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David and Stephanie had arrived at Frieda s apartment
less than two hours ago. They were a pleasant surprise for
Frieda and Justin, who had no particular plans for that
steamy Saturday. Apparently, Georgia had paid David her
own surprise visit very early that morning, showing up at
his doorstep with Stephanie, announcing that she was
speaking on a panel at the annual organizers exhibit at the
Javits Center. She d originally planned on taking Stephanie
to the show, but realized quickly that it was a bad idea,
serving no one s interests. Georgia was sorry she hadn t
called; the whole trip down to New York had been very last
minute. But could David take Stephanie for the day?
One phone call and a taxi ride later, David and Frieda
were making sandwiches in the kitchen of her apartment
to take to Prospect Park for a picnic. Stephanie and Justin
were playing quietly in his room. Curiosity pulled Frieda
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The Not-So-Perfect Man
down the hall to discover that the kids had taken out the
paint set (forbidden without supervision) and decided that
Justin s wood floor would look better speckled. The spots
were randomly ordered, sized, and shaped. The sight of
them made Frieda see red, as well as blue, yellow, orange
and green.
First, the reprimand. Frieda contained her anger fairly
well. She was the first to admit that she had an obsession
(nonclinical) with neatness. Usually, she became apoplectic
when Justin created extra cleaning work for her. He was
supposed to help her, not make her life harder. She used
that motherly refrain upon seeing the spots, but not with
her usual shrill vibrato. If David hadn t been here, Frieda
would have gone ballistic.
Frieda dropped the bucket on the painted floor. She
dipped her brush and scrubbed. David did the same. She
said, You know that TV commercial for bionic paper tow-
els that shows a cute kid in a baseball cap spilling a gallon
of orange juice on the floor, and when the mother sees
what he s done, she shakes her head and smiles like she
can hardly wait to clean up?
David said, I refuse to buy those paper towels in protest.
Obviously, Justin did this to see how I d react in front
of you, said Frieda.
Did you react differently? he asked.
Not really, she lied. Somewhat, she revised.
David said, I wonder if you d treat me differently if
Justin weren t here. If the kids weren t here, and we were
alone.
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alerie Frankel
A strange thing to say. She ignored it. What should we
do to them, punishment-wise? she asked.
He paused his scrubbing to dunk his brush in the bucket.
I like no snacks, meaning no sugary or salty substance,
for a prescribed length of time.
What? A day? A week?
For this, he gestured at the paint with his brush, I d
give him the rest of the day. That ll hurt. Especially if we go
out for ice cream. Which we will do. As soon as we finish
and get them dressed, he said.
What about Stephanie? asked Frieda, instantly defen-
sive. Her son hadn t acted alone.
He said, No ice cream for her either or we could all get
ice cream, and say no TV.
Yes, but then what will we do with them after dinner?
Without TV, we ll have to entertain them ourselves.
That is out of the question, said David, doing master-
ful work on a blue splotch. Okay, how about this? We
don t punish them, due to the mitigating circumstances,
but we make them feel guilty and full of shame.
Frieda nodded. Complain of back pain from scrubbing.
The cost of having the floor cleaned professionally.
The waste of a beautiful morning.
He said, If we see people you know on the street, we
will tell them what happened in very loud voices.
She laughed. That is shameful. David s parenting style
was so like hers. They both acted without fear for the
child s future on the therapist s couch. After all, Justin was
already on the couch.
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The Not-So-Perfect Man
Frieda said, Due to the mitigating circumstances. What
did you mean by that?
David didn t look up from the floor. Justin knows your
reactions. He doesn t know mine. He s on a fact-finding
mission.
I don t see why he d care, said Frieda.
He wants to know what I d be like as his stepfather.
That s crazy, said Frieda, scrubbing harder.
They talk about it, said David. Stephanie told me.
We ve known each other for only a couple of weeks,
said Frieda.
He sat back on his heels, hands resting on his jeans-clad
thighs. Stephanie might be a bigger yenta than Ilene.
Ilene has been pushing you on me for months, said
Frieda.
And you to me. She thinks she s subtle, he said.
They both had a laugh at that. David smiled at her, a dot
of blue paint in his chin. He said, You know, Ilene might
be onto something.
Frieda stopped laughing. You mean up to something.
David said, You and me is a pretty good idea.
What was this? thought Frieda. David liked her now?
She hadn t seen that coming. She certainly wasn t sending
signals. David was good-looking, she supposed, but Frieda
had always gone for quirkier types.
She said, I haven t put you in a romantic context.
You don t think scrubbing the floor, side by side, is ro-
mantic? he asked.
Frieda said, Scrubbing? Romantic? I don t think so.
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alerie Frankel
David said, I do.
Gregg s idea of romance was to surprise her with dia-
mond jewelry. Sam s idea of romance was to remove her
clothes with his teeth. David liked household chores?
He said, Anything can be romantic with the right person.
Well, of course, she said.
Not only is scrubbing romantic, said David, it s sexy. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ] - zanotowane.pl
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