Pajama Party
"Our little girl is a teenager now," Sandra Rushton announced as she sat down at the kitchen table to have a cup of coffee with her husband. "Do you know that boy Rico, the one whose parents own the bakery on Main Street?"
"Yeah. What about him?"
"He asked her to go to the movies with him on Saturday night."
"Her first date. And in three years, she'll be driving," Dave said. "I can feel my hair turning gray as we speak!"
"Don't worry! We'll get through it. Our parents did, and so can we."
When Dave recalled some of the things he had done as a teenager, he cringed. While he had never gotten into trouble with the law, he frequently tested the boundaries of good behavior. He remembered the night he and his friends got drunk and crashed his father's car. Thankfully, no one was hurt. That accident turned out to be his felix culpa. Afterward, he stopped trying to impress his peers and instead endeavored to make his parents proud of him. He went to college, got a good job, married and settled down.
And now I'm a respectable member of the community, a valued employee, a loving husband and the father of a teenage girl. I suppose I didn't turn out too badly.
"Is everything ready for tonight?" he asked his wife as he poured milk into his bowl of Cheerios.
"I bought plenty of snacks and soda when I went shopping yesterday. This afternoon, I'll pick up the cake, and I'll call for the pizza after the party guests arrive."
"As usual, you have everything under control."
"I will need your help tonight, though. Before we go to bed, I want to push the living room furniture against the wall so that the girls can lay out their sleeping bags on the floor."
"Does Kylie even have a sleeping bag?"
"We got her one when she was still in Girl Scouts," Sandra replied. "It had Anna and Elsa on it. I know she thinks she's too old for Frozen, but I'm not going to buy a new sleeping bag for one night."
"I remember when that movie came out," Dave said wistfully. "She went around the house night and day, singing 'Let It Go.'"
"And now everything is One Direction. She's got posters of Harry Styles all over her bedroom."
"Who was on your bedroom walls when you were her age?"
"Believe it or not, it was the New Kids on the Block."
"No!" Dave laughed. "Really? I had you pegged as an *NSYNC girl."
"No way! I had a major crush on Donnie Wahlberg."
Moments later, Kylie entered the kitchen.
"What are you doing up so early?" her father asked, glancing at his watch.
"I can't sleep. I'm excited about tonight."
"Are all your friends coming to your pajama party?"
"Yes, but 'pajama party' sounds so Fifties. We call it a sleepover now, Dad."
"No matter what you call it, I don't imagine your mother and I will be getting much sleep tonight, not with a bunch of adolescents giggling until the wee hours of the morning. Just keep the music down, okay? I don't want to hear One Dimension all night long."
"One Dimension?" Kylie echoed, looking at her father as though he were a Neanderthal. "Seriously? It's One Direction."
His slip of the tongue was intentional. He knew the name of the band. How could he not know it? His daughter wore it emblazoned on her T-shirt. He said it just to get a rise out of her—and it worked.
"I'll make a deal with you," the teenager offered. "I'll keep the music down if you promise not to tell any of your lame jokes tonight."
"Of course! I wouldn't want to embarrass you in front of your friends!" Dave replied, winking at his wife.
"You needn't worry. I'll keep your father out of the living room," Sandra assured her daughter; then she turned to her husband and added, "I've got a bucket of Moose Munch for us to eat while we stream that Mark Wahlberg movie on Netflix."
"Mark Wahlberg? What happened to the object of your major crush, Donnie?"
"Eat your cereal, sweetheart. You don't want to be late for work."
Once her daughter left for school, Sandra, who had taken a personal day off from work to prepare for the party, began cleaning the house. She dusted, vacuumed, scoured and scrubbed for three hours. When she was finally done, all three bathrooms gleamed, and the kitchen floor was so clean you could literally eat off it. After a quick cup of coffee to give her an added boost of energy, she began to decorate the living room, dining room and kitchen.
The pink streamers came first, followed by several clusters of pink and gold latex balloons. When she went into town for the cake, she would stop at the party store and buy four mylar balloons: two round ones, one that was heart-shaped and the last one in the shape of a cake with candles. Written on all four were the words HAPPY BIRTHDAY. The last thing Sandra did was cover the dining room table with a cupcake-themed pink tablecloth and place matching plates and cups upon it.
That's all I can do for now. I've got the soda chilling in the downstairs refrigerator, and I'll open the bags of chips and pretzels before the girls arrive.
She looked at her watch. It was half past eleven.
"I might as well go get the cake now."
While she was in town, she treated herself to lunch at Panera Bread.
I deserve it, she reasoned. I worked harder this morning than I do at my job.
After putting the mylar balloons in the dining room and the cake in the refrigerator, she went into the master bedroom to take a nap.
Heaven knows I won't get much sleep tonight!
Kylie came home from school at quarter to three. Sandra was still sleeping when the sound of the front door opening and closing woke her.
"Everything looks great!" the teenager exclaimed when she saw the decorations.
"Thank you. I stuck with your favorite color, pink."
"I'm hungry. Is there anything to eat?"
"We're getting pizza when your friends get here."
"But that's not until six!"
"I'll open a bag of snacks. Which do you want: potato chips, Doritos or pretzels?"
"You have to ask?" Kylie laughed.
"Potato chips. Just don't eat too many."
"I know. You don't want me to spoil my appetite for dinner."
"No, I want to make sure you leave some for your friends," Sandra teased.
With nothing to do during the three hours before the guests arrived, Kylie went up to her room to listen to music and play video games while her mother picked up a novel and began to read. At five-thirty, Dave's car pulled into the driveway.
"Wow! It looks festive in here."
His eyes went from the balloons to the bowls of snacks, and he helped himself to a handful of pretzels. Munching on the salty Rold Gold twists, he headed up to the bedroom to change out of his suit and put on something more comfortable. By the time he went back downstairs, the first guest had arrived.
"Kylie! Mahalia is here," Sandra called to her daughter and then turned to the guest. "I'll put your sleeping bag and things in the home office for now. You can put your gift on the couch."
At quarter to six, she phoned the pizzeria and ordered six large pies with assorted toppings. Four more girls arrived before the pizza was delivered.
"Who are we missing?" Sandra asked as she brought the bottles of cold soda up from the basement.
"Marnie and Savannah," her daughter replied.
"Savannah? I don't think I know her."
"Savannah Edgerton. She just moved here last month."
"That was nice of you to include her. I'm sure she's eager to make friends."
"I've got her in my math class. She seems kind of cool. Can we eat now?"
"We ought to wait ...."
Sandra's reply was cut off by the ringing of the doorbell. Kylie ran to answer the door. It was Marnie, her best friend since first grade.
"Are you sure Savannah is coming?" Sandra asked as the hungry guests were reaching for snacks while eying the boxes of pizza on the kitchen table.
"She said she was. I'll text her and find out," her daughter answered, grabbing the cell phone that was never far out of her reach.
When there was no immediate response, the teenager tried calling.
"There's no answer. Maybe she's on her way."
"Well, let's wait another five minutes. If she doesn't show up by then, we'll start eating."
In the interim, Sandra poured soda into the cups and passed them out to the girls.
"Oh, you made it!" the birthday girl exclaimed when she suddenly found Savannah Edgerton standing beside her. "I tried texting you, but ...."
"I had my phone turned off."
"Let's grab a slice of pizza and head into the dining room."
Dave brought in two chairs from the kitchen so that all eight girls could sit at the dining room table. His daughter sat in one and Savannah, the other.
"Thank you, Mr. Rushton," the latecomer said.
"You're quite welc—"
When Dave looked down at her face, he was stunned into silence. Most twelve- and thirteen-year-old girls went through an "awkward" stage as they morphed from children into adults. This girl, however, was beautiful; long blond hair, large blue eyes, straight white teeth, flawless complexion. And the look she gave him was one he had never seen in the eyes of a youngster.
"I think we're good now, Dad," Kylie declared, hinting for him to leave.
He went into the kitchen, put two slices of pepperoni pizza on a pink cupcake plate and joined his wife out on the deck.
"Who's the girl that got here late?" he asked, trying not to show too much interest.
"Her name is Savannah Edgerton. She's new to the school."
"I didn't think I'd ever seen her before."
By seven-thirty, everyone was done eating. The dining room table was cleared, and Kylie opened her presents. When the last gift was unwrapped, Sandra brought in the cake, and everyone sang "Happy Birthday."
"Make a wish," Dave said.
After doing so, the teenager blew out the candles. Her mother then cut the cake into generous slices.
"No cake for me," Savannah declared, looking directly at Dave. "I've got to watch my figure."
Flustered by her brazenness, he retreated to the kitchen.
By nine o'clock, the parents were ready to head up to their bedroom to relax and watch television. First, though, they pushed the couch and chairs against the living room wall.
"If you girls need anything, just holler," Sandra said as she headed toward the stairs.
"And make sure to keep that door locked!" her husband warned. "I don't want anybody sneaking out or coming in."
Kylie rolled her eyes and thought, my father can be so annoying sometimes!
* * *
"Did you get any sleep?" Sandra asked her husband when she stumbled out of bed the next morning.
"Not much. You?"
"Half an hour, if that."
"I'll go downstairs and get us each a cup of coffee," Dave volunteered.
As he walked into the living room, he counted seven girls sound asleep on the floor.
Someone is missing, he thought.
Immediately, he began to worry. Then he heard a voice come from the kitchen.
"Good morning, Mr. Rushton."
"What are you doing up so early?" he asked. "Why aren't you sleeping like the other girls?"
As he spoke, he tried to avoid looking into Savannah's eyes. It was the expression he had seen in them the previous evening that had kept him awake all night, not the girls' talking and giggling.
"I'm not like them," she replied in a voice that sounded far too seductive for a young teenager. "I'm an early riser."
"I was just about to make some coffee for my wife and me. Would you like a glass of milk or orange juice?"
"I'd prefer coffee."
"Do your parents allow you to drink it at home?"
She laughed. It was the laughter of an adult, not a schoolgirl giggle.
"Are you suggesting I would do something my parents didn't approve of?"
"That's not an answer to my question."
"Yes. They let me drink coffee."
As Dave took three mugs out of the cabinet, he wished he had let his wife come down for the coffee. He found being in Savannah's company disturbing. He hoped her coming to his house was a one-time thing and that she would not become close friends with his daughter.
She's not the kind of girl I want Kylie hanging around with.
"What do you put in your coffee?" he asked as he took the creamer out of the refrigerator.
"Whatever way you like it is fine with me."
"Cream and sugar then. Two spoons or one?"
"Two. I like things sweet."
Why does it seem like everything she says has a hidden meaning? he wondered. Or is it me? Am I reading things into perfectly innocent statements?
"My wife tells me you're new to town," Dave said, trying to find a suitable subject to discuss. "Where did you come from?"
"All over. You can say I've been around."
"What's that supposed to ...?"
Against his better judgment, he turned and looked into her eyes. There was no mistaking what he saw there.
This is ridiculous! She's just a kid, for Christ's sake!
Thankfully, Marnie chose that moment to stumble out of the living room and head for the downstairs bathroom. He turned away from Savannah, poured the coffee into the cups and headed back upstairs to the relative safety of his bedroom.
* * *
Kylie Rushton said goodbye to Mahalia and thanked her for her gift. She was the last of the girls to leave. Meanwhile, as his wife cleaned up the breakfast dishes left behind after the party, Dave put the living room back in order.
"Here's a unicorn sock," he announced after pushing the couch back to its original location.
"That must be Bella's. I'll give it to her at school on Monday."
Beneath the recliner, he found another garment: a pair of thong-like lace panties, the kind he had seen for sale in Victoria's Secret.
"What thirteen-year-old would have underwear like these?" he asked.
"They're Savannah's."
Of course, they are! Someone like her wouldn't wear ordinary cotton or nylon briefs.
"She can get them when she comes over later."
Dave felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.
"She's coming here again? Today?"
"Yeah. We're gonna stream a movie on Prime."
"What movie?"
"I don't know. Why? What difference does it make?"
Be careful what you say, the father warned himself.
"Don't you think Savannah is a little too ... mature for you?"
"Why? Because she wears sexy underwear?"
Sexy? Since when did that word start coming up in our father-daughter conversations?
"Don't worry, Dad. She sometimes talks big, but she's really a sweet person."
"What do you mean by talking big?"
"She talks a lot about boys, but I don't think she's ever done anything but kiss them."
Oh, Christ! Is this what it's like to be the father of a teenager? Why couldn't she stay a little girl for a few more years? I'd rather go back to teaching her to ride a two-wheeler than deal with this.
After lunch, Kylie went to her room to take a nap.
"Maybe I'll do the same," Sandra said. "What about you?"
"After two cups of coffee, I'm no longer tired. Besides, I'd like to talk to you."
"I don't like the look on your face. Is this something serious? Is it your job? Are you sick?"
"No. It's nothing like that. It's the girl at the party last night, Savannah Edgerton."
"What about her?"
"When I came down for coffee this morning, she was in the kitchen," Dave began, choosing his words carefully. "She was behaving ... inappropriately."
"What the hell does that mean?"
"She made a pass at me."
"You can't be serious!" Sandra exclaimed, laughing at what she thought was a ludicrous idea.
"I'm not kidding," her husband said defensively. "And I didn't imagine it. I know when a woman comes on to me."
"She's not a woman; she's just a kid. And I hate to break it to you, but you're not Harry Styles."
"You think I'm making this up?"
"No. I think you might have misunderstood her. What exactly did she say?"
"She mentioned doing things her parents didn't approve of, and then she said—and I quote—'I've been around.'"
"That's it?"
"It's not just what she said but how she said it. And then there was the look in her eyes, the way she laughed and her body language."
"I think the problem is you've been awake all night. Why don't you lie down and get some sleep? Maybe when you wake up, you'll realize Savannah is a nice, normal thirteen-year-old girl and not a twenty-first-century Lolita.
* * *
"What do you feel like having for dinner?" Sandra asked as she rested on the couch beside her husband who was watching the last inning of a baseball game.
"I don't suppose there's any pizza left," Dave replied.
"No. But I can order more."
"Nah."
"I don't really feel much like cooking."
"I can run into town and pick up a bucket of KFC," he offered.
"Would you? Are you sure you're not too tired?"
"You make it sound as though this is my first sleepless night. Remember when Kylie was a baby. She would cry all ...."
Dave looked up and saw Savannah standing in the hall.
"I'm sorry. I didn't hear anyone at the door," Sandra said.
"It was open, so I let myself in," the pretty blond teenager explained.
"In this house, we expect guests to knock or ring the doorbell and then wait for us to answer," Dave said sternly.
"You'll have to excuse Mr. Rushton," his wife declared apologetically. "He's often cranky when he doesn't get enough sleep. I'll let Kylie know you're here."
"I'm sorry if I kept you up all night," Savannah said, giving Dave that look.
"Hey, you're here," her friend said when she came downstairs. "I don't have Roku in my room, so we'll have to watch it in the family room."
As the two girls headed toward the basement, Dave could not help noticing the provocative swivel in the teenager's hips. When his wife came back to the room, his face turned red with embarrassment.
"You're blushing," she observed. "Don't tell me Savannah made another pass at you?"
"It's not funny."
"No, it's not. You're coming dangerously close to worrying me."
"Why? Do you think I'm turning into a pedophile?"
"I don't know. Are you?" she laughed.
Far from amusing him, Sandra's teasing disturbed her husband.
Am I becoming a pervert? he wondered.
That question was to haunt him for days to come. Although Savannah did not visit Kylie again during the week, he could not get the young blonde out of his mind. He felt like Kevin Spacey's character in American Beauty.
"Am I going through a midlife crisis like Lester Burnham?" he asked himself as he drove to work one morning. "Is that the reason I can't stop thinking about Savannah Edgerton?"
If so, then maybe he wasn't a latent pedophile. Maybe he could do what other men his age did to take their minds off their advancing years. He could buy a sports car, grow a beard, start playing golf or build a man cave in the basement. The idea of having an affair never entered his mind. He loved his wife. He was a faithful husband and a devoted father despite the insane attraction he felt for the bewitching teenager.
* * *
"You want to build what?" Sandra asked with surprise.
"A man cave," Dave answered.
"Whatever for?"
"So that I can have a space to call my own."
"You already have your tool shed and the garage."
"I want a place where I can hang out with some of the guys from work and watch the games. And where I can put my high school football trophies on display."
"Do you even have those old trophies anymore?"
"They're up in the attic along with my yearbooks."
Sandra didn't see any harm in letting her husband relive his glory days, so she put forth no objections.
"Maybe I'll put a dartboard on the wall, too. And I can buy a pool table!"
"A pool table? Wait just a minute! How much space are you planning on taking? I need room for my exercise equipment."
"All right, forget about the pool table. Maybe I'll get a weightlifting bench instead."
"We'll talk about it later when I get back."
"You're going somewhere?" Dave asked.
"Kylie and I are going to the mall. We'll be home by dinner time."
"Are you bringing back something for dinner?"
"No. I took spaghetti sauce out of the freezer, so all I have to do is cook the pasta. That won't take long."
"While you're gone, I'll go downstairs and start planning my man cave."
On the drive to the mall, Kylie answered a text from Savannah and put down her phone.
"What's all this about Dad planning a man cave?" she asked her mother.
"He wants to build one in the basement."
"Oh, God! Is he going to fill it with sports memorabilia?"
"Look on the bright side," Sandra laughed. "At least he's not talking about starting a rock band or buying himself a motorcycle!"
"Why would he?"
"Because he's going to turn forty next year, and men have been known to do strange things when they reach that milestone."
* * *
Holding his tape measure against the wall, Dave drew pencil marks on the sheetrock where he planned on installing shelves. As he envisioned his gold-plated trophies lined up in a row with his graduation and prom photographs, he sang along with the old Matchbox 20 song playing on his stereo.
"I wonder what it's like to know that I made the rain. I'd store it in boxes ...."
A sudden movement in his peripheral vision startled him into silence.
"You scared the hell out of me!" he cried.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Rushton," Savannah said.
"What did I tell you about knocking?"
"I did not knock. No one answered."
"Kylie isn't home. She went to the mall with her mother."
"I know. She texted me from the car."
"Then what ...?"
When Savannah unbuttoned the top button of her blouse, Dave panicked. What if he couldn't resist her? What if his darkest fears were warranted and he was a pedophile?
"Stop it!" he screamed. "Get out of my house!"
"Why? Don't you like me?" she asked, undoing another button.
"You're just a kid!" he said, relieved that he felt no desire.
"I'm older than you think. A lot older."
"How old?" he asked, mesmerized by the physical changes that slowly came over her.
"Let's just say when I was born, the worldwide census count was two."
The fair-haired, blue-eyed teenager morphed into a grown woman with long black locks and glowing red eyes, revealing her true identity: Lilith, the primordial temptress and the first wife of Adam. As a mere mortal man, not yet four decades in age, Dave had no hope of resisting the charms that she had greatly enhanced in nearly ten thousand years and used with a surgeon's skill on multitudes of unsuspecting men before him.
Three hours later, when Sandra and Kylie returned home from the mall, they heard the Matchbox 20 CD playing in the basement.
"Good grief!" the teenager exclaimed. "If he does build a man cave, please let it be soundproof!"
She then took her shopping bags upstairs to her room, put her AirPods in her ears and turned up One Direction to drown out her father's music. Meanwhile, her mother put a pot of water on the stove and took a box of San Giorgio ziti out of the cabinet. While waiting for the water to boil, she went downstairs to the basement.
"We're back," she called. "Dave?"
There was no one there. She turned off the stereo and went in search of her husband. She found him in the bedroom, sound asleep on the bed.
"Planning your man cave tired you out, huh?" Sandra asked.
He woke up in a state of profound confusion.
"What ... what am I doing here?"
"Sleeping."
"I don't remember coming upstairs. I was down in the basement, measuring the walls ...."
"You must have really been tired! Why don't you hop in the shower? Maybe it will wake you up. Dinner won't be ready for another twenty minutes."
Dave got out of bed, feeling completely drained. The hot shower did little to revive him.
I hope I'm not coming down with something.
He replayed the day's events in his mind. The last thing he recalled was making pencil marks on the basement wall. He was not aware that Lilith had come to his home or that she had led him upstairs to the bedroom. When she left the house, she took those memories with her. Hence, his greatest concern that night was that, despite having been vaccinated, he might have contracted COVID.
* * *
For the first time since the night of his daughter's pajama party, Dave Rushton was free of Lilith's spell. Furthermore, after a stop at his local pharmacy where he was tested for COVID and received a negative result, he felt better than he had in years.
"A man cave?" he asked his wife at dinner the following evening. "What was I thinking? I'd rather put that money to good use, perhaps on a family vacation. What do you say to that?"
"A vacation sounds great. Where to?"
"I don't know. What do you think, Kylie? Where would you like to go?"
His daughter shrugged her shoulders and stared down at the food on her plate.
"Sweetheart, is something bothering you?" Sandra inquired.
The teenager turned toward her mother, who could see the unshed tears in her glistening eyes.
"It's Savannah. She's gone."
Oddly enough, the mention of the temptress' name had no effect on her father. Having no interest in the girl's whereabouts, he ate his dinner in silence.
"What do you mean she's gone?" Sandra asked.
"Mrs. Fleischman said she's no longer enrolled in our school. Her family has left town."
"But they just moved here."
When the tears fell from Kylie's eyes, Sandra suspected there was more to the story than what her daughter had told her.
"Have you called or texted Savannah?"
"The phone number is no longer in service."
"That's odd! I hope nothing has happened to her. She was such a nice girl."
"That's what I thought, too, but ...."
Kylie put down her fork and looked away, fearing she had said too much.
"But what?" her mother pressed.
"There's a rumor going around school that Savannah is pregnant."
"You mustn't believe rumors. So often, they're not true. I'm sure whoever started this one was jealous because she is such a pretty girl. Besides, Savannah is just a child herself!"
"You're right, Mom."
Kylie wiped the tears from her face with a napkin, picked up her fork and speared a meatball.
"Cedar Point would be a nice place for a family vacation," she announced, answering her father's question.
"That's in Ohio, isn't it?" Dave asked.
"Yeah, right on the shores of Lake Erie."
"I hear they have several top-rated rollercoasters there," Sandra said.
"We could visit the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame while we're in the area," her husband added.
As the Rushtons planned their upcoming vacation, Savannah Edgerton was forgotten. Eventually, not one of them would remember her name or recall her face—least of all, Dave Rushton, the man who had unwittingly fathered a hybrid child with the primeval she demon known as Lilith.
Have you ever heard that old expression "the cat's pajamas"? Well, guess who invented it?
