Free People I Want to Punch in the Throat by Jen Mann Page B

can follow any kind of dietary restrictions you might have, and we can put Barbie away if you think she’s not a positive body image role model for girls. My son, Gomer, is having a friend over on Friday, and Adolpha wants to have Evelyn come, too. She would like a friend, and she would like Evelyn to be that friend.”
    “Your son and another boy will be there, too?” she asked.
    “Yes,” I said, getting my hopes up. Would that make a difference?
    “I’m very uncomfortable letting Evelyn be alone around older boys.”
    Older boys? “Gomer’s six.”
    “Plus, now that’s four children you would need to get out in the event of a fire.”
    Motherf—
    “Okay. How about this? How about you and Evelyn come over? I’ll make some coffee and I’ll buy some muffins and we can chat and you can get to know me while Adolpha and Evelyn play where we can see them in a match-free environment while the boys play up in Gomer’s room and never come near the girls,” I offered helpfully.
    “I’m not comfortable with that, either,” she said. “That means both Evelyn and I would be in a stranger’s home.”
    Oh, for fuck’s sake, lady! You’re killing me!
    I was at my wits’ end. I just wanted a friend for Adolpha. This was getting ridiculous. What did this woman want from me?
    “All right, then you tell me what you are comfortable with. Adolpha would like to play with Evelyn outside school. How do you usually make that happen?”
    This was my last attempt. If this didn’t work, I was going to tell the woman to go fuck herself.
    “We don’t. Evelyn only plays with people I know. And I don’t know you .”
    I looked at Adolpha, who was ready to cry, and so was I. What a fucking bitch. Who treats people like this? Somehow I missed the news bulletin about the suburban moms who lure other suburban moms into their homes, dope them with tainted coffee, and then steal their internal organs to sell on the black market.
    What was this woman’s problem? We are all wary of strangers and concerned about where our kids are going and whom they will be with, but this woman was taking it entirely too far. If she didn’t want her kid to go to a stranger’s house, then get to know me at least so I’m not a stranger anymore. At least offer to meet me at a fast-food playland and risk a staph infection and have a cup of coffee!
    It wasn’t just Adolpha looking for a friend. I was hoping to find another mom or two that I could relate to. I’d love to have a friend or two to hang out with while our girls trash my house. Obviously this woman was not going to make the cut and receive the other half of my BFF necklace.
    I didn’t know what her problem was. Maybe she truly was afraid of strangers. If she was that afraid, then she needed professionalhelp. Also, she needed to figure out a nicer, kinder way to explain her phobias, because I couldn’t help but take it personally. She didn’t want to go to my crappy tinderbox of a house and be exposed to my predatory son and his friend. And worst of all, she didn’t want her daughter to be friends with my daughter.
    “You know what?” I said to her. “You’re right, you don’t know me, and let’s keep it that way, because I’m exhausted by you. I don’t want to know you and hear about your fire safety drills and whatever else keeps you up at night. But the one who is really missing out is Evelyn. Adolpha is the kind of friend everyone wishes for. She is fiercely loyal, funny, and a little bit zany. Your kid would be lucky to have Adolpha in her life, but she missed that chance because her mother is a lunatic.”
    I threw my nose in the air, grabbed Adolpha’s hand, and stormed off toward my car praying to God that I didn’t stumble in a pothole and embarrass myself any more than I already had. “Don’t worry, Adolpha,” I whispered. “I will be your best friend.”
    “But you’re so old,” she whined.
    “Yeah, but I have money. I take my best friends shopping. Let’s go