THE EDGE
It hardly seemed possible, but it was true: exactly one year before, I was sliding into the lowest point of my life. Though it felt so much further in the past, I remember all too well the cold gray evening that previous November, how I was wobbling on my high heels as I walked toward the banquet hall.
I had only meant to get a little buzz going, just enough to take the edge off. As proud as I was of Tracie and her volleyball team's winning season, their third in a row, that year I was dreading the award ceremony.
For one thing, I didn't look good. All the other team moms would be there, and other family and friends, and everyone would be dressed up. But I had put on weight, and I hadn't bought any nice clothes in a year or two. I did what I could with what I had, but what I was feeling about myself was the opposite of proud.
The worst part was that my stepdaughter had told me her father would be there. And if having to see my ex-husband wasn't bad enough, he was also supposedly bringing whatever little tramp he was dating at the moment.
"Don't worry, Mom," Tracie had said. "Just sit at different tables. You never have to even talk to him."
That was well and good, but while he was bringing a date, all I was bringing was my aging, drinking-too-much, about-to-lose-my-job sorry self. I hadn't had a date since the divorce. He, on the other hand, had never stopped dating, including, it turned out, while we were married.
I knew Tracie would sit with her teammates, like at all her sports ceremonies before, so that would leave me sitting alone, next to some random team mom who would probably talk my ear off for hours. How was I going to pretend to be happy and fine while my jerk ex and his new little girlfriend shot glances at me across the banquet hall?
But in spite of it all, I would be there for my Tracie. She was eighteen then, in her junior year of high school, so times like this were numbered before she'd go off to college and leave me. My own mother had never been there for me when I was growing up, and I always swore I would be a better mother.
I hoped I wasn't too late. I hadn't seen Tracie all day. After school, she went to a teammate's house to get ready for the ceremony, and rode with them to the venue. My daughter didn't spend much time at home anymore. It seemed whenever she could hang out or sleep over at a friend's house, she did. I couldn't blame her. Being around me probably just brought her down.
But Tracie did send me a photo of herself with her friend, all made up and dressed for the event, looking fantastically beautiful. With it came the text, "5:30 don't be late! Be good."
As I walked toward the banquet hall, some late autumn leaves blew across the parking lot. Watching them skitter and tumble put me off my balance, and my walking got a little curvy. Of course, it wasn't the leaves. It was all those little sips of vodka I'd thrown back on the drive to the venue. I had taken a lot more "edge off" than I had meant to. Frankly, I had emptied my flask.
I sucked in a deep breath of the chilly November air to perk myself up. It was time to make an appearance as a good mom. I was hoping I could fake it.
~*~
Inside the banquet hall, my booze-bleary eyes sharpened focus when I saw the bevy of young women walking around in dazzling cocktail and party dresses. Tracie's volleyball teammates were making the most of the event - they appeared to be in competition to show off their athletic teenage bodies. And these were competitive young ladies!
I had watched many of them grow up with Tracie over the years, so I still thought of them as girls. But they had grown into young women now, and were of age to dress however they wanted. Their outfits had gotten shorter, tighter, and more flashy and daring at each year's team ceremony. Now that they were eighteen, nearly done with high school, and didn't need their parents' permission, a few of their mini dresses seemed more appropriate for a Miami nightclub than a family event.
But tonight was their night. It was cute how they hurried around the hall with each other, excited, laughing, taking selfies together.
Ah, to be young and beautiful. Seeing the girls so happy made me smile. But it also made me feel old. It was a full thirty years since I was a pretty teenager like them, running around, giggling with friends. Where did all those years go?
And even when I was their age, we didn't dare dress like they did now. I couldn't get over all the leg, shoulder, and bust these girls were showing. I hoped they would be warm enough, because the banquet hall was kind of chilly. You'd think they could turn the heat on in the place. But the cool air would probably help keep me from nodding off in my seat - if I could find one.
Coming in at the last minute, I found most of the tables were already full. I scanned for a seat somewhere that wouldn't be too embarrassing.
Boom
- there he was, my ex-husband, sitting across the room, looking right at me. I swallowed back on the urge to throw up. And of course, there was his young cutie with him, looking twenty years younger than him - not much older than the girls on the team. I tried not to recognize her - I didn't care - but she did look familiar. She probably was one of his employees I'd met before the divorce.
I wanted to call out to her,
You're welcome to him! Don't say I didn't warn ya!
I was thinking about walking out, but my mood quickly improved when I heard my favorite voice say, "Mom, you made it."
I swung around to see the most beautiful young woman in the world, my Tracie, walking toward me with a friend. I gasped at how amazing she and the girl with her looked in their stunning little dresses. My stepdaughter's soft smile lit up my heart.
"Oh, there you are!" I said. I opened my arms and took Tracie in a happy hug. "Of course I made it, sweetheart. I'll always make it for you. Let me look at you. Oh my god. You look like a dream, honey. Your hair! Absolutely gorgeous. And you too..." I couldn't remember the other girl's name.
"Mackenzie," the girl said. She smiled with a chuckle and pushed her hair back over her shoulders. I'd known Mackenzie McClintock as Tracie's teammate for years, and should have remembered her name, but the vodka had taken off more than an edge.
"Yes of course, Mackenzie, I know your name. Let me get a picture of you two beauties. Look at you, all grown up and so gorgeous."
As I fished my phone out of my purse, I fumbled and dropped it. "Oh shoot!"
When I bent over to pick it up, I got so woozy I started tipping over.
Tracie grabbed me to keep me from falling. "Oh my god, Mom." She steadied me on my feet.
Mackenzie knelt down to pick up my phone. I accidentally got a good look down her dress. She looked up at me and stood slowly, as if she wanted me to see her bosom.
"Oh, thank you," I said, trying to act more sober. "Here, let me get that pic of you. So beautiful..." I fiddled around on my phone in confusion, unable to get the camera working.
Finally, with a huff, Tracie grabbed my phone. "What's wrong, Mom?" In two seconds, she had the camera running. "There. Now take the picture."
"Oh thank you, baby. Stand together, you two. Gorgeous. Ready? One, two, three!" I took a picture, but it was all blurry. "Oh, let me try again."
"Forget it, Mom. We need to find you a seat. They're starting in a few minutes."
"Oh, okay..." It took me three tries to get my phone back into my purse. Tracie's friend snickered. I said, "To heck with pictures, anyway, right? But at least let me just feast my eyes on you in the here and now."
Tracie rolled her eyes. Mackenzie, who was shorter, stood up as tall as she could, pressing out her bust and smiling flirtatiously.
I stroked my stepdaughter's arm and said, "You two look amazing. My goodness. Makes me wish I was a teenage boy."
Mackenzie looked at Tracie. My daughter's mouth fell open.
"Um, okay, Mom. That's a little... weird."
Her friend stifled a laugh.
