Free The Perils of Pauline by Collette Yvonne Page A

sister’s children. Evan is reading at a grade ten level and he’s only in grade 5. Jordana is studying four languages: French, Spanish, Mandarin, and Arabic. I think she also translated the Dead Sea Scrolls recently, but I stopped paying attention so I could focus on fluffing up my hips with extra potato salad. I won’t mention that Serenity’sstandout talent is erotic lesbian spoken word poetry, Olympia is still working on two plus two, and Jack can do a rolling ollie on his skateboard now.
    Donald and I bunk down in the spare room on the bed with the rock hard mattress. I slide under the covers, grateful for my pillow, exhausted. Donald slips his hand under my nightgown. What? Birthday sex on a slab with a gut full of steak and potato salad, and the in-laws in the next room? Donald, you’re a fool.
     
    After the in-laws head home to Montreal, we all pile into Donald’s car to go across town to Mom’s for a birthday lunch. Donald is grumbling. “Can’t this wait? Our birthdays don’t actually happen until next week.”
    I try to explain: “She wants to give us our birthday presents early since she’s going away, plus she baked us a cake.”
    “We just had cake last night.”
    I roll my eyes. “Yes, I know. It really sucks to have to eat cake two days in a row.”
    Donald glares at me and then frowns when he sees George lunging into the back seat with the kids. Olympia has a lollipop in her mouth and Jack is busy munching his way through a bag of popcorn. Serenity and Shae borrowed my Jeep to go who knows where. Donald hates it when his unspoiled car gets spammed with dog hair and snack wrappers. He pauses in the driveway, saying, “I’m tired. Do you think you could drive?”
    As soon as I back onto the road, Donald pulls out his Blackberry and checks his messages.
    “I can imagine you must be totally worn out after two days of sitting out on the patio stuffing your face with steak sandwiches and chicken wings. I’d be weary too.”
    Donald glances up. “What do you mean?”
    “I just spent two solid days in the kitchen with your mother. Chopping vegetables and making spinach dip.”
    “I tried to help. She wouldn’t let me.”
    “That must’ve been terribly hard on you. Tell me, do you even remember what I bought to give to your mother for her birthday this year?”
    Donald presses his mouth into a tight line. What did Donald give me for my birthday? A garage door opener.
    “I bet you wouldn’t buy Lindsay a garage door opener.”
    “What are you talking about?”
    “You know what I’m talking about.”
    “No, I don’t. Let’s not do this now.”
    “When then? Can I make an appointment to talk to you? Sometime when you aren’t working late or having sleepovers with Lindsay?”
    Donald says nothing and stares out the passenger window.
    “Who’s Lindsay?” asks Olympia.
    “Daddy’s little friend at work.”
    Jack soon interrupts the stony silence portion of the quarrel to inquire if we will be getting a divorce and, if so, right on, since all the coolest kids come from broken homes plus they all get twice as much awesome stuff at Christmas and birthdays.
    “You want your father and me to get a divorce?”
    “No. I guess not. But Serenity always gets presents from her Dad and you guys and her Florida Nana too.”
    Olympia says, “The Florida Nana gave Serenity a purple cell phone.”
    We arrive in Mom’s driveway and the kids race ahead to her door. Donald and I remain in the car a moment to compose ourselves. Turning to him, I twist the corners of my lips up, and hiss through clenched teeth: “Smile and pretend, okay?”
    In the foyer, Donald maintains a wide bubble of space between us. I feel like popping him with a pointy stick. “Excuse me, honey,” I say as I step past him into the living room, while tossing him an unhoneyed glance.
    Mom’s eyebrows rise. Somehow, we’re already busted, but she says nothing.
    We follow Mom outside to sit on her back deck and open our