Read Online A Bump in the Road by Maureen Lipinski - Free Book Online
Authors: Maureen Lipinski
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today don’t appreciate nature the way they did and how our society’s tolerance of gays will bring us eternal suffering in the afterlife.
I also saw enough kids to fill a day care center, running around and beating each other with sticks.
I’m so lucky. I get to spend the weekend with old farts and a bunch of kids.
And Marianne.
I got out of the car cautiously, like an animal testing its surroundings. One of the stick children spotted us and ran over to the old people.
“SOME WEIRD PEOPLE ARE HERE!”
Marianne saw us and ran over.
“Welcome, Mr. and Mrs. Grandalski!”
“Marianne, it’s still Finnegan.”
She tittered. “Oh, you modern girls! I just don’t know what todo with you! You know, in my day, there wasn’t such a thing as a stay-at-home mom or a stay-at-home wife. You were just a wife and a mother. Your family was your priority, you know. Not your career, you know.”
Another “In My Day” story. She forgets she’s the same age as my mother, the bra-burning, protest-attending, card-carrying member of NOW.
“Er, uh, yeah! Hello to you, too. Where’s Natalie?”
“Oh, she’s lying down in the cabin. She has terrible morning sickness. You know, her pregnancy is considered high-risk.”
Yeah, probably because she could stand to lose a couple hundred pounds.
“That’s too bad.”
“Yes, dear. I’ve really had to be there for her lately. You know, since her own relationship with her mother is not so strong. She’s really become the daughter I’ve never had.”
“Where’s Doug again?” Jake asked.
“On a business trip,” she said.
Right. He probably just wanted a weekend away from his wife. I’m sticking to my theory that when Doug proposed he was either (a) severely wasted, or (b) a contestant on an unaired reality show.
We made our way past the children accosting each other with lumber, who are apparently all Jake’s third cousins or something, and over to the old people. After a quick hello, I settled down into a folding soccer chair and within sixty seconds a gross beetle thing landed on my boob. I screamed and jumped up, frantically trying to bat it off my chest. Jake came over and knocked it off. All the little kids, watching me very intently, exploded in laughter because I yelled, “Get it off! Get it off! It’s on my BOOB!” while flailing around as though on fire.
I decided five minutes of nature was enough and Marianne showed me the way to our cabin.
I pushed the door open and immediately saw Natalie inside, sprawled out on the couch, moaning.
“Well, hi! How are you? How are you feeling?”
“Oh, hello, Clare.” She didn’t look thrilled to see me.
“How’s my sweet girl doing?” Marianne asked.
“Horrible. I have excruciating gas pains.”
Jake walked in behind us. “So, is this our place? Hey, Natalie,” he said.
She responded by farting.
“Yes, it is,” I said, a little too quickly.
There was a long awkward pause as we all stood there, shoulder-to-shoulder in the tiny space, silent except for Natalie’s ass.
“Well, we should go,” Jake said, and practically shoved me out the door.
Marianne followed us out and a thought suddenly occurred to me.
“Marianne, where are we supposed to sleep? I saw the futon and the loft with the air mattress but what about us?”
Her mouth twitched. “Well, the table and benches fold into a bed.”
Yes, the table and benches MacGyver their way into a bed. A bed I am expected to sleep in with a six-three man for two nights. It is such bullshit. The futon was supposed to be ours and that bitch Natalie is sprawled out on it like a princess while Jake and I sleep on a table. She wasn’t even supposed to come this weekend but Jake’s brother had to torture all of us by going out of town knowing his fat pregnant wife can’t possibly be alone for more than an hour.
“Maybe Natalie could sleep on it since there’s two of us?” I suggested.
Marianne looked surprised. “Clare, she’s preparing for
I also saw enough kids to fill a day care center, running around and beating each other with sticks.
I’m so lucky. I get to spend the weekend with old farts and a bunch of kids.
And Marianne.
I got out of the car cautiously, like an animal testing its surroundings. One of the stick children spotted us and ran over to the old people.
“SOME WEIRD PEOPLE ARE HERE!”
Marianne saw us and ran over.
“Welcome, Mr. and Mrs. Grandalski!”
“Marianne, it’s still Finnegan.”
She tittered. “Oh, you modern girls! I just don’t know what todo with you! You know, in my day, there wasn’t such a thing as a stay-at-home mom or a stay-at-home wife. You were just a wife and a mother. Your family was your priority, you know. Not your career, you know.”
Another “In My Day” story. She forgets she’s the same age as my mother, the bra-burning, protest-attending, card-carrying member of NOW.
“Er, uh, yeah! Hello to you, too. Where’s Natalie?”
“Oh, she’s lying down in the cabin. She has terrible morning sickness. You know, her pregnancy is considered high-risk.”
Yeah, probably because she could stand to lose a couple hundred pounds.
“That’s too bad.”
“Yes, dear. I’ve really had to be there for her lately. You know, since her own relationship with her mother is not so strong. She’s really become the daughter I’ve never had.”
“Where’s Doug again?” Jake asked.
“On a business trip,” she said.
Right. He probably just wanted a weekend away from his wife. I’m sticking to my theory that when Doug proposed he was either (a) severely wasted, or (b) a contestant on an unaired reality show.
We made our way past the children accosting each other with lumber, who are apparently all Jake’s third cousins or something, and over to the old people. After a quick hello, I settled down into a folding soccer chair and within sixty seconds a gross beetle thing landed on my boob. I screamed and jumped up, frantically trying to bat it off my chest. Jake came over and knocked it off. All the little kids, watching me very intently, exploded in laughter because I yelled, “Get it off! Get it off! It’s on my BOOB!” while flailing around as though on fire.
I decided five minutes of nature was enough and Marianne showed me the way to our cabin.
I pushed the door open and immediately saw Natalie inside, sprawled out on the couch, moaning.
“Well, hi! How are you? How are you feeling?”
“Oh, hello, Clare.” She didn’t look thrilled to see me.
“How’s my sweet girl doing?” Marianne asked.
“Horrible. I have excruciating gas pains.”
Jake walked in behind us. “So, is this our place? Hey, Natalie,” he said.
She responded by farting.
“Yes, it is,” I said, a little too quickly.
There was a long awkward pause as we all stood there, shoulder-to-shoulder in the tiny space, silent except for Natalie’s ass.
“Well, we should go,” Jake said, and practically shoved me out the door.
Marianne followed us out and a thought suddenly occurred to me.
“Marianne, where are we supposed to sleep? I saw the futon and the loft with the air mattress but what about us?”
Her mouth twitched. “Well, the table and benches fold into a bed.”
Yes, the table and benches MacGyver their way into a bed. A bed I am expected to sleep in with a six-three man for two nights. It is such bullshit. The futon was supposed to be ours and that bitch Natalie is sprawled out on it like a princess while Jake and I sleep on a table. She wasn’t even supposed to come this weekend but Jake’s brother had to torture all of us by going out of town knowing his fat pregnant wife can’t possibly be alone for more than an hour.
“Maybe Natalie could sleep on it since there’s two of us?” I suggested.
Marianne looked surprised. “Clare, she’s preparing for
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