The Wine Woman

-- This one was cut from "Whatever It Takes," but hopefully it'll be revived for a church fund raiser I'm doing. That's right, a fund-raiser...for a church. --

Andrea’s little girl calls me the wine woman. She’s told Andrea that the reason she calls me that is because every time she sees me I’m holding wine in my hand. Andrea insists that no matter how many times she tells her daughter that referring one of my Mommy’s best friends—her only friend—as ‘the wine woman’ is impolite, her daughter refuses to call me anything else. When I ask if her daughter has this problem with some of Andrea’s other acquaintances—acquaintances, not friends—for example, does she call Marla the obese lady, or Tina the adulterous female, Andrew just does that thing with her mouth where she’s upset and befuddled at the same time, so I end up just changing the subject. To be honest, I’m surprised little Kristina doesn’t refer to Andrea as the lonely spinster, rather than Mommy, since she certainly is more one than the other. Andrea has three caretakers for little Kristina. Three. Bob and I had the two of us, plus Angela, who I referred to as Angela who refuses to be called Angela. And as just about everyone knows, I could have replaced Angela with a rabid Saint Bernard for all the good she did with Lucy and Lila. Andrea has caretakers coming in and out of her home so often, I’m sure there are times when the neighbors wonder if she ever actually gave birth to little Kristina, or if all these blandly decorated women is yet another nurse come to see if she’s breached yet. It doesn’t help that Andrea does not let Kristina out of the house for any reason except to come visit Auntie Wine Woman. Then we’re forced to temper our discussions and watch our language as Little Kristina can’t be let out of her mother’s sight. The poor thing just sits on the chaise for hours; her only entertainment being my purse. I allow her to play with whatever she wants inside it as long as she doesn’t lose any of my birth control pills. The last thing I need is another set of twins destroying the body that took yoga and Dr. Rosenbaum three years to reconstruct after the two identical hellions burst forth from me like Athena from Zeus’ hip—chariot and all. Andrea usually sits and cries with me about Phillip. When will he be back, she wonders out loud, right with his little spawn sitting there two feet from her applying my lipstick to her elbow. I have a sneaking suspicion that Kristina is developmentally challenged, but it’s not a concern I make it a point to voice. When, when, she asks, pleadingly, in that shrill upper register of hers. I’m then forced to pat her back and allow her to cry all over me. Despite the fact that I go rigid the minute her mascara starts to run, she doesn’t seem to pick up on the idea that I’m uncomfortable with situations like this. Bob and I rarely get emotional with each other, and when we do it’s only in the presence of a trained therapist and/or security guard in close proximity. I tell Andrea that she should have convinced Phillip to go to therapy, but apparently when he found out he couldn’t take his brass knuckles into the sessions with him, that was the end of that. Now there’s no telling when or if he’ll ever return from North Dakota. That’s right, you heard me. Andrea’s been left for a state that amounts to a little more than a nuclear waste site. It must be like being left for a one-legged woman or someone who won’t wear make-up before noon. I can’t help but ask myself, was she really that bad? Don’t ask me what I was thinking, but I’ve agreed to baby-sit little Kristina while Andrea flies to North Dakota and attempts to bring Phillip back home. Bob and I are calling it Mission: Find Dopey, and it usually gives us a good giggle to say it after dinner when we’ve had a few glasses. Kristina still calls me the wine woman, no matter how many times I remind her that I’m doing her mommy a very big favor by allowing her to stay in my linen closet while Mommy finds Daddy in the barren wasteland near the mountain with Washington and the other three Presidents on it. It doesn’t stop her. And now she says it so gleefully and with such affection, that I barely even correct her anymore. Some roles just take time to settle into, I suppose.