Lauren Takes Leave Gerstenblatt, Julie (classic literature list txt) 📖

punitive actionstaken, I walk away feeling completely relieved. Why? Because Martha doesn’tseem to know anything about Kat’s role as my accomplice.

Chapter 30

I pick up my children from their activities and bringthem home to rest and play. Doug and I challenge them to a huge Wii Sportcompetition in the basement, girls against boys.

“Mom, you suck at golf,” Ben says merrily, as he watchesme sink the ball into the water four times in a row. “Just forfeit.”

“Never!” I say. “I will never give up. And use the word‘stink’ instead, please.”

“Sorry,” he says, quickly and with sincerity.

I smile back and give him the thumbs-up while holding theWii remote, thereby sending another golf ball off a cliff and into the water.

“You’re better than me, Mommy,” Becca says. Which is true.We’re so going to lose this game.

“Let’s switch to shooting those ducks and balloons out ofthe sky,” Doug suggests. “Mom’s really good at that one.”

We play silently for a few minutes, each of us concentratingon racking up as many points as possible for our team.

Then Ben turns to me. “I missed you,” he says.

“I’m glad you came back,” Becca adds. Her particularchoice of phrasing makes me wonder if she was worried I might not return.

“Oh, Bec, the best thing about going away is coming back.”I put down the remote and pull both children to me, and inhale the warm,slightly puppy-dog smells trapped in their hair. “I’m sorry I had to go away inthe first place.”

I look at Doug while saying it.

“I think we need to set some new house rules about how wetalk to each other and how we treat one another, okay, guys? So that everyonestays here and stays happy,” Doug says. “We’ll have a family meeting tomorrownight at dinner, when Mommy and I have more time.”

“Okay,” I say along with Ben and Becca. I know that notevery minute with my family will be as warm and tender as this one. But it’snice to have this one, right here and now.

“Who wants to come with me to pick up the new babysitterand a pizza?” he asks, looking at his watch.

Temple Beth El is aglow with spotlights as Doug and Ipull in to the parking lot. It’s clear that there is an event here tonight, andthat it’s going to be huge, like the opening of a new Target in a strip mall.

Doug hands the car keys to a valet wearing a robe and fakebeard.

“Jesus, they are taking this fundraising effort reallyseriously, aren’t they?” Doug asks as we walk up the steps of the midcentury-moderntemple, a red carpet cascading under our feet.

“Moses, you mean.”

“The party’s theme tonight is Dancing with the Stars,”I tell Doug. “Jodi’s pretending she’s not that into it, but I think it’s herdream come true.” At the top of the stairs, we stop, greeted by life-size cutoutsof each of tonight’s Beth El “stars.” Six members of the temple’s congregationpose and smile with cardboard stiffness. I put my arm around “Jodi”—tight blackdress, high heels, auburn highlights, hand placed defiantly on one curved hip—andDoug snaps a picture of us with his phone.

And that’s when I see her. Well, not the real her,but her likeness, right next to Jodi’s frozen self. I can almost hear hercalling me a bitchwhoreasshole through clenched teeth.

Even in cardboard, Leslie scares the crap out of me.

I grab Doug by the arm and try to lead him out of thebuilding. “We have to leave. Go. Home. Now.”

“What is it, her gift? Just bring it to her another time,”he says. “I’m not driving back fifteen minutes for something you forgot.”

Thing is, seeing Leslie, I realize that I forgot my balls.

I try another tactic. “Might vomit. Very ill. Chills.Legionnaire’s disease.”

“You mean, like, from a cruise?” Doug is studying me hard.

“Ballots here!” a voice calls from a table set up nearby.“Buy some extra ballots for tonight’s fundraiser.”

Despite my desire for immediate flight from the building,Doug and I walk over to the table and give the volunteer our names. She handsus an envelope containing our tickets for entry to the ballroom and two pinkballots. “You can buy extras if you’d like,” the woman explains. “They are twofor ten or four for c-c-chai.” She spits the Hebrew word for eighteenwith a good deal of throaty phlegm.

“Ah, there you are! I’ve been looking all overfor you!” Jodi calls, grabbing me by the arm and pulling me inside. “Doug, gofind Lee and help him with the cameras. I need Lauren’s help getting ready.”

I fake-smile and wave good-bye to Doug as Jodi drags meinto the peachy, plush interior of the Beth El ladies’ room.

And just like that, I’m trapped. Trapped in temple.

“Jo,” I say, collapsing into an overstuffed armchair andtrying not to panic, “do you know Leslie Koch?”

“Yeah, sure. She’s one of the crazy bitches who’s dancingwith me tonight.” She leans into the glass and applies more makeup to heralready flawless look. “I don’t know her all that well, really. But the wordis, she had some sort of accident the other night and now her face is allfucked—” She stops midcurse and turns, lip gloss wand extended toward me as anaccusation.

“Up,” I say. “Fucked up. What did Kat say? Six stitches?”

“That was Leslie Koch’s sex-toy birthday party?With the kissing of girls and dancing round poles?”

“And the gashing of hostesses…yes, Jo!”

“That means…your dominatrix is the president of oursisterhood!”

“Small world,” a chilly voice from behind a bathroom stallsays. A flush follows.

Jodi mouths the word “Leslie” to me, and I mouth the word“Duh” to her. I have my hand on the door handle and am about one second awayfrom freedom when Leslie’s words stop me.

“Always running from the scene of the crime, aren’t you,Lauren?”

I let go of the door and turn to face what’s left ofLeslie’s face.

Her entire right check is covered in gauze held in placewith surgical tape. The rest of her face is masked in huge sunglasses. Sheslides them up to her hairline and lets them rest there, so that Jodi and I canhave a good, long look at the full horror.

And look we do.

It’s