Scattered Landmines

four

"Of course, that sounds great, I can't wait to meet her," I say, and am secretly hoping that her schoolmate's mom might be someone I can eventually become friends with since I still have yet to meet any acquaintances.

"We worked on reading today, and I am the best reader in the class," exclaimed Brooks. "The other kids are still learning to read, but I was already taught how to at my other school." There hasn't been a time where Brooks wasn't ahead for his age. Even now, at five, he is showing signs of being fiercely and academically-competitive, as well as an overachiever.

I give him a high five, our palms smacking with such force it makes my skin sting. "You're definitely my little smarty pants. We need to continue practicing every night so you can read those big books to me that you have been eyeing at the bookstore. Now you guys go upstairs; get washed up for dinner, and then we will do homework."

As I am setting the table in preparation for dinner, Nancy is shuffling around the kitchen, cooking up a storm. "The table is all set. Is there anything I can help you with?" I ask out of politeness.

"Oh, yes, love. I could use your help chopping up this lettuce for the Caesar salad," she hands me an apron to wear, pointing to the bag of romaine sitting on top of a cutting board. I move to the sink, thoroughly washing my hands before I start touching the food. My dad sits on a barstool at the island, drinking a beer and talking to us for a few minutes before retreating to the living room to watch a game on the television. All while Nancy and I have a bit of "girl talk" about what we are going to wear to the pub, what time we are going, and life bits, of course.

After eating a spread of roasted chicken and veggies, au gratin potatoes, and the Caesar salad I prepared, I return upstairs getting ready for the big night out on the town. I fight the jittery feeling in my stomach about being out in public night scene since it's something I rarely do and begin with retrieving my makeup bag from under the bathroom sink. Since we are going to a pub, I put on a thin line of eyeliner with a conservative amount of foundation and powder, finishing off with a hint of blush for a rosy color. The weather is most definitely cold, so I decide to wear my favorite white off the shoulder knit cable sweater and skinny black jeans with a pair of black pointy-toe booties. The jeans contour my curves in just the right way, making me feel more than sexy enough, and my hair already looks somewhat decent even after my nap, so I do a light touch up with my curling iron to give it some long loose waves, finishing it off with a coat of hairspray to protect against moisture in case it's damp outside. In the event I forget something, I perform a mental checklist then grab my purse, phone, and my leather jacket before stopping into the bathroom to run a bit of pink gloss over my lips. I put the tube of gloss into my purse and make my way downstairs to see if Nancy is ready.

Everyone is sitting around the island of the kitchen talking about their day when they shift gazes upon me.

"Wow, mom!" hollers Brooks. He looks astonished to see me dressed up. I wonder if he even recalls the last time I wore something other than casual wear. Probably not.

"Oh, wow, Ro, you look beautiful," Nancy exclaimed. She's one to talk; she's elegantly dressed in a black ensemble paired with her black stilettos with painted red bottoms. I look down, scanning myself, and I'm beginning to rethink my choice of attire.

"Me? Are you sure I'm not too underdressed?" I question, raising my arms. "I'm going to have to keep all the men off you, Nancy," I say, and my dad laughs a little too hard, choking down his ale.

"I think maybe I should have gotten a sitter — two good-looking girls in an English pub. The lads won't be able to resist two of Norwich's most beautiful women," my dad coos and stands up, pulling Nancy by the waist from behind and plants a tender kiss on her cheek. Vomit.