Learning Curves - By Elyse Mady Page 0,21

effort into meeting a man now, all the good ones will be gone.”

“I don’t want to—”

“So, I’ll pick you up at seven-thirty and we can—”

“Mom,” Leanne shouted into the phone. Despite the miles between them, she could hear her mother’s startled exclamation at the disruption. “I’m not coming with you to Marjorie’s party.”

Silence met her pronouncement. It didn’t matter how many times Leanne told her mother that she was satisfied with her life; nothing she said ever seemed to sink in. Life, according to Sandra Galloway, was meant to be lived in pairs. Life outside of a couple, therefore, was not to be considered.

Yet a treacherous part of Leanne’s psyche couldn’t help but wonder if settling for contentment was enough. She wasn’t interested in living life according to her mother’s restrictive rules but surely even she deserved more than just that. Didn’t she deserve happiness too? And what about love?

But before she could ponder that startling notion any further, her mother interjected once again.

“Really? And why is that, pray tell?”

“I—I have plans.”

“A date?”

“No, not exactly but—”

“Not exactly? What does that mean? You either do or you don’t.”

“What I mean to say is…I’ve got tickets that night. For a performance,” Leanne said. “Modern dance.”

“Modern dance? Since when do you like modern dance? And more importantly, are you going with anyone?”

“Well, actually,” Leanne lied without a qualm, padding through the apartment with the phone tucked under her ear, “I just got the tickets this afternoon. In fact, I was going to call you and see if you wanted to come. I know how much you appreciate the arts.” Perched on the side of her bed, she peeled off her wet socks and tossed them in the hamper.

“Yes, I’ve always had a keen eye for that sort of thing,” her mother preened. “But there’s just no way I can. I’ve already promised Marjorie I’d bring my macadamia nut bars to her party. She’s counting on me.”

One handed, Leanne fished a dry pair of jeans and another pair of socks from her dresser and made a commiserating noise. “Oh, well, it sounds like it just isn’t going to work then but maybe another time—”

“What about your father?”

“Dad?” Leanne was so surprised her mother had even suggested it, she nearly dropped her change of clothes. Goodness knows Sandra Galloway had dragged her long-suffering husband to many a cultural event over the years, all in her quest to “improve herself” and meet the right sort of people. Her dad on the other hand was as happy to stay home and retreat to the comfort of his state-of-the-art, the-Starship-Enterprise-ain’t-got-nothing-on-it media room and watch the Golf Network on TV as he was going out on the town to a show.

“Yes, your father. Besides, I don’t want him sitting home, all by himself while I’m out Wednesday night. He’ll get lonely.”

Leanne smiled at the image her mother painted. If she knew her father, he’d relish a few hours of peace and quiet without the constant flow of conversation that emanated from her mother from the moment she awoke until the minute she laid her well-coifed head down on her color-coordinated, 400-count Egyptian cotton sleep set.

The sound of the receiver being set down was followed by her mother’s muffled shout. “Larry! Pick up the phone. It’s Leanne and she wants to talk to you about going to see the ballet.”

A pause and then another click as her father picked up the extension. From the background noise, Leanne’s guess about her father relaxing in the media room with the sports network on wasn’t far off. She smiled. Some things never changed.

“Hello, darling,” her father said in his low, soft voice. “What’s this I hear about me watching men in tights?”

“Not tights.” Leanne laughed. “I was invited to see a student production of modern dance at the university. Someone I know is choreographing it,” she said, feeling a twinge of guilt at her attempts to stretch the truth. But it was a simple white lie. The alternative was explaining to her father that the choreographer was actually a one-night stand she’d picked up on a lark at the local strip club. There were some things her dad was simply better off not knowing. Clearing her throat, she continued, “So I have two tickets. Would you like to come?”

“Why not ask your mother?”

“She can’t. Marjorie’s home party is the same night.”

“Oh, I see. But are you sure you can’t find someone else you’d rather go with?”

Suddenly, Leanne found herself overwhelmed by a desire