‘ Yes. Most people do outings once a week. Or every other week.’
‘ Weekly,’ I said, amazed that that was all they were asking. Why hadn’ t I thought to do this before? Why didn’ t more people? ‘ Definitely weekly.’ Excitedly, I added, ‘ It’ ll be so fun! Taking a girl shopping for cute little outfits, and-’
‘ We frown on shopping sprees,’ Rose chided. ‘ It’ s not to spoil them so much as to be a positive influence. We suggest sporting events or going to the beach or museums. Even cooking together can be lots of fun and very rewarding for both of you.’
‘ Of course,’ I said, reddening.
Now I knew why more people didn’ t do this. It sucks enough to not get a job you want-it’ s downright humiliating to be rejected for a volunteer position. How big a loser would you have to be for that? I didn’ t care to find out. There was a matter of a July 12 deadline, and if I didn’ t get a Little Sister, odds were I wouldn’ t encounter any more billboards providing instructions on what to do from there.
Rose must have sensed my worry, because she said, ‘ A little shopping is fine.’
She went on to explain that they’ d need to follow up on my references and do a background check, which typically took a few days. ‘ If it pans out, hopefully we’ ll have a match for you soon,’ she said, packing up my file. ‘ Anything you want to add before I let you go?’
I thought about the five months remaining before my deadline. It didn’ t seem like much time to change a life, but it was all I had. ‘ Only that I’ m eager to get started,’ I said heartily.
FEBRUARY 14. Valentine’ s Day. The day started on a sour note by being Valentine’ s Day. It then went from bad to worse before I even changed out of my pajamas. I’ d stepped on the scale to discover that I’ d gained five pounds. I didn’ t need Linda and her spreadsheet-making abilities to know that that constituted half of my total weight loss regained-and that every one of those pounds had gone straight to my ass.
No chocolates for me, I realized, sighing. No nibbling at the heart-shaped cookies people would bring into the office. No celebrating the holiday in the way I’ d come to know it: as an excuse to consume mass quantities of sugar with joyous abandon. Not after seeing how much I weighed.
Then again&
I leaned over to pick up the scale. Then I placed it directly into the trash.
#17: Throw away my bathroom scale.
That Marissa was a genius, I thought as I scrambled an egg for breakfast-compensation for the damage I’ d be doing later to my blood sugar. Getting rid of that scale had been positively liberating. So much so that I’ d have tossed away my body shaper underwear, too, if it weren’ t for that one blue dress that I look lumpy in without it.
SHORTLY AFTER LUNCH-I’ d had a chicken salad to make up for the damage I in fact did to my blood sugar-I popped into Susan’ s office. ‘ Am I still on to baby-sit tonight?’
She peered around a bouquet big enough to be mistaken for shrubbery. That was her husband, Chase. More is always more. ‘ If you don’ t mind-I’ d be forever grateful. We’ ve got reservations at Nic’ s. Chase’ s mother offered to watch the boys, but she had that toe surgery the other day. I hate to ask her to run after a couple of five-year- olds so soon.’
‘ It’ s no problem,’ I assured her.
I knew it was a special holiday for them since-and only Susan could pull this off-they’ d met on Valentine’ s Day. It was back in college, when she and I were at a bar refusing to feel like losers because we were stag. At one point, a drunk guy the size of an army tank bumped into Susan, making her spill her drink over herself. Then he lumbered on without an apology. Chase-who stands six feet two and at the time probably weighed 120 pounds dripping wet-came running over. He tipped his chin in the lunk’ s direction and said, ‘ You want me to kick his ass?’ We gaped at him for a moment, stunned, and he said, ‘ I’ m kidding. The guy’ d smash me like a bug.’ Susan was instantly smitten, and I’ m pleased to report that Chase has since filled out nicely.
They live a few miles from me in Brentwood, in a three-bedroom ranch-style house that they bought for a song at an auction and that-thanks to California’ s ridiculous real estate market-was recently appraised at more than a million dollars. I call it the palace even though it’ s only about 1,600 square feet.
I arrived at the palace at seven o’ clock. Susan had already fed and bathed C.J. and Joey and dressed them in their pajamas. ‘ Hey, beasts!’ I called to them in the living room, where they played with Legos.
C.J. and Joey-identical twins-were dark and gangly like their father. The only way I could tell them apart is by the scar Joey got when he fell off a table as a toddler. Joey squeaked an excited, ‘ What’ s that?’ when he noticed I held a big box, hopeful it was a treat of some kind. He and his brother went back to their Legos when I showed them it was only a bunch of Marissa’ s yearbooks.
‘ I figured tonight might be a good time to look through them,’ I explained to Susan as she and Chase tossed on their coats.
‘ Good luck& hope you find what you’ re looking for. And thanks again for doing this,’ Susan said. ‘ We won’ t be long.’
‘ No later than ten,’ Chase added. ‘ I plan to be home in time to get my Valentine’ s Day booty.’
Susan grinned at him. ‘ Then that chore is out of the way until Easter.’
‘ Ah, I’ ll wear you down before that. Besides’ -he grabbed his keys and pulled on the door-’ you’ re forgetting about Presidents’ Day.’
‘ Shut up with your boasting about your sex life!’ I cried as they waved good-bye to me and the boys.
Once they left, I warmed up pizza for myself and proceeded to do what I always did when watching C.J. and Joey: let them run wild. Allowed them to pull out toys and games and balls and never made them put the old toy away before bringing out something new. Eat whatever they wanted. It was okay, the way I figured it, since I didn’ t baby-sit that often. It has occurred to me that that may be the reason I don’ t baby-sit that often.
The only time I scolded them at all the entire evening was when I noticed they’ d left the door open to the cage of their guinea pig, Aunt June, named after yours truly. (Susan said it was proof of the boys’ affection for me; I suspect there may have been prompting on her part.)
‘ We always keep it open,’ C.J. explained when I showed him the unhooked latch.
‘ Doesn’ t she escape?’
‘ Nope.’
Joey then grabbed a sprig of parsley from the refrigerator to demonstrate.
