A Visit with Brooke and Annette | Talbott’s Cove
Annette: What’s your Peloton name again?
Brooke: SweetButCycle though we both know you’re not getting on that thing. You’re getting enough miles on Jackson, honey. Let it be.
Annette: I have good intentions.
Brooke: Of course you do!
Annette: Then why do you ride for an hour every morning?
Brooke: Mostly so I don’t scream at people.
Annette: You still scream at people.
Brooke: I scream less.
Annette: Okay. Sure. We’ll go with that theory.
Brooke: Why are we talking about this again? I thought we agreed after Jackson ordered his that it’s not your vibe. In fact, nothing in his home gym is your vibe and we’re A-OK with that.
Annette: I have some aggression to work off. The school year ends this week so my Mom wants me to help her organize her classroom.
Brooke: Ah. Yes. How thoughtful of her, conscripting you into such tasks.
Annette: Yeah, we’ve dodged a lot of invites recently and I can tell she’s getting chippy about it. Now I have to help disinfect desks.
Brooke: No, you don’t. You have a business to run. A husband to satisfy. Certainly, there is a child in need of five dollars who can handle that task for you.
Annette: I know but it’s easier to do the annoying thing and put an end to the conversation.
Brooke: For now. You put an end to the conversation FOR NOW. The conversation always comes back, am I right?
Annette: You’re right.
Brooke: Didn’t Jackson give her the old what-for not too long ago?
Annette: He did. He’s good like that.
Brooke: Perhaps he should do it again.
Brooke: Now that I’m thinking about it, can’t he just pull her over? Ticket her for driving while passive-aggressive? Under the influence of narcissism?
Brooke: Damn, that would be so much fun to watch. She could do with a night in lock-up, don’t you think? Too bad we don’t have a proper pillory anymore. We used to, you know. My dad had all these stories about a pillory in the town square back in the 1800s. Your mother would change her tune real quick if she knew Jackson could lock her up in there whenever she got lippy.
Annette: Your imagination is so wild and pretty.
Brooke: Yeah, I know.
Annette: I might bake some bread instead of trying to figure out the Peloton. Something tough that likes some intense kneading.
Brooke: Such a good idea. Bring me some if you have any extra.
Annette: I brought you a loaf two days ago.
Brooke: Are you shaming me for eating your bread? Because that’s quite unnecessary, darling.
Brooke: Also, I am pregnant and chasing a two-year-old hellion around. I can eat all the bread I want.
Annette: Where is your precious little hellion right now?
Brooke: He’s with his father and Uncle Cole.
Annette: Isn’t Uncle Cole a treasure?
Brooke: So much. He’s especially helpful since my hellion son likes to tear up Uncle Nate’s garden like he’s a damn rototiller.
Brooke: Don’t you want one of your own?!?
Annette: Yeah, you make motherhood sound like such a delight.
Brooke: Hurry up and get pregnant so I can be miserable yet very thankful for my misery with you.
Annette: Again, sounds like such a wonderful time…
Annette: Anyway, I’m just waiting until you’re done having babies so I can learn from all your experience and inherit all your stuff.
Brooke: If you’re holding out because you don’t want to buy your own pack-and-play, believe me, I will throw you the best shower Talbott’s Cove has ever seen AND I’ll shame the shit out of your mother and sisters so they get you the really luxe new stroller.
Brooke: But we both know you’re waiting because you and Jackson enjoy having the kind of sex where you end up with a broken rib but you’re happy about it.
Annette: That has never happened.
Brooke: Not yet. Not yet, my dear.
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