The Secret Desires of a Soccer Mom Read Online Free PDF Page A

age-appropriate
clothing, we set off. Trudy lived a block and a half away. Spencer spent that
entire block and a half trying to convince me to piggy-back him because his
legs were sooooo tired. My son had a slight build and was a little small
for his age, but I was not up to lugging an extra forty-eight pounds on my
back. With much whining (Spencer), and pouting (Chloe), we finally reached
Trudy’s spacious, nouveau-Victorian home.
    “Hello!” My friend opened the door before we’d rung the
bell. The smell of fresh bead wafted out behind her.
    “Hi!” I pecked her cheek. “It smells great in here.”
    Trudy leaned over and, adopting her former-preschool-teacher
voice, greeted my children. “Hello, kids. Chloe, you look more grown up every
time I see you. And aren’t you getting to be a big boy, Mr. Spencer Bo-Pencer!”
    “Hi,” the kids mumbled. “Yeah.”
    “Calvin! Emily! Chloe and Spencer are here!”
    With much thudding and racket, Trudy’s children lumbered up
the stairs from their basement playroom.
    “Hi guys!” I said, with forced enthusiasm. Trudy was always
so sweet to my kids that I would have hated for her to figure out that I wasn’t
all that fond of hers.
    Emily addressed me. “Cameron thinks you’re really a man
because your hair looks like Prince Charming’s and you have no boobies.”
    Did I say I wasn’t fond of them? I meant I hated them.
    “Why don’t you kids go down to the playroom?” Trudy interjected.
“I’ll have a special snack for you in a little while.”
    Trudy led the way through her pristine grand entryway, past
the formal living room, burgeoning with family photos in silver frames and
enormous flower arrangements, and into her French country-style kitchen.
    Carly and Karen were seated at the oval kitchen table,
steaming mugs of coffee before them. They greeted me in unison.
    “How are you?” I hugged them each briefly then took my seat
at one end. It was the first time I had seen Karen since she’d admitted her
affair. I felt a little awkward: Was I staring at her too long? Was I not
looking at her enough? Was my discomfort evident to Trudy and Carly?
    Trudy poured me a cup of coffee. “We’ll just wait for Jane
and the girls, and then we can have some warm cinnamon buns.”
    Carly laughed. “Like Jane would eat a cinnamon bun!” Carly
was what you’d call Rubenesque —or else, chubby, depending on how kind
you were. She’d obviously found a lot of solace in food when her husband left
her. Who could blame her? I’d been known to spend a few lonely nights curled up
with a pint of Haagen Dasz, myself.
    “Jane does watch her figure,” Trudy acquiesced.
    “I’ll say,” I added.
    Karen changed the subject. “These flowers are gorgeous,
Trudy.” She leaned forward and inhaled the fragrance of the burgeoning bouquet
of pink lilies, gerber daisies, freesia and miniature roses serving as the
table’s center piece.
    “Aren’t they lovely? Carly brought them,” Trudy explained.
    “You’re always so thoughtful,” Karen said.
    Carly shrugged and waved away the compliment. “Well… it’s
just so sweet of Trudy to invite us all over here today. How often do we get
homemade cinnamon buns?”
    “So…” I cleared my throat nervously. “How has everyone
been?” Part of me hoped that Karen would be unable to refrain from crying out
“Fantastic! I’m having the best sex of my life with a hot Spanish barista!” I
would have felt much more comfortable if her secret was out in the open.
    But before Karen could speak, the doorbell rang. Trudy
bustled to greet Jane and her entourage, and escorted them into the kitchen.
“Hello, everyone!” Jane breezed in, in a cloud of Bobbi Brown Baby. She was
trailed by her two daughters, in matching pink twin sets and white jeans, and
the statuesque Becca. She air-kissed each of us before taking a seat to my
right. “You all know Becca, don’t you?”
    Since Jane went virtually nowhere without her, we all