I'll never forget that day. The stay-at-home mom of an infant and a toddler, I was part of a small, but vital network of other moms in my neighborhood. We arranged play dates, trips to local parks, and other outings which were fun for our children and emotionally nourishing for us, all former professional women. It was also not uncommon for us to give each other a call and arrange something impromptu, or even occasionally drop by just to see if each others' children were awake and interested in companionship.
I settled my young daughters in their double stroller and headed down the street to a good friend's house. She was the mother of identical twin daughters. She and her husband were in many ways the envy of the neighborhood. They were our local "Ken and Barbie". Both were extremely attractive. Jen had carried her twins to full term and almost immediately regained her pre-pregnancy figure. Steve was an up and coming executive with a beverage distribution company. Their house was tastefully and expensively furnished, they both drove luxury cars, and they had an active social life. Jen had a sitter every Friday so she could shop, get a massage and manicure, whatever struck her fancy that day. They threw the best parties in the neighborhood. On top of it all, they were so NICE. It was infuriating. I could find nothing to dislike about them, except perhaps their apparent perfection.
Well, here's the rest of the story of my perfect couple. I rang the doorbell that day and waited patiently. After all, I hadn't called ahead of time to let Jen know I'd be stopping by. Time passed and there was no reply. I rang the bell again and waited. Still no reply. This was before the advent of the ubiquitous cell phone, so I couldn't call Jen unless I headed back home. Finally, I began to knock on the door. Having been raised to be a "nice, polite girl", I didn't even consider peeking through the sidelights that framed the front door.
But when Jen didn't respond to either my knocks or the doorbell, I became very curious. I peered through the narrow window which looked into the expansive front hall, the kitchen and the breakfast room. I was shocked by the sight. The floor of the normally immaculate house was littered with toys, clothing, and household items, as far as the eye could see. The Jen I knew would never allow her house to be in such a condition, and would certainly never chance the neighbors seeing it like that.
As I surveyed the scene, I became alarmed that perhaps one of the children had been injured or suddenly fallen ill and Jen had rushed to the hospital. I looked through the windows of the garage and saw her car. Clearly, she hadn't gone anywhere. Now I was becoming outright scared. Perhaps she had passed out.
I turned the stroller around and headed back up the street to the home of another good friend, Marci. I told her what I had seen. She popped her young son into his stroller and we headed back to Jen's house. This time, I banged on the door with my fist and we both called her name at the top of our lungs. Nothing. I tried the front door. To my surprise, it opened. Now I was frankly terrified. Had someone broken into the house?
Without thinking, I marched into the house, Marci remaining on the doorstep with the children. I walked through the house, calling Jen's name. Again, nothing. This time, I opened the closets, fearing the worst. I entered Jen's and Steve's enormous master bedroom suite. My feeling of being an intruder was overriden by my fear for my friend and her daughters. I went so far as to open the frosted glass door which covered the tub and shower. Thankfully, no horrific sight greeted me.
After canvassing the house and the garage, including Jen's BMW, I joined Marci and the children on the doorstep. We decided we had no choice but to call Steve, who was out of town on business. We trudged back up the steep hill to Marci's house to look for Steve's office number. I kept the children, who were now becoming restless, occupied while Marci made the call. Marci left a message with Steve's administrative assistant and we waited. While the children played in the huge upstairs rec room, Marci and I sat solemnly, pondering what might have happened to Jen and the girls. Time dragged on.
Finally, the phone rang. It was Steve. I watched the expression on Marci's face change from one of grave concern to puzzlement to irritation. After saying goodbye to Steve, she put the phone down and turned to me, saying "You'll never believe this". Here's the rest of the story: Steve had headed to Orlando on business. While there, his schedule had changed and he ended up with a day with no appointments. On the spur of the moment, he called Jen and suggested she and the girls join him for a day at Disney World. She grabbed a few things for the three of them, called a cab, and headed to the airport. So, while Marci and I were fearing that Jen and her daughters had perhaps been kidnapped--or worse--the family was having a wonderful time in the Magic Kingdom, strolling down Main Street, getting Mickey's autograph, and enjoying the parades.
That day was an eye opener for me. I learned some important things about my dear friend, Jen. One was that, like all the rest of us with young children, after a while, cooking, cleaning, laundry, changing diapers, running errands, providing what we hoped was just the right amount of intellectual/social/emotional stimulation for our children, not to mention trying to have some sort of relationship with our husbands, catches up with you. Fatigue sets in and something has to give. Chaos seems to engulf the house and you're not sure how you'll ever restore order. The other, and perhaps more important lesson, was that Jen could so easily fail to anticipate that her friends would notice her absence and be very concerned about her; that she could dash off so quickly that she left her home in disarray and unsecured.
That day, I took Jen and Steve off the pedestal which they'd occupied in my mind. I still admired them for the way they seemed to make everything look so effortless. But I now knew something of their private lives, when they weren't on display. So, while nature may have graced them with good looks and intelligence, like the rest of us, they went about their own lives behind closed doors. And, when company was coming, so to speak, just like the proverbial duck, they were calm and collected on the surface, but paddling like hell underneath. The perfect couple was, after all, merely mortal.
No comments:
Post a Comment