>And Don’t Even Get Me Started About Her Breath

“Did I tell you that Little Ansley was asked to join the All-City Dance Team?” I jumped before recognizing the owner of that shrill and grating voice beside me.

“You know,” I said, turning with an irritated smile to face Donita, “I think you did.”

“Well, I wasn’t surprised,” she smirked as I turned back to watch my stepdaughter and her classmates through the dance studio’s viewing window. “She’s a real good dancer, my Little Ansley is. Everybody says so.”

“Yeah,” I answered, gritting my teeth. I wasn’t sure why this woman thought that I cared so much about Little Ansley. I didn’t even know Little Ansley and she and my stepdaughter had never exchanged more than a few words. But every time I took my girls to dance class, Donita managed to find me and tell me all about her daughter. And then some.

“I got a raise this week,” she volunteered eagerly to the back of my head. “My boss says I’m the best employee he’s ever had.”

“Great,” I said unenthusiastically, not even bothering to turn around. Oh, this sounds so mean, but surely you know people like Donita. You start out trying to be polite, but once you’ve been steamrolled by their incessant conversation, you begin sending subtle signals that you’re not really all that interested in hearing the details of their Lasiq eye surgery, or their pet hamster’s habits, or their in-laws’ trip to Greece. Most people take the hint, but there are always one or two who don’t seem to notice your eye rolls, your sighs, your sudden inability to understand the English language. Enter Donita. I’ve tried everything to get this dame off my back, but no dice.

“I tried to take some stuff back to Macy’s t’other day,” she droned like a fly in my ear, “but I didn’t have the receipt. Luckily, the sales person was a man. I just worked my magic on him and got all my money back!”

I snorted, trying to imagine what kind of magic Donita was talking about. Thank God this was my 14-year-old’s last year of dance class. In just a few weeks, I’d be free of Donita forever.

“Blah blah blah, I’m the greatest,” Donita went on. “Blah blah, all my stories have no basis in reality. Blah blah blah, our girls will be in high school together next year.”

I was standing with my eyes rolled all the way back in my head and my mouth hanging open, but even this effort to end the yammering went unnoticed. Suddenly, my eyeballs flew back into focus.

“What did you say?” I demanded. “Did you say our girls will be in school together?”

“Little Ansley got a transfer,” Donita said happily. “We just found out this week. I was so excited because now I’ll have someone to talk to at all the parent’s meetings and football games!” She clutched my arm tightly.

Fasten your seatbelts, folks. It’s going to be a bumpy ride.