When Valerie stepped out of the bedroom, she found her parents—Priscilla and Coltrane Barlow—waiting for her.
Priscilla Barlow had turned sixty-two the month before. She wore her frosted brown hair cut short, just above the collar, and still carried herself with the erect certainty of a woman who expected the room to adjust to her. Time had softened the sleekness of her figure into something fuller, though no one in their right mind would have pointed that out. She had a sharp nose, slightly prominent front teeth, and a voice that could go from crisp to piercing in a heartbeat.
"Happy birthday, Valerie." She looked her daughter up and down. "Did you gain weight?" Typical.
"Hi, Mom. How are you?" Val leaned in and brushed a kiss across her cheek.
Turning gratefully away from her mother's scrutiny, she hugged her father, kissed his cheek, and said, "Dad. You're looking fit. How're you doing?"
Coltrane Barlow gave her a gentle squeeze. At six-four, he could substantially fill a doorway. He had worn the same flat-top for most of his life, though time had thinned it enough to blur the effect. He sported thick sideburns he had worn since high school, and no amount of pleading from Valerie ever convinced him to shave them. The tips of his fingers were rough with the tiny calluses of years spent working locks and delicate mechanisms. He had inherited Barlow's Locksmith from his father, who had inherited it from his own—a family trade carried forward for more than seventy years.
"I checked the obits this morning, and my name wasn't there, so I guess I'm doing all right." He chuckled at the same joke he had been making for at least a decade. "Any day I wake up above ground is a good day."
Rod stepped forward. "Colt, good to see you." He shook his hand, oozing easy charm. It always startled Valerie how polished he could be when he chose to be. Then he turned to Priscilla, kissed her cheek, and said, "Priscilla, I'm so glad you could make it."
Pris pulled away quicker than she should have. "This was certainly short notice. Sorry we didn't have time to get a gift. If we had known..."
Valerie let out a chuckle. "Actually, Mom, this day comes at the same time every year. How much notice do you need?"
I would have been surprised if you had brought a gift.
Rod asked, "Can I offer anyone anything?"
Colt stepped forward and handed Rod a bottle of wine dangling in a yellow plastic bag. "I know my daughter's taste, so I brought my own." He glanced at Val. "Love you, sweetheart, but I can't drink wine out of a box." He scrunched up his face and laughed.
Valerie laughed with him. "Dad, we can't all be wine snobs. Some of us like to keep things simple." His laughter warming her as usual.
Rod took the wine and moved to the counter to open it.
The doorbell rang. Mark and Tommi had arrived.
"Happy birthday," they said in unison. Tommi, holding a helium balloon, stepped in and hugged Valerie. Tommi was nine inches shorter than Val. As they hugged, her head landed right between Val's breasts. Valerie could feel Tommi's augmented boobs press against her stomach.
"It's so good to see you. I've missed you. What've you been up to?" Tommi cooed.
Mark stepped in next and kissed Val on the cheek, his mustache scratching her skin. He was broad-shouldered and solidly built, with thick brown hair that brushed his shoulders. "Happy birthday, beautiful," he said as he patted her butt and moved into the room. Valerie let it pass. It was just Mark being Mark.
Seeing Val's parents, Mark said, "Hey, good to see you guys again." Sticking out his hand toward Coltrane, "Colt, how's it going? Priscilla, as beautiful as I remember. Nice to see you."
Priscilla blushed. "Always the charmer, this one."
Mark carried a twelve-pack of beer to the kitchen island and set it down. "Rod, what's up, my man?" He clapped him on the shoulder and pulled him into a bear hug. "It's been a while since we all got to hang out."
"Yeah," Rod said. "I just finished a deck job. Got a little too efficient, though—finished early and lost a few days of work."
Mark nodded. "That sucks. You got anything lined up after that?" Rod grabbed a beer, popped it open, and shrugged. "Ah, you know, something always comes along."
Priscilla, who had clearly been listening, cut in. "There really isn't any security in freelance, is there?"
Valerie heard the edge in her mother's voice and knew exactly where it was headed. Before the evening could be derailed, she stepped between them. "Mom, you know how hard Rod works. His clients like him, so let it go." She physically turned her mother away from Rod and walked her into the living room, pushing her down on the couch.
"Mom, you can't say things like that. It's really rude," Val chastised. "Well, I don't know; he's never been very good. I had to bring someone else in to fix the work he did on our back porch. Have I ever told you that?" Priscilla asked.
Only every time I see you.
"Yes, Mom, you've mentioned it."
Valerie drew a steadying breath and with all the patience she could gather, said, "Let's just have a nice evening, okay? We don't need to say things that hurt people."
"Hmm. I'm not going to lie about it," Priscilla said with potent self-righteousness.
Valerie cringed. Whenever she was together with her mother, the anxiety, self-consciousness, and insecurity from a lifetime of passive-aggressive belittling came charging to the forefront of her persona. A lifetime of a thousand cuts had conditioned her well. That slant-eyed look of disapproval, the little grumble of disappointment, that horrible tsking sound she made with her tongue, would level her in an instant.
Colt came over and gave Priscilla a glass of red wine. "Here you go, dear.
It's a Washington cab; you really like these."
Sitting on the sofa, Colt said, "So, Val, what's new?"
That's a loaded question.
A flicker of apprehension ran through her. Her mother's judgment always seemed poised, ready to pounce. Valerie didn't want to mention the degree until she had a chance to tell Rod first. "Oh, you know," she said lightly, "same ol,' same ol.' Work, work, work."
Rod and Mark drifted out onto the balcony with their beers. Tommi crossed to the couch and sat with Val and her parents. "So, are we ordering in? I'm guessing from the late phone call that Rod didn't really plan ahead?" She shook her head toward Val, conveying that she understood how men are. "If everyone's okay with it, I'd love a sausage and mushroom pizza. I've been craving it." Without hesitation, Priscilla said, "I'm not a big mushroom fan. Do we have to have those?"
Valerie shook her head. "Mom, we can get two—one sausage and mushroom, and one with whatever you want. Sound good?"
Priscilla replied, "I just don't like mushrooms. Is that a crime?" Trying to help out, Tommi asked, "What would you like, Mrs. Barlow?"
"Oh, I don't care. Whatever," Priscilla said.
Valerie and Tommi exchanged hopeless looks. "Dad, what's your pleasure?"
"Your mother likes pepperoni and green peppers. How about that? You like that, Pris?" Colt responded.
"Oh, sure. Anything. I'm not picky." Priscilla sipped her wine. "You're right, Colt—this is very good. Much better than that boxed stuff."
Valerie let out a quiet, exasperated breath and picked up her phone. She placed the pizza order, and twenty merciful minutes later, it arrived.
Priscilla eyed the pink cake box on the counter. "Val, is that birthday cake?
I'd love a piece, if I could."
Val smirked.
Was there ever any doubt?
She cut a slice. "Here you go, Mom."
Priscilla gobbled the cake. No sooner had the meal been finished than her parents were ready to head out.
"We don't mean to eat and run, but our favorite show is on tonight, and we want to get home in time to watch it. You understand, don't you, dear? It was all rather short notice." Priscilla gathered up her purse as she spoke.
Don't let the door hit you in the ass, right?
"Mom, there's this amazing invention now called streaming. You can watch a show whenever you want. You don't have to catch it live, with commercials."
Priscilla gave a small, dismissive snort. "Well, I don't know about all that.
We like our routine."
Recognizing the futility of arguing with her, Valerie gave each of them a goodbye kiss, and a moment later, they were gone.
A while later, Valerie and Tommi sat at the kitchen counter. The helium balloon that read "Happy Birthday, Big Girl, 39!" floated above the sink, tied to the faucet. Val had her red wine, and Tommi was drinking a Paloma, a tequila grapefruit concoction. The banter from out on the balcony between Rod and Mark droned in the background. As usual, they were arguing Cowboys versus Texans.
Valerie glanced outside and shook her head.
"Thank God Rod isn't a Cowboys fan. I'd have to divorce him if he ever wore that damn star."
Tommi laughed. "It gets old pretty fast, but he's my guy, and I married into that shit."
A quiet pause. Tommi took a sip and then said, "So, your mom. Wow."
"Some things never change. I mean, I love her, but she is a tool, no question."
Valerie still hadn't told anyone, except Dog, about her degree. She thought she should tell Rod first, but worried about how he would take it.
A test run on Tommi might be just what I need.
"So, I got some good news today," she said.
Tommi's eyebrows rose. "Oh, sounds exciting. Spill it."
Val checked the balcony; the boys were deep in discussion about defensive backfield personnel. Turning back to Tommi, she lowered her voice and leaned in.
"I've been working on something for a while now. I started taking online classes at AGU a few years back."
Tommi's eyebrows raised.
"Today, I got the results of the final exams. Guess what?" Valerie's excitement grew with each word.
"What? Come on, spit it out," Tommi said, her curiosity piqued. "I passed." She paused for a reaction. Tommi just stared. "I passed! Tommi, I got my degree in accounting. I'm a fucking college graduate." She glowed as she said it.
Tommi squinted. "Wait a minute. What do you mean you got a degree?
How the hell did that happen?"
"I got tired of waiting around for things to change, you know, get better.
We're doing okay and everything—I mean, when Rod's got a gig, we always have enough, but when he doesn't... we scrape by. And we've been scraping by since we got married. So, it's taken me six years, and I found out this morning. Rod doesn't know yet."
"Holy shit! You spent six years hiding that you were going to school?
Whew," Tommi said with wonder. She looked at Val with concern. "Have things really been that bad?"
Valerie blushed. She had not meant to say that. Her relationship with her husband was just that, her relationship. She had never shared her feelings of discontent and dissatisfaction with anyone.
"It's not like it's bad; it's just stagnant. You know? He was so damn charming and fun when we met, but now it's like I have a roommate who expects his laundry to be done. And he's just so awful with money." She looked out at the balcony, and the football drone continued. "He just did this deck... he said he finished early, but I could tell by the way he was acting that he was probably fired. He had three or four more days, and he doesn't work that fast."
Tommi nodded, feeling her pain. She asked, "How do you think he's going to react to the college thing? That's pretty huge, Val."
"I'm kinda worried about it, to be honest. He never finished college. Once his knee went, and he lost his golf scholarship, he quit. I don't know how he's going to react. I've only told Dog at work. It feels really weird to say it. And you know what else?"
"Oh my God, there's more?" Tommi said.
"I graduated summa cum laude. That means I am in the top 5% of my class."
Val glowed.
Tommi took a second to digest this news. "That's amazing. I had no idea."
She scooted around the island and hugged Val. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"Hey, I love ya, but you talk too much." Valerie laughed. "You'd have told Mark, and then he'd tell Rod, and I just didn't want to deal with it. If I'd failed, he'd never let me forget it."
Just then, Rod and Mark walked in from the balcony.
"Okay, break it up in here. You girls look like you're having too much fun."
Mark's voice boomed. He let out a laugh.
Startled, Valerie jumped.
Why is he always so loud?
Val checked out Rod. There was no indication that he had overheard. Rod crossed to the refrigerator and pulled out two more beers. He tossed one to Mark, who tapped the pull tab with his index finger and popped the top. Valerie threw Tommi a look that said, "Don't say anything." Tommi nodded and left for the bathroom.
Rod continued the sports debate. "It's still bullshit. No way the Cowboys do jack. Not with that ownership."
Mark shook his head as he responded, "You just watch. My boys are coming through this year; I can feel it. It's our turn!"
Returning from the bathroom, Tommi climbed up on the kitchen stool, using the chair rail to help her. It made Rod smirk.
"Jesus, Tommi, if you were any shorter, we'd be able to use you like a golf tee."
Mark chortled. "For some things, she's the perfect height." He dropped his gaze to his crotch.
Tommi giggled and swatted at Mark. "Oh, stop."
The thing Valerie liked most about Tommi was her Pollyanna outlook. Everything seemed to be funny or amazing to her. And if things were not to her standards of frivolity, she did something to fix the situation. Like her boobs. She decided she wanted them bigger and just did it. However, while Tommi thought them very perky, they were out of proportion to her size, and the left one drooped a bit off-center. Because of her pride in her big breasts, she always wore tight-fitting or low-cut outfits. Rod continually talked about it.
With that thought crossing her mind, Valerie snuck a glance at Rod. Sure enough, she caught him staring down Tommi's cleavage. Oddly, as though he knew she might be looking, Rod's eyes snuck to Val. Valerie's nostrils flared as she threw Rod the stare.
"What?" Rod said, feigning innocence. He sat back on his stool with a smirk. Using two fingers, Valerie pointed at her eyes and then at Rod. Rod wiggled his head as though he hadn't done anything wrong.
Tommi chimed in, "I heard this phrase at work today. A couple of the younger girls were talking, and one of them asked about a body count. You ever hear that?" Her excitement level rose.
Rod laughed. "Yeah, mall shootings and such, right?" Valerie's eyes dropped to the ground as she let out an apologetic moan.
"Rod, really?"
Tommi grimaced. "No, of course not. Val, you ever hear that phrase?"
"Yeah, actually, some of the girls were talking about it." She turned to Mark and Rod. "Body count is the number of people you've slept with." Val let out a sly smirk, gratified that she knew a sex slang phrase they didn't.
Rod smirked at her and then looked at his buddy. Mark laughed, nodding his head, like he had known the answer all along.
Of course, you knew... not.
With false bravado, Mark boasted, "I was a college athlete, so my number might be unfair to compare with." Always boasting, eh, Mark.
Rod snorted and pushed Mark's shoulder. "Oh hell, you were a swimmer.
That doesn't count. It's not like you played ball or anything."
"It's better than being a golfer. Not sure they're even athletes." Tommi jumped in, "Swimmers have amazing bodies. I had me a swimmer at school before my first marriage." Glancing at Mark, her expression suggested they were exchanging a sexy secret.
"Oh, really? So, what's your body count, then, young lady?" Rod threw down the gauntlet as he gulped a swig of beer. Valerie glared at Rod.
Oh, let's not have this conversation.
Tommi snickered. "I'm almost embarrassed to say. But you have to understand, I started early, like at fourteen. I just didn't know any better. And Mark is my third husband, so..."
Mark said, with an inappropriate amount of pride, "Go ahead, tell 'em. He'll get it out of you sooner or later."
Tommi feigned shyness. "Okay... thirty-six." Mark laughed while Rod's eyes sprang open wide. He let out a wolf whistle.
Oh, Jesus!
A cold sweat broke out on Val's forehead.
Can I please just teleport the hell out of here?
Tommi followed up, feigning embarrassment, "I know, I know, but like I said, I started early. I got Connor from number five. I just wasn't paying attention to that contraception stuff." The two men laughed.
Mark shouted over the laughter, "So, I marry her and, bam, I got a twenty-year-old son! Go figure!"
Valerie looked away as she shifted in her seat.
Tommi turned to Mark, "Your turn, go ahead!" she broadcast to the others. "You won't believe this!"
Mark raised his head in a very cavalier fashion and, failing not to sound boastful, said, "Ninety-two."
Valerie gasped. She saw Tommi laughing with delight.
Holy shit. She seems so happy about that?
Rod scoffed at this proclamation.
"Bullshit! There's no way you fucked ninety-two women. You can't be serious."
"Serious as a face tattoo. I told ya, I was a college athlete. And at my school, they were all pretty easy. You didn't get a chance with these girls; you got a turn." Mark scoffed.
Tommi wiggled her eyebrows. "If I'm ever in the right mood, we'll get that number to an even 100." Mark and Tommi high-fived.
Oh, my God, Tommi?
This topic of conversation would never have been one that Valerie Stewart would have thought to participate in.
Oh, geez, they're gonna crucify me.
"For chrissake," Rod said, shaking his head. "Okay, then, I'll throw my number out there. It's not yours, but for a guy like me, I think I'm doing okay: twenty-three... so far."
Valerie threw him the death stare. "Don't you even go there, buster; till death do us part, remember? That would facilitate your death real fast." She got up with purpose and walked to the fridge. She didn't open it; she just needed to move away from the conversation.
Mark nodded in approval. "Yeah, rock star, that's respectable. Especially for someone who uses their personality as birth control."
Rod guffawed and gave Mark a shove. Mark gave a drunken shove back in that way guys do.
Please make this stop.
Tommi looked at Valerie. "You're pretty quiet over there, darlin.' Come on. Your turn. Fess up," Tommi teased.
Valerie put her glass down and started to clear the beer cans off the counter, her back to them.
Tommi teased, "So, what's the number?" Then she gasped. "Don't tell me it's higher than mine?" She kept pushing. "You were an athlete, right? Didn't you play volleyball?"
Rod jumped in. "Yeah, kinda. Didn't get a scholarship." Valerie countered with exaggerated force, "I got an offer. West Texas A&M.
But no one thought I should waste my time." She changed the subject. "You know what? This is a stupid game. Let's talk about something else."
Rod stood up. "You guys are not gonna believe this. Go on, tell 'em." Rod gave his head a pathetic shake.
Mark and Tommi started chanting, "Val-a-rie, Val-a-rie, Val-a-rie."
Val swept the beer cans into the recycle bin as the chanting continued. They got out of their seats and encircled her. Grabbing a wet dishrag, Val began to wipe the island counter, but wherever she moved, they would jump in front of her, laughing. Rod joined the chant.
"Val-a-rie, Val-a-rie, Val-a-rie."
Not knowing what to do, Valerie froze. She looked at Tommi, pleading with her eyes for her to move away from this topic. Tommi laughed as the chanting stopped and she became the ESPN golf announcer, holding an imaginary microphone. "Drum roll, please. We are about to get the body count numbers on Valerie Stewart..."
The two men started a verbal drum roll. Mark banged out a syncopated rhythm with his fingers on the countertop.
Val let out an exasperated sigh, then stared at the floor. Not having a choice, she said, "Three."
A shocked silence descended on the room.
Confused, Mark said, "Was that thirty?"
"No," Valerie said, a bit too loudly. "Three."
The room closed in. Their collective expressions embarrassed her. Her face flushed bright red.
Bewildered, Mark asked, "How is that even possible? I mean, you must have been a real hot chick when you were younger. How did you avoid having sex?"
"Can we talk about something else?" Valerie hurled the dishrag into the sink as she grabbed the trash bag out of the bin.
"See what I've been saying? It's like I married a virgin." Rod choked with laughter.
Valerie glared at Rod.
"I used to find you funny," she spat out.
Grabbing the trash bag, she marched to the front door and slammed it to the ground. Behind her, the snickers and jeers from her husband and friends stabbed at her like tiny, relentless needles.
Clenching her jaw, she forced herself to breathe, to stand tall. With resolve hardening inside her, she sneered in disgust—at them, at the situation. Shoulders squared, she stepped into the hallway.
I'm a summa cum laude college graduate, and this ridicule is going to stop
now.
"Fuck y'all!"
She stormed back into the kitchen. The three of them took one look at her expression and froze. "Okay, look. I married my high school sweetheart. He was my first. Then we split up. There was this one guy I dated for a few months, and we had sex a couple of times. But we broke up, too. Then, I met Rod, and there you go. Three."
Rod's lips pursed into a tight ball as he tossed an aside to Mark. "It explains a lot." A chortle burst out of him. "But no, really, hey, honey, it's fine. It's almost like you saved yourself for me. I think that's great," Rod said with forced sincerity hidden behind a snort of amazement.
Rod's teasing pushed Valerie over the edge. "I'm glad it's only three. I don't need to pile up a ton of numbers like all y'all. I'm proud that I've only had sex with three people, and two of them I was married to. It's special, and I'm glad that it's this way."
The three others nodded, momentarily accepting her point of view. Then Mark asked, "But aren't you curious? You hear about sex stuff all the time. I mean, sex with so few people. Aren't you all FOMO about it?"
Valerie scowled at Mark. Looking down at him, she said, "So, 92, is that right? Can you name them?"
Mark stammered, and then Valerie cut him off. "No, you can't. Just another notch on the old belt? Slam bam, thank you, ma'am? Big fucking deal." She spun around to Rod. "So, Rod, you dick swinger, who was the third girl you had sex with?"
Rod stammered and then, as he remembered, shouted as though he had won Wheel of Fortune, "That girl from the amusement park. She had curly brown hair and a limp."
Valerie scoffed, "And a limp? That's what you remember? But you don't know her name, right? Sounds like a meaningful relationship to me."
Valerie trampled through the three of them and toward the bedroom door, tears now in full flow. She stopped and turned to them. "I'm sorry if I'm not the slut that the rest of you are. You're not going to make me feel bad. I'm glad I'm like this, and I don't give a fuck what any of you think. I'm not living my life for any of you losers."
Storming into the bedroom, she slammed the door behind her.