The Bachelorette Party by Karen McCullah Lutz Page A

to knock on the door when she was accosted by two small creatures wearing clown wigs and tiaras. Dorian’s children. They came bolting out of the house and wrapped themselves around Zadie’s shins.
    “Josh! Lissy! Let Miss Zadie come in the house.” Dorian slumped against the door frame in her terry-cloth sweatsuit, looking tired and annoyed. She’d looked that way since the day these two endless sources of energy and mayhem had shot out of her. As soon as they disengaged, Zadie stepped around them and headed toward the kitchen.
    “They keep getting bigger.”
    “Maybe I should stop feeding them.” Dorian picked some Play-Doh out of her hair and opened the wine, pouring them two glasses. Zadie sat down at the kitchen table, pushing aside the crayons and headless Barbies. The kids went careening into the playroom, presumably to change costumes.
    “So, did I tell you Grey and Helen are getting married?”
    Dorian set down her wineglass in mid-sip. “Uh, no … Are you okay with that?”
    “I’m not sure I have a choice.”
    “That’s so rude of them.” Dorian was always good at reframing any event to make it seem like a slight. “How are you supposed to hang out with Grey if they’re living in the same house? She’ll always be there.”
    “Yeah, that’s occurred to me.”
    “No wonder you’re depressed.” Dorian spooned a piece of cork out of her wine and looked at Zadie with concern.
    “Am I depressed?” Zadie asked. “I hadn’t noticed.”
    “You didn’t return my calls, so you damn well better be depressed.” She got up from the table to pull the lasagna out of the
oven. “Shit. I burned it. We’ll just have to eat around the crusty parts.”
    Dan walked in, one of the twins attached to his back, the other wrapped around his waist like a belt. “Do I smell dinner?” Dan was one of those guys the word “strapping” was intended to describe. He leaned down to kiss Zadie on the cheek. “How was traffic?”
    “Fine.” Zadie never understood the male fascination with traffic.
    Dorian looked at Dan and motioned with her head toward the kids. “Get them in their seats. The sooner they eat, the sooner we can get them in the bath.”
    Now that Zadie looked closer, she could see that Lissy was covered in Magic Marker. And Josh had some foreign substance on his face that she didn’t have the stomach to identify. Dan peeled the children off his body and got them in their seats as Dorian spooned out the charred lasagna. Josh stared at Zadie. Clearly bothered by something. “What’s on your eyes?”
    Zadie had no idea. Had a bird shit on her?
    Dorian stepped in to explain. “It’s makeup, honey.” She looked at Zadie and shrugged. “He never sees me with it on.” Given the criminal amount of eyeliner Dorian used to wear in high school, Zadie found this amusing.
    “So, Zadie. How’re things at school? Any rotten kids this year?” Dan was always so polite. He couldn’t possibly care about her class, but he always asked.
    “Can’t say anything too bad about them. They’re all pretty well behaved. And they have really good drugs, so that’s always a plus.” She was kidding, but as soon as it came out of her mouth, she wanted to grab it back.
    “Mommy, what’s ‘drugs’?” Lissy asked.
    “It’s a grown-up thing, Lissy. Miss Zadie was just making a grown-up joke.” Dorian gave her a look like “Zip it on the grown-up jokes.” “Why don’t you tell Miss Zadie about your dance recital?”
    Oh, yes. Please do.
    “I’m going to be a ballerina.”
    “That’s great, Lissy. What color is your tutu?” How many times in life do you get to ask someone what color their tutu is? She’d best make use of this opportunity
    “Pink!”
    “Will you show me your dance?”
    Lissy got up and twirled, despite the fact that she was holding a forkful of lasagna, which was now all over the kitchen.
    Dan bent down to wipe it up. “I got it.” He was a good dad. And a good husband. Dorian