"There's an open road that leads nowhere, so just make some miles between here and there."*

Evil Woman Part VI

     This is the second-to-last in the Evil Woman series, and I'm sure it makes all of you sad. It makes me sad, because I have lots of other good dish on Beth that didn't even make it into the New York trip because it happened...duh duh duh...in Los Angeles. But I'll get to that another time. And her name's not really Beth and there's just so much so much good good dirt (and no, I'm not stuttering).

     For those new to this, it's number six in a very long series of episodic work the like of which the world has not seen since Charles Dickens. And he got paid per word, so one wonders why I'm such a blabbermouth, since I do this shit for free. But the previous installments can be found as follows: one, two, three, four and five.

Yet again, my journal from 2009 opens itself to you, dear reader:

-Sophie slept well through the night despite having a stuffy nose. She snored, though, and ground her teeth. I love when she stays awake screaming and crying all night and when I tell Beth about it in the morning, she says, “Oh, poor Sophie. I hope she’ll have a nice long nap this afternoon.” I’d adore a nice long nap as, I’m sure, would Lucia, but I feel super bad for THE INFANT who sleeps 90% of every day. Poor thing must be exhausted from all that eating and pooping.

-We again went nowhere today. Beth and John took Conor to Toys R Us AGAIN and then to lunch at Serendipity. Lucia and I took turns running out for a half-hour or so. That was nice—it really broke up the day and made it seem like it was going faster. 

Augustus Gloop. My second Willy Wonka Reference (weird?).

-Lucia and I both realized that we’ve lost weight, but we were both pretty surprised. I don’t know why she was surprised, since she’s eaten barely anything in the time we’ve been here. But I was surprised because I’ve eaten like a freaking hippo since we arrived on account of all the junk Beth keeps around and buys perpetually—we’re talking bags of caramel popcorn, pretzels, black and white cookies from the deli every day, cake from fancy restaurants and from the hotel staff, huge bags of junk from Dylan’s Candy Bar, Toys R Us, FAO Schwartz etc. I think she's one of those anorexics who gets off on watching other people eat. I asked one night for a bite of dark chocolate—maybe a Hershey bar. She came home with five different kinds of dark chocolate candy bars. And yes, they’re all gone. I ate four and Lucia ate one. Actually just thinking about it makes me sick. I remind myself of Augustus Gloop—my face smeared in chocolate, eating my pain. Which is what I’m doing. Normally I would drink my pain, but for obvious reasons I can’t on this trip. And you know, it hasn’t been so bad. I’m rather pleased with myself. It could be part of the reason I’ve lost some weight, but considering how much crap I’ve eaten in substitution—or from plain boredom—it seems unlikely that it makes any difference at all. I should’ve spent this last 10 days doing a cleanse. I really could have lost weight and Beth would’ve been ecstatic that she didn’t have to pay for me to eat.

-Lucia told me that when I was in New York with my mom last month and she was working all those extra hours covering for me, Beth was writing her a check at the end of the week and the total came to $400.75. And Beth said, “You’ve worked so hard this week, honey. I’m going to give you a little extra.” Lucia was so excited until she drove home and looked at her check. Beth had written it for $401. What a generous woman! Lucia told me if she’d noticed it she would have said, “Beth, you can keep your quarter.”

Elton John: the original Lady Gaga.

-They went to a Broadway show—Billy Elliot—and I was really excited for them. When I asked Beth about it in the car, she managed to brag about how it was sold out but since they “know Elton” they were able to score seats. I said, “Oh, did he write the music?” and Beth said yes but then proceeded to try to drop a little more bullshit. “One time, we went to see Elton's show in Vegas with Rob Roth, and we were backstage and he was going on and on about how much he loved this song that Rob had written. I mean, he just kept saying, ‘I love your song! I listened to it a hundred times today!’ over and over.” I waited for there to be a story, but alas, that was the story. She was just bragging. Fun. And who the hell is Rob Roth? Am I missing something? (Okay, he might be a big deal. He has a webpage. We all know that takes a lot of clout.)

-Unfortunately, though the kids were exhausted, Beth called at 11 and told us to keep them awake so Mommy and Daddy could put them to bed. They were cranky and tired when Beth and John finally rolled in at 11:30, and of course that was our fault. 

*Lyrics from ELO's "Evil Woman".

"It's so good that you're feeling pain, but you better get yourself on board the very next train."*

Evil Woman Part V

           The never-ending saga of my trip to New York City with the middle-aged famous "musician" and his beastly wife twenty years his junior goes on. If you are new to this story, please find the previous installments here, here, here, and again here. 

From computer diary entries written in 2009:

-Monday

-Do not leave the hotel all day because Conor is sick. Just like Lucia’s been sick for days, but unlike Conor, she didn’t get to be sick in a bed. All she got were couch cushions on the floor.

-I mention I like doing laundry and that it is the only chore that gives me a sense of satisfaction. So Beth gives me a shirt to clean. Isn’t that sweet? I wish she’d quit spoiling me!

Tuesday

-Lucia tells me a story in front of Beth and I ask about the story using the word “murder” (it was a story about a murder!) and Beth snaps at me in such a way that I can’t help it—I start tearing up. She says in her serpentine, litigator hiss, “I am really not okay with those words! Don’t ever use those words around them!” 

-I try to control myself but the tears start coming, and I have to leave the room. I really don’t want Beth to have my tears. Part of me knows I’m crying because I’m tired and afraid of her and tired of being afraid of her, but I have to cry a little.

-Beth apologizes for snapping at me saying, “You didn’t know. I’ve never told you before that I don’t like those words. “Murder” and “kill” are just not okay with me. Something can “die” but the action of murder just isn’t okay.” It seems like a mostly semantic argument, but I understand the point, I guess. I just didn’t need to be snarled at. And it’s odd to me that treating human beings like garbage in front of your children is acceptable, but using words like “murder” and “death” is verboten.

-We go to the Children’s Museum of Manhattan. Beth asks the driver to stop in front of the Dakota (knowing my obsession with all things John Lennon related) on the way so I can look at it, but I’m too cowed by Beth to bother to get out of the car. I look out the side of the window and thank her for stopping (it’s on the way to the museum). She asks if I’m sure I don’t want to get out of the car, but I don’t want to end up owing her anything, so I stay put.

The Dakota. John Lennon lived and was killed here.

-Lucia and I are made to wait in the lobby of the museum with the baby because Beth doesn’t want to pitch an extra $20 so we can look around too. She says it’s because they might make us check the stroller by the door and Sophie’s sleeping. I’m sure that’s it. It’s not that she’s an unbelievable skinflint or anything.

-Sophie’s stale bagel falls on the floor. I pick it up and give it back to her. I feel very evil about that, but I also feel that germs are important. She'll probably be eating gold the rest of her life, so it's good to build up resistance to germs now.

- We eat at Artie's Deli and Conor throws a pickle at my face. He starts laughing maniacally and I can tell that Beth is trying her best not to join him. It would be funny if I didn’t have the feeling I was in an alternate universe and might actually be able to murder a child. (And would the act of murder make Beth as mad as the word does?) I get up and walk Sophie around the restaurant. Lucia eats quickly and comes to replace me, but I tell her to go back and enjoy her meal—neither one of us has had a chance to sit down and eat an entire meal in over a week. And I don’t want to be around Conor. Or Beth. 

Artie's Deli. Where I decided I didn't care anymore.

-Beth finds us after 10 minutes or so. She apologizes for Conor. Beth is worried now—I can tell. She wasn’t sure how Conor's behavior had affected me. She’s been really nice to me all night. The part I don’t understand is why she didn’t reprimand her child for throwing food at another person—an adult, no less. The other thing I realize is that as long as I can get a flight home, I really don't care what happens to me anymore. I'm feeling more clearheaded than I've felt in years, somehow.

*ELO's Evil Woman.

"But a fool and his money soon go separate ways, and you found a fool lying in a daze."*

Evil Woman Part II.

            This is continued from my earlier post, which you can find here, in which I describe my glamorous journey to New York City with an aging rock star and his evil young bride.

            Continued from my journal of 2009:

-We walk over to FAO Schwartz and Beth buys a bag of candy—at this point I’m so sticky and wet I’m making a conscious effort to widen my stride. (I know, it’s gross. Forgive me, especially if you happen to be a man and can’t handle hearing about these kind of realities.)

- I make several comments in the course of the day’s outing to the effect of “I feel really gross” and “I have to buy some tampons…and underwear,” and Beth keeps saying cheerfully that she fully plans to stop at Duane Reade on our way home. I don’t understand why I couldn’t have run off and done it while they were at the toy store (or at any other point) but I think I forfeited my complaining rights when I slept those two hours this morning instead of playing peek-a-boo with Sophie (like I did all night long).

-We do FINALLY stop at Duane Reade and I buy, on accident, the largest underwear I've ever seen in my life. I mean, these go up to my boobs. But who cares? I buy other (clearly) mentionables and when we get back to the hotel I feel better than I've felt in ages.

Heaven?

-John and Beth take Conor to dinner somewhere nice and leave us to watch Sophie. Beth gives us money to buy dinner—telling us that one of us should run out and get it. I volunteer because I am so excited to have a few minutes to myself.  So I ask the concierge where to go and he sends me out the back of the hotel onto 58^th and I walked half a block to the deli on 7^th avenue.

-I contrive (somewhat unintentionally) to spend the entire $50 bill Beth had given me. But mostly, I just didn’t know what to get for Lucia. She’s a bit of a picky eater and she doesn’t tell me much about what she wants. So I fill three containers with different kinds of salads, potatoes, chicken, ribs—all kinds of yummy stuff. I really like walking around New York by myself. I wish I had more time to do it.

-My bag finally arrives at about 9:45 pm. I am so happy.

-John rather discourteously, and with many a disgusted gesture and facial expression, says I should clean up the dinner dishes and put them outside for housekeeping. I start crying (no one sees but Lucia).

-Wednesday morning at 7:30, after another wakeful night, Sophie wakes up. I try repeatedly to get her to go back to sleep, but no good. It’s probably because she hasn’t pooped since Monday morning and it is now Wednesday morning. I would most likely be crying too. I did bang my head against the bars of her crib again in exhausted frustration, but believe me: it didn’t solve anything.

-At nine a.m., Beth comes to get her for nursing. I tell Beth to bring her back when she’s ready for me to take over and I lay back down. I sleep until 10:30, and feel much better—but I’m scared to find out what’s been going on. Fortunately, all is cheerful because Sophie is sleeping in Conor’s room and Conor and Lucia are playing quietly in the living room.

-Beth buys Starbuck’s breakfast, explaining that room service is so expensive and it’s not that she doesn’t have the money, it’s the principle of the thing. So I eat a stale bagel and drink a delicious coffee and feel great.

-We go back to Central Park and take Conor to Heckscher Playground to run around on the equipment. Lucia and I push Sophie in circles around the playground while Beth and Conor go on the slides and jungle gym. She likes to take these opportunities to play “fun mom.” We talk about how upsetting the trip has been so far.

 Heckscher Playground, Central Park.

-Beth said we’d get some lunch at one of the copious restaurants along the way to Dylan's Candy Bar. But as is often the case in New York, once you need a restaurant, you can’t really find one—especially one with chairs. So we ate at Subway.

-It was good until I got in a weird sort of argument with Beth about the peppers on my sandwich—I could’ve sworn there was a third kind of pepper I’d never had and she was adamant that they only had two kinds of peppers at Subway and I felt sort of like she was being a little unreasonable—I mean, I saw the man get peppers from 3 different bins, and I suppose the jalapenos could have been sliced two different ways, but it was weird that she was arguing about what I was tasting on my sandwich. Sort of like how she consistently argues with me about people who live in cold climates. She says they can’t do anything when it gets cold outside and snows—that they have to just stay in. Since I come from a place where it frequently snows, a place far colder than New York City, I feel like I can speak intelligently to the fact that people can do plenty of things outside when it snows. But she knows I’m wrong.

-We go to Dylan’s Candy Bar and Beth and Conor go on a crazy shopping spree. Who cares? It’s just overpriced junk food. But she’s Ralph Lauren’s daughter, so she gets to have her own store. Nice. I will say she’s a marketing genius. Way to take a really simple idea and make a fortune out of it. She’s the Willy Wonka of the new millennium.

Willy Wonka.

Dylan Lauren.

-I take a moment when we get home to check my email—I do it in the living room so that I can still supervise the children (makes sense to me, considering Beth and John do it all the time and both Lucia and Beth are there). Conor, being the shit he usually is and hopped up on the pound of sugar Beth gave him on the way home, got into the baby aspirin and spilled it on the floor and Beth flipped out at me saying, “Lacey, can you help? Maybe you can just be here now and there will be time later to play on the computer!”

-I cleaned up the mess and when she came back from her panic in the next room over Sophie’s spit-up (oh my sweet lord! a baby spit up!), I told her I was just checking to see if my rent check cleared and I was sorry and it wouldn’t happen again. I’m starting to think part of the problem is the way she acts as though her children are combustible or fragile—like they’re different than other kids and we have to treat them like we would baby Jesus or a king’s kid or something. They’re fucking kids—and sometimes they get hurt (of course, not when they have 15 care-takers surrounding them at all times) and sometimes they get dirty. That’s life.

-While Beth and John are out to dinner, Lucia and I play with Conor and Sophie. When they come home, we're all dancing to Madagascar’s “Move it, Move It” scene. Beth likes this and imitates it the next night. She can't come up with these things on her own.

-The following morning, I learn that Lucia is sleeping on a four-foot-long LOVESEAT because Conor thinks it’s cool to sleep in a “big boy” bed. Beth allows this—does not stand up for Lucia or attempt to discipline her child so that the grown woman can have a bed to herself. But then again, I’m now sleeping on a couch NEXT to a room with a crib (Sophie’s) and two EMPTY queen size beds—because Beth is afraid Sophie will be kidnapped if she sleeps in a room with a door leading out to the hallway. And if Sophie sees me when she wakes up in the night, she won't stop crying (at least this much we've figured out). But at least my couch is long enough to fit an entire adult human body.

Loveseat.

Sofa.

-I go to get the coffees the next day, and Beth says she’ll meet me down there and help carry them back. She doesn’t show. And it’s raining. And there are five coffees, a bagel, some granola, and a muffin.

-We get picked up by a car and go to the three-story Toys "R" Us in the middle of Times Square. It is a hideous monstrosity.  Beth and Conor ride the Ferris wheel while Lucia and I walk around each floor with Sophie and talk shit about Beth.

-When she can’t find us, Beth begins SCREAMING Lucia’s name (I was playing with the baby while Lucia went to the bathroom). It was mortifying. I called to Beth so she’d come find us (and shut up).

-She makes me feel like I’m in high school and I’m about to get caught doing something bad--like I used to get caught smoking cigarettes in the parking lot. But I’m not doing anything bad! It’s like I was saying to Lucia, she makes you feel so crazy because she acts like everything you do is so atrociously wrong that you start to think that maybe it really is atrocious. Maybe you are the horrible, idiot monster she’s making you out to be. But the truth is: she’s completely insane, but has courtroom experience and a law degree, so it’s like she’s a debate Samurai—but though she will win, her argument is asinine. Does that make any sense?

-She sent Lucia to a touristy shop next to Stage Deli so Lucia could buy presents for her family and then got mad when she wasn’t back in 10 minutes and asked me to call her. Lucia got no chance to eat, since Beth was acting like we were in a mad rush to get back to the hotel. Why? So she could go shopping. (Oh, poor Beth! She hasn't had ANY free time with all the parenting she's been doing!)

-Beth made me climb over the back seat of the Escalade because she didn't want to move Conor. (This ended in me losing my cell phone for a day, thereby cutting off all my contact with the outside world.)

-I ask about Lucia and I having a brief chunk of time to ourselves each day—she assumes we mean to have it inside the hotel. With her children. I gingerly explain that we'd each like what some people call "a break." Which is legally required in a work environment. Especially when one's work day is 24-hours long. She is silent. (I think at this point she is REALLY mad that she hired an American-born nanny who knows to what she is entitled and isn't afraid to ask for it.)

-We wash the kids’ clothes in the bathtub with Woolite from the drugstore because it’s “too expensive” to have the hotel do it—and she’s got cheap labor in her suite! It works out okay, though, because I’m able to wash a few things of my own. And laundry gives me satisfaction the way few things do.  I heard from Lucia later that Beth bragged to one of the roadies that with all the money she’d saved having us do her laundry, she was able to buy herself and the kids new clothes at Barney’s. Nice.

*********************************************************************************

Okay, this was another long one. If you're still with me: many thanks! I know that the verb tenses are varied, but I was high on misery when I wrote these entries. Lighter and shorter entries in the next few days! I promise.


*Yet more lyrics from ELO's "Evil Woman."