by midnight tomorrow – the last minute of Charity’s actual birthday – or Faith would have to forfeit her deposit. Of course she’d have to cancel, she thought as she wiped away more tears. There was no way things would be right between them by Friday. They might never be right again.

After ten years of marriage, maybe Nick had wanted to finally show that he cared. Maybe he’d wanted to one-up Faith’s Disney trip. Or maybe throwing Charity a party was simply a good excuse for him to have a good time with his friends since Charity didn’t have many that he hadn’t slept with. Whatever his reasoning, Nick ‘Big Mitts’ Lavecki, the man who had forgotten his wife’s birthday more often than he had remembered it, had decided to throw Charity a last-minute surprise party. Last minute, as in he’d told Faith about it this morning.

‘Tonight, Nick?’ Faith had looked at the clock above the fireplace in her family room, which was in Parkland, a good two hundred miles from where her sister lived in Sebring. It was ten thirty on Sunday morning.

‘Nothing fancy. A bunch of friends, ya know, some beer, food from Costco, like those platters of wieners and chicken nuggets, that sort of crap, and ya know, a cake. I’m gonna get that at Costco, too. A chocolate cake. They can write “Happy Birthday Ya Old Bag” on it.’ He laughed. ‘Maybe they can put, like, a wheelchair decoration on the frosting or something.’

Faith cringed. ‘Really, Nick?’

‘No! I’m only fucking with you, Faithey. But I am taking the kids so they can pick out black balloons and Over the Hill plates.’ He laughed again. ‘Char will get a kick out of that.’

Faith had looked out her kitchen window at the toppled lawn umbrella and the chaise longue cushion that had blown into the pool that was close to overflowing. Jarrod had cocked his head at her from across the table and mouthed What? She shook her head at him. ‘The weather’s pretty nasty, Nick.’

‘It’s not so bad up here. Everyone says they’re coming anyway.’

‘Everyone? How many people?’

‘I dunno, about thirty or forty.’

‘Wow. When did you plan this?’

‘I dunno. A week or so ago.’

‘Thanks for the notice.’

‘Yeah, I thought I told ya. I get it if you can’t make it. We live so far away. What’s Jar call it up here? Bumfuck?’

Three years later and Big Mitts was still holding onto the comment he wasn’t supposed to have heard. ‘He was kidding, Nick.’

‘Yeah, I know. I’m only busting chops, Faithey. Look, I get it if you can’t make it. The weather sucks and it’s a long drive. No big deal. Char will understand.’

Of course Nick would understand if Faith didn’t make it, because he didn’t want her to make it. The kids had probably been bugging him all morning, asking if Aunt Faith and Uncle Jarrod and Maggie were coming to Mommy’s party. That’s likely what had prompted the phone call. That and Charity would be livid if she found out her only sister – her only sibling – wasn’t invited to her birthday party.

‘I’ll be there,’ Faith had said.

What? Jarrod had mouthed again.

‘Great,’ Nick had unenthusiastically replied.

‘Save the couch for me. I’ll drive home in the morning.’

‘You might be sharing it with a new friend, Faithey.’ She hated when he called her that. Absolutely hated it. It was Charity’s pet name for her since they were kids, but when Nick said it, it felt like he was mocking her. ‘I think T-Bone’s already called it,’ he added with a chuckle that she knew was accompanied by a smirk.

Most of Nick’s friends had nicknames, too: T-Bone, Skinny, Slick, Gator. But they weren’t gang members or cops or Mafioso – they were just grown men with nicknames.

‘Tell T-Bone he can sleep in his car; I’m calling the couch,’ Faith replied coolly.

‘Daddy, tell Aunt Faif to bring Maggie!’ said a little voice with a lisp in the background.

‘Well, if you’re coming, bring Maggie,’ Nick had said. ‘The kids’ll all be upstairs, locked in. We won’t let ’em come down for the stripper. Promise.’

‘You’re kidding, right?’

‘Yes, I’m kidding. I’m not getting my wife a stripper. At least, not one she’d be interested in watching, although that’s a fun idea and it would make her a real fun wife if she was into it. I’ll get the kids pizza. And, ah, Jarrod too,’ he’d added hesitantly. ‘I, ah, hope he can make it.’

Jarrod had stopped mouthing What? because he had figured out what What? was and he wanted no part of Nick’s couch. He slumped down in his seat and hid behind the paper, like a kid in class who doesn’t want to be called on.

‘Have you looked out a window?’ Jarrod had asked as Faith was buckling Maggie into her car seat a couple of hours later. She clutched Eeyore in one hand and a pouch of fruit juice in the other.

‘It’s her birthday, Jarrod. You know what she’s going through. All his friends are gonna be there – probably only his friends. Knowing Nick, he’ll invite the next mistress. It’s only rain; I’ll be fine.’

‘Since you must’ve missed it on the news, I’ll be the one to tell you that there’s a tropical storm happening. That’s the first thing. Second, these are not normal people, Faith. This is not gonna be a normal party.’

Jarrod was not a fan of either Nick or Charity’s. Faith’s sister and her husband ran in completely different social circles: Jarrod was a former criminal defense lawyer and Nick was a scheming petty criminal. His trade was fixing transmissions, but he was always looking for a way to beat the system, score unemployment, cheat the IRS. Aside from the weather and the Dolphins, there wasn’t much for the two of them to talk about when they did get together, unless Nick wanted to put Jarrod on retainer. Charity wasn’t like that necessarily, but having Kammy so young and marrying Nick had made her completely dependent on him and it had changed her. That’s the Charity Jarrod saw.

‘You’re being dramatic,’ she’d said.

‘Drama is your sister’s middle name. Wait till she finds Nick in the bathroom banging another one of her girlfriends – you’ll see some drama.’

‘Jarrod …’ she’d scolded, nodding at Maggie, who’d sat quietly watching both of them, the blonde pigtails on the top of her head flopping about as she followed the conversation.

‘Better hide the cutlery,’ he’d added.