Rachel Lavin grew up right next to Margo; they don’t remember a time before being friends and they were best friends through all of school. They can finish each other’s sentences, and much more impressively, communicate with just a glance. Sometimes, it’s the lack of the glance that shouts even louder. Married at the same time, they had their first children a few months apart. In college, Rachel, tall and drop dead gorgeous, always dated the best looking, most athletically gifted guys on campus. They made very good looking couples, but the brains were mostly weighted on the female side. Unfortunately, she decided to marry one of them – and have his child. Not her best move, but she owned up to it and corrected it when she realized raising a child with a less than brilliant, professional baseball player would be a lonely life. She found a house close to Margo’s – and life continued as before, but now with little responsibilities added to their lives.
Rachel’s son Richard and Margo’s son Austin were also best friends and they had the full run of each other’s house, pretty much nonstop. Although they played on the same soccer team, the talent levels were quite different, mirroring the coordination genes of the dads. Rachel married her second husband, John, when Richard was 3 years old, this time picking someone who made her laugh, wasn’t intimidated by her talents, including being a terrible flirt (for good causes, of course) and could hold his own in a wide range of subjects. Often, all four parents showed up at the soccer field – like happy hour. And, then as often as not, they ended up at one house for dinner. Somewhere along the way, Beth joined the small tribe, adopting the children and the playing field, too. Beth was more of the Mary Ann type from Gilligan’s island, and she sometimes felt a bit like an outsider in the small group. But, she realized Margo and Rachel had a long, long history together. The three formed a serious support group with Beth just as nice as she seemed while Rachel and Margo rated about the same on the niceness scale. However, Rachel’s outward actions made her appear much nicer than she really was, that is until pushed. Margo, on the other hand, appeared less nice than her reality and didn’t react much to pushing at all. Mamma bear was steady and consistent.
Just the gals are hanging in the bleachers at the side of the soccer field, feeling lucky to have the nice early evening. Margo watches Austin stumble around the field, wondering at what age he’d have a clue as to how long it takes to just reach a ball. She also wonders why the other children played better, why is there such a difference? Margo had been doing a bit of research which, like lots of research, cleared up nothing.
“I’ve just been reading Jeff Colvin’s book “Talent is Over-rated”. You guys read that?” Margo asks Rachel and Beth while looking out at the pathetic spectacle of her first born.
“It‘s on my reading shelf – way, way off in Netherland where books end up that will never be held nor adored”, replies Rachel, as she pushed her hand out, out and out, like shoving books off a shelf.
Beth adds, “My book club was reading it, but I was not very interested, so I was “sick” that month.” She adds, with her air quotes around sick. Then, after a short pause, she continues to Margo, “And, my god woman, when do you have time to read?”
Rachel answers for her friend, as if they were one, a bad habit common among best friends forever. “She only sleeps 4 hours a night; drove us all crazy in college.”
“I’ll admit, not requiring much sleep gives me some advantages,” concedes Margo. “Colvin argues that practice time is really what separates skill levels. I don’t think he’s ever been to a little kid’s soccer game. I mean look at my Austin. He’s just a spaz. Richard just runs circles around him.”
With perfect timing for poetic effect, Austin makes a little move, falls flat on his face and the rest of the kids just run past him. While his mother displays mortification, throwing up her hands into the air and saying “see”, Austin gets up, dusts himself off and plunges ahead.
Rachel, coming to her friend’s rescue, says, “Yes, but Richard’s dad was a pro athlete, so, that is just in the genes. We also know his dad is not going to develop a cure for anything other than perhaps a hangover. And, that would be practice, not talent. But, hey, his athlete prowess kept me darn happy for a little while.”
“That is just my point! Genes rule, not practice. Austin could practice for 8 hours a day, 365 days a year for them years and not play as well as Richard plays right now.“ Although it had been said a thousand times before, Margo reiterated, “At least you got it right with John.”
Beth points to a kid in the field who is a study in grace and coordination, at any age. Clearly in need of better competition, he fakes a step, easily runs around 4 then 5 kids, proceeds to the goalie and scores. It looks as if he could do it at will.
“Now, that is a born athlete! He moves like a gazelle around all the kids.” Says Beth.
A much younger mother sitting in the stands a few rows down turns around and starts speaking to the tribe. “Sorry, but I couldn’t help overhearing. That’s my son Michael. He was always gifted athletically. I don’t mean to brag, but he was walking and talking at 8 months and neither his dad nor I have any idea where it comes from. So I don’t think it was genes or practice,” says Candy, the young mom.
“Perhaps it was some of those recessive genes,” replies Margo with a laugh.
Beth, always the gracious one, responds, “You must be new around here, come up and join us. Maybe your luck will rub off.”
To which Margo quickly adds, “Yes, come rub my belly.”
As Candy moves up in the stand, the tribe discerns a smallish pump in Candy’s midsection, out of place with the rest of her well-toned body, unless of course….. But, nobody wants to say anything, because they have all been embarrassed by voicing such assumptions. God knows, this bump could be a fatal tumor, perhaps only caused by some venereal disease.
“ Yes, I’m Candy and my husband Tony and I just moved to town, so we don’t know many people yet, “ Candy says. “The kids seem to integrate immediately.”
“As you’ll soon find out, I’m Beth, the nice one,” says Beth as she taps a spot between her and Margo as an indication of where Candy should sit.
After shaking hands, Beth continues with the introductions, hoping nobody mentions “the bump”.
“And this is Margo Rice. The best veterinarian in town, very good with animals, but kind of a ball buster to everyone else.”
Margo says, “Welcome to town, Candy,” as she points at her belly with both hands. Candy gives Margo’s belly a little rub instead of a handshake.
Beth tries to hide the look of horror on her face, but Rachel knows her too well and starts laughing. “Oh Beth, a pregnant woman’s belly becomes everyone’s property. As one day you’ll see, total strangers will come up to rub it.”
“Thanks for the rub, Candy. I would be honored to serve the furrier members of your family.”
Candy quickly admits that she is petless, but that could change soon, since she promised Michael he could have a dog if he got all A’s his first semester her. “So I do see a dog in my future,” she says with an odd sense of modesty. They all agree that a pet could also help with the transition, although nobody acknowledges that transitions for the good looking, star athletes and scholars are much easier than an average shlub.
Beth continued her introductions, “And this is Rachel, loudest mouth in town, which we find useful from time to time.”
Rachel, sitting on the bleacher seat directly behind them, reaches down and shakes Candy’s hand. “I know everyone in town and my primary job is to ask people for money, so let’s just get that out of the way right now. You can write your bank account number and other contact information right here” Rachel says as she hands Candy her phone. “Then, be very careful around me because I will record every embarrassing, humiliating thing you do and use it against you, for good causes only, of course.”
After concentrating on the phone for a longish period of time (was she really entering her banking info????), Candy looks up at Margo and remarks, “Well, I am pregnant, too! 4 months, so not showing much yet. I’m guessing we’ll have our babies around the same time.”
Beth exhales a bit loudly, finally glad that Candy addressed the bump situation.
“Yes, but you are a decade younger than I. So, you will be dancing up until you are due and I will be too sore to move starting soon, ” says Margo remembering her last pregnancy where beginning at month 7 she started waddling like a drunk duck and felt like she was dislocating her hips every time she swung a leg around to go up a step. Now at just 4 months, her spine feels as if she’d been hiking up a mountain with an upright piano strapped to her back. it is going to be a long pregnancy.
Michael runs off the field and with a few gazelle-like graceful hops is in front of his mom.
“Mother, can we do a reading from “The Federalists’ Papers” tonight? I hear it is a vital document, still relevant today,” says Michael.
Candy lets him know that this could be done and then turns to her new companions, almost apologetically, ”I have no idea where that intellect comes from, either. It doesn’t come from our genes. But it sure keeps me on my toes. You all wouldn’t know where I could find a copy of that document, would you?”
“As the unofficial town welcome committee, let me point you to our library. You can check out electronic books from any of the California libraries, so stop on your way home.” Beth tells her.
Then, before Candy leaves, Rachel tells her about the annual fund raiser for the Central City Animal Shelter – a noble cause, even if you don’t own a pet. Rachel tells her, “We’ll all be there, I’ll introduce you around, and you can see where to get a little pussy in this town. For free.”
Margo quickly clarifies, “See means the pussy, not the fund raiser. She’ll rake you over the coals for the cause.”
Rachel reminds everyone that picking pockets is her job. Most men in town enjoy being pick pocketed by her, half the women enjoy it, too. All the signs were there, thought Rachel, Candy will be a pretty easy mark. Rachel gives her a flier and ponders how she might be able to write-off the soccer field meeting.
Turning back to the tribe, Rachel says, “She’s good for at least 200 dollars – and probably will take a dog, too.” Her friends shoot her a scolding, but amused look. Then, she attempts to pick up the conversation where it left off. “So few kids make it as pro athletes – they definitely need a plan B. I will be happy if my Richard just gets a college scholarship – and doesn’t inherit his dad’s drinking problems.”
Looking around, Rachel is the first to see Jeff enter the field. “ There’s Jeff. My god, but he looks terrible. Maybe you can get him a little pussy Saturday night to lift that gloom.”
Margo takes a look at Jeff and quickly knows that his hellish job has somehow just gotten worse. Poor guy. “Oh, sex will totally hit the skids as I get larger! I forgot how much we hate me being pregnant.“ Then, Margo attempts to pull the conversation out of the gutter, “When I go home, I am pulling out Einstein’s theory of relativity because Austin is definitely going to have to make a living with his brains.”
Richard runs up to his mother Rachel as she leaps off the bleacher and he grabs her hand, as if he’s the luckiest guy on the field. Rachel wonders how many more years he’ll be doing that – he’ll become too cool to hold mom’s hand and she won’t continue to be nearly so hot. As they walk out of the stadium, Jeff high-fives Richard as he goes to join Margo in the stands. He’s not sure how soon he should let her know about his miserable day. He really doesn’t want it to be the first thing out of his mouth, even though Margo can read his emotions as if they were tattooed on his forehead. Giving it the ole college try, he starts with another subject: “How is Austin playing?”
Margo responds that all those hours in the backyard are certainly beginning to payoff.
Proudly and rhetorically, Jeff asks, “Really?”
To which Margo covers her face with both hands, shakes her head and says, “ Nope, not at all. Not At All.” Followed by “You look terrible. Dan bite you today? “
Jeff lets out a huff of air, relieved he can get this off his chest so soon. Maybe the pathetic, pouting look can’t be hidden and has some uses. “The shit hit the proverbial fan today about missing the budget, the deadline, and oh, all the specifications on the Water Tower project. A real fucking trifecta. I think I am lucky to have my job, but I have to let my team go – and I mean shortly.”
Margo is trying to act concerned, but really, she wishes Jeff would just frigging leave the Nautical Specialty Engineering hell hole. Having lost both parents at a young age, her idea of time is a bit different than Jeff’s. “I am sorry, honey. Was Dan at least classy about it? “
Jeff answered “Yes.”
Margo, incredulous, asks “Really?”
And, Jeff responses: “Nope, not at all. Not At All. “
Owning the best veterinarian clinic in town, Margo meets a wide swath of city’s population; hardly anyone in this town is too poor to own some small menagerie. And, of course, they all pay cash. While tempted to be a bit of a communist and charge by the person’s house, car or reputation, Margo never did this. She actually went the other way and posted all her rates. She was merely more generous with payment terms with the “poor”. Even though she was always tempted to charge Dan more for his raucous charges, she could never quite do it. For one, it was too tricky with the prominent postings. Mental torture, she conjectures, would hurt him lots more than money. “That’s OK next time he shows up with a fluffy, I’ll make up some terrible, contagious disease and make him bring in the whole crew for treatment. “Sorry Dan, Fluffy caught the very rare snarkelhousen virus. So rare, you can’t even google it. Better bring them all in today for testing.” For good measure, I’ll even holler to Allison to clear my calendar.”
“Could you also put him in quarantine for a month?” Dan asks pleadingly.
Finished being the politician on the field, Austin heads for the bleaches and Margo and Dan head down to meet him. On the way down, Margo snags a flyer floating up the steps and starts reading it when she hits the ground.
“Dr. Hudini – Genetic Counselling”, she reads out loud. The flyer features a picture of a nice-looking Indian gentleman with a smattering of gray around his temples lending an air of distinction and a hint that he is no longer 30 something.
She puts it under Jeff’s nose. “Do you think it is too late for this? Something might seriously be wrong with our gene combination. Did you see the kids report cards? “
Jeff put his arm around Margo while pretending to look ag the flyer. “Well, they couldn’t be worse than the last ones.”
“Nope!”
Giving her a thumbs up, Jeff says, “See, I told you they would improve. “
“Nope, you obviously haven’t seen their report cards. I’ve set up meetings with their teachers for tomorrow,” Margo says while pointing both thumbs way down.
Austin bounds up to them, cutting the conversation short, looking for a head rub of affection. As they walk off, Jeff reviews a few pointers with Austin, who has long since lost interest.