Barbarians at the PTA

by Stephanie Newman

  I was starting to feel awkward, like I’d crashed their dinner, when, as if to make my point, Audrey reached for a laminated card featuring specialty drinks, while Jess peeked at her phone.

  It was obviously up to me to start up a conversation, and I was wondering why no one else was joining us, but didn’t want to say the wrong thing. “I haven’t been to this place before.”

  Jess nodded. “Do you like Mexican food?”

  “Yes. How about you guys?” I smiled across the table. Jess started to respond, but was distracted by the buzzing of her cell. She glanced at it, showed Audrey a message and turned back to me. “Lee’s running late. She doesn’t usually make time for these dinners, but she did say that she wanted to come tonight to personally welcome you.” There was a slight edge to her voice.

  Wishing there were other moms present, I glanced at the list of entrées as my companions spent the next few minutes staring down at the cell phone; burrowing in like scientists over a microscope, acting as though they were Watson and Crick unlocking the mysteries of DNA.

  “Everything okay?” I asked.

  Jess pulled herself away from the screen. “Lee went to a gala in the city last night. She’s been posting photos on her blog.”

  “Look at that dress.” Jess sighed, handing the phone to Audrey and smiling briefly at me before turning her attention back to the screen. “Wow. I love those shoes!”

  I was still at a loss about what to say, when the door to the restaurant opened and Lee stepped inside. “Well hiiiiiiiiiaaiiih.”

  I stared at her chocolate brown nail polish, russet mini, and flowing camel-colored cape. The garments rolled into one another, rising to an elegant silver fox collar that crowned her shoulders like an exotic necklace. The outfit screamed couture—haute couture. I managed to tear my eyes away from her accessories and return her greeting: “Hello.”

  Lee took her place at the head of the table.

  The waitress approached and asked if we wanted to order drinks.

  “What’s good?” I asked, glancing around the table.

  “The drinks are mahvelous,” Lee told me, as the others nodded along. “Margarita please, frozen, no salt,” I ordered. Then it was Lee’s turn: “The three of us will each have a Skinny Girl Margarita, please.”

  The waitress asked if she should bring over some chips and salsa. Lee shook her head, motioning between herself, Jess, and Audrey: “Thanks, but we’re gluten-free.”

  “I’ll have their gluten,” I told the server. She snorted and moved toward the front of the restaurant.

  “How old are your kids?” I asked Audrey.

  “My daughter, Katie, is in the same class as Lexi and Collette.”

  “Mine too. Her name is Rachel.”

  She nodded. “I heard.”

  “So, how long have you all lived in town?” I asked glancing around the table.

  “Long enough to know who to avoid,” Lee shot back. “Ah could tell you stories; there are some real losers here. A bunch of gals haven’t opened a Vogue magazine since the nineties.” She glanced at my blouse as Jess and Audrey snickered.

  Just then Lee’s phone buzzed with an incoming text. “Will you look at this?” She said, displaying a photo of a willowy blond who was arm-in-arm with a chestnut-haired man in large, darkrimmed hipster glasses. “She’s almost twice his height.” The three of them laughed until the waitress came over with our drinks.

  While the waitress was serving us, Jess squinted at the screen. “Phoebe looks good.”

  “Yes,” Lee interrupted. “But check out Bart’s glasses.” I sensed they were intentionally leaving me out, and felt like an audience member watching a play.

  “Peter and I are having dinner with them next week,” Jess began as Audrey and Lee raised their glasses and sipped. “I can add you guys to the reservation,” she said as Lee recoiled in horror, causing Audrey to laugh so hard, she almost choked on her cocktail.

  Lee was obviously the group’s Mother Ship. I was tempted to ask how late Jess and Audrey were allowed to stay out, but got sidetracked when two other women came into the restaurant and started waving in our direction. I decided that with matching brown ponytails, red SoulCycle tanks, and tight black exercise pants, they looked like Thing One and Thing Two; identical, except Thing Two had a slightly larger nose.

  They came over to the table and began kissing and hugging Lee, Jess, and Audrey.

  Lee smiled at Thing 1. “Stacey, haiiiah. Sorry we couldn’t be there tonight. How’s it going?”

  “It’s going,” Stacey said.

  “This is Victoria,” Jess said, exchanging a seventh grade glance with Audrey as Lee examined her manicure.

  Why had they joined the Newcomer’s Welcoming Committee if they didn’t like newcomers? These women were less welcoming than Torquemada during the Spanish Inquisition, and by this point, I’d had it.

  As the hostess approached with take-out bags, Stacey bent down to kiss everyone goodbye. “Don’t worry about tonight,” she told Jess, placing a hand on her shoulder. “I know you owed Lee a favor.” They grabbed their food and headed toward the front of the restaurant. “Nice meeting you,” one of them called as the door was closing behind them.

  So I was the favor? Were Lee and her friends really that bitchy? I was about to invent a headache and leave when the server brought our fajitas.

  While we were eating, a family from school showed up. Their daughter looked to be a little older than our kids and had a pronounced lisp. Audrey noticed it too, and asked Jess in a stage whisper: “Why wouldn’t they get that kid some help. It’s beyond.”

  I recalled hearing she was a pediatrician who worked part-time, and Jess had been a teacher before having kids. The two of them were professionals and they were trashing an impaired child and her parents?

  Lee leaned across the table. “You’ll soon find that there are the right people and the wrong people to be friends with in Mayfair,” she told me.

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” I said, “though I tend to find something interesting about everyone.” They cocked their heads and stared as I forced a smile.

  Lee raised a hand like a school crossing guard stopping a line of cars. “Spare me the psychobabble, Victoria. I’m definitely not your target audience.”

  “I wasn’t looking for an audience, just a friendly dinner,” I said, as Lee leaned back, crossing her arms over her chest. Hoping to lighten the mood, I turned to Audrey. “So, why did you study medicine?” Given how insensitive she and the others had been, my curiosity was genuine.

  “My dad was a doctor and let me hang around the office when I was in grammar school. My interest grew from there.”

  I nodded and asked Jess about teaching. “I’ve always liked books. My mother worked a lot when I was little, but we read before bedtime.” Lee broke in: “It’s true. This gal always volunteers at the library and runs herself ragged chairing the book fair, bless her heart.”

  Then my dinner companions all zeroed in on me at the exact same moment. “Are you divorced? Does Rachel see her dad a lot?”

  I shook my head.

  “Why do you live here if you work full-time in the city?” Audrey was asking.

  “Do you ever get to see your daughter?” Lee locked eyes with me.

  My pulse was racing, and I affixed a hard smile on my face: “I’d heard great things about the schools. Moving here was a no-brainer. I’m very fortunate. In my practice, I can work part-time in the city and have a local office here.” I allowed myself to make one small dig. “It’s really the best of both worlds.”

  I was furious and my jaw ached from all the fake smiling. This had to be the tensest dinner since President Bush threw up on the Prime Minister of Japan, and I was dying to get out of there.

  We finally settled up and left the restaurant. Sliding into the driver’s seat of my car, I inhaled deeply and tried to shake off the tension. I had no idea why Lee and the others were acting like junior high school kids imposing a bar to entry
in the popular group.

  Surviving in Mayfair wasn’t going to be easy. I thought about Rachel and the girls she’d been hanging around with. If they were anything like their moms, it was best to advise her to steer clear, or at the very least, broaden her horizons.

  Five

  Carpool

  The basketball interest meeting was about to begin. Everyone had gathered at Barnum in a large basement room that was used for afterschool programs. On the beige tiled walls were posters advertising various clubs. There were metal picnic tables and benches clustered up front. A group of kids was seated at the tables, listening to the coach’s remarks. Parents stood at the rear, waiting to sign a set of participation forms.

  I was standing in the doorway waiting for the coach to finish, when Lee appeared, blocking my path. “Victoria. A word please.”

  Her tone made me uneasy. “What’s up?”

  “Ah just have to tell you Rachel really hurt Lexi and Collette’s feelings, running off with Katie like that. Dance with the one that brung ya, I always say.”

  My heart hammered in my chest. “Rachel left with Katie?” I worried they were wandering the school grounds, alone in the dark.

  Lee’s look was impatient, like I was slow on the uptake. “They’re right over there,” she said, pointing toward the front of the room.

  I spotted Rachel on one of the benches, next to a girl with a thick brown ponytail, and relaxed. “Sorry, I’m not following.”

  “The carpool. Rachel rode here with Lexi and mah Collette. And then she dropped them. She’s sitting with Katie, and going to her house later. Collette came over and told me all about it. She was surprised and upset.” Lee tilted her head and waited.

  “Oh. I had no idea. I’m sorry Rachel hurt Collette’s feelings.” Had this woman just ambushed me about my daughter’s choice of seat and decision to change cars? That was absurd.

  Lee bared her teeth. “We can’t have Rachel in the carpool if she acts like this. You drive her home,” she said, tossing her hair and walking off.

  I was stunned. Lee’s reaction, the entire incident, seemed overblown and petty. Rachel was just a kid, and still learning. Wouldn’t the mother of an eleven-year-old understand this? I pushed my anger to the side. I’d speak to my daughter later.

  The coach was asking parents to line up and sign waivers. Rachel and her friends walked the perimeter of the room, giggling and looking down at their phones. Lee and Jess stood off to the side, laughing and chatting. Since they were the only moms I recognized, I situated myself at the end of the parent queue and tried to smile.

  Seconds later my phone pinged.

  “You get 5 points extra on the math test if you wear a football shirt. I’m going to Katie’s house to borrow a jersey. Her mom is in the parking lot and will bring me home right after.”

  “OK,” I responded. Don’t forget to thank Katie’s mom. I met her yesterday, by the way.”

  Rachel texted “K,” and started to walk toward the door with the ponytail girl, who was obviously Katie. They waved and I felt a momentary pang, remembering when my daughter and I talked instead of exchanging electronic messages.

  When it was finally my turn, I was relieved to see that Lee and Jess had already left. After introducing myself to the coach and signing the forms, I headed out to the car and drove home.

  As I was putting dinner on the table, I heard gravel crackling under the wheels of an approaching car. The kitchen door opened.

  “This is it,” Rachel announced, holding up a child-size version of a Giants jersey while stepping inside. “I told you we get five points for wearing this type of shirt.”

  “Sounds good,” I said, taking a seat at the table. “Are there events for Spirit Day? Or is it just about the clothes?”

  “It’s really for the high school football game.” She slid into a chair and grabbed her fork. “We just wear stuff that promotes spirit.”

  I watched as Rachel devoured her turkey burger. “Mrs. DeVry told me you rode over with Collette and Lexi, but planned to leave in a different car?” My question sounded ridiculous, overinvolved.

  She looked up from her plate. “It wasn’t like that. When we were driving over, Lexi and Collette told me to wear a jersey and laughed when I mentioned my softball uniform. Only losers wear baseball clothes on Spirit Day. They FaceTimed Katie, and she offered to lend me something as long as I picked it up right away. We decided I’d leave with her.”

  “That makes sense. Did you sit with Katie and not the others?”

  “No, we were all near each other. Why are you asking so many questions?”

  “Sorry.” I thought back to Lee’s words: ‘Dance with the one that brung ya.’ “Mrs. DeVry said Collette’s feelings were hurt because you planned to leave with Katie.”

  “I told you, I only went in Katie’s car to get the right shirt so I could wear the same thing as everyone else and earn points in math. Collette knew and she didn’t care what car I went home in.” Rachel grabbed her plate and utensils and stood up. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” She crossed the room and deposited her dishes in the sink.

  After she’d gone upstairs, I sat alone, contemplating. Lee had spun things in the worst possible way. I wondered what innocent thing she’d misinterpret next.

  And then there was the fact that she’d kicked Rachel out of the carpool. Dictating who was in and out was nothing less than social engineering. Lee had shaped the group, and then played me. And I was sure it wouldn’t be the last time.

  It had been a long couple of days, plus roadwork on the parkway, which meant extra travel time. I was happier than ever about my no-commute Friday, and looking forward to picking Rachel up and hearing about school.

  I’d parked in the rear and gone to stand in the designated waiting area in back, when I spied the fifth graders in the outdoor yard behind the building. I watched as Rachel approached a group at a picnic table and sat down with them. From afar it looked like Lexi, Collette, Katie, and a couple of others. One by one, the girls got up and walked off, leaving her alone. My heart cracked in two.

  I longed to race over and comfort my child. But the school had a strict rule: Parents were not permitted on the premises until the final bell. Or were they? Lee was striding over and speaking to Rachel. I watched as my daughter squinted into the sun, nodding from time to time, and my anger rose. What was this, some kind of inquisition?

  I stepped away from the other waiting parents and began to cross the small patch of grass that led from the back of the building to the play yard. Before I knew what was happening, a tall man in a blue uniform appeared and held up one hand. “Sorry, no parents.” I was about to point, when I saw Lee retreating toward the rear entrance of the building. I nodded at the man and returned to the area where everyone was waiting. Rachel still hadn’t moved, and remained red-faced and alone until the period ended and the class went back inside.

  What exactly was going on?

  Once we were in the car, I waited for her to bring it up. After watching her stare at her phone, I tried to speak calmly. “How was school, honey?”

  “Fine.”

  When she didn’t look up I pressed on: “I was early for pick-up and saw you sitting at the picnic table.”

  Rachel stiffened. “Uh huh. The girls were being mean. I’m going to text them later and ask what was up.”

  I nodded. “That’s a good idea. Did someone’s mom come over?”

  “Collette’s mother. She’s always around.”

  During the school day?

  “I didn’t know that was allowed,” I said, trying to sound nonchalant.

  “She’s got some important job at the school, so I guess she gets to come to our class when she wants to. That’s what Lexi told me.”

  “May I ask what you guys talked about?”

  “I don’t know.” Rachel was blushing.

  “Rach?”

  “Well, she wanted to know if I liked our house and going to Barnum. Stuff like that.” />
  “Anything else?”

  Rachel picked at a cuticle. Something told me Lee had crossed a line.

  We were silent. Rachel seemed to be making up her mind about whether to speak. “She asked who else lived with us, and wanted to know where my dad was.”

  I was stunned. She’d asked at dinner but I’d failed to respond. So she’d put Rachel on the spot.

  Rachel must have sensed my displeasure. “I told her I didn’t want to talk about it, so she walked away.”

  “Good for you, honey,” I said. “You don’t have to discuss anything you don’t want to, especially things that are personal.”

  The subject of Rachel’s father wasn’t something we discussed much. As a first grader, she’d been riveted by Miracle on 34th Street, telling me: “That girl doesn’t have a daddy.” I knew she was talking about herself. Keeping it simple as experts advised, I’d said, “Your father is in California, but we’re not in touch.” She’d searched “The Golden State” on our desktop before insisting she had no further questions, and wouldn’t discuss her dad after that.

  When my daughter was turning ten, I started seeing Colin, and didn’t want there to be any secrets. Where my romantic life hadn’t been an issue before—I dated some but had flown mostly solo, preferring to be home with my girl—it now made sense to tell her the story of how she’d come into the world.

  We were at the kitchen table having breakfast. “Honey, there’s something I’ve been waiting to discuss.” She stared down at her iPod touch. “Please look up. No videogames at the table.”

  Rachel barely masked her annoyance. “Yes?”

  “Well . . .” I breathed in. “I wanted to talk about your father. Around the time I was finishing grad school, I wanted very much to have a child, and chose a path that wasn’t the most common one. I used the services of a sperm donor.”

  Rachel’s brow furrowed. Was she upset? Single parenting had been my choice. I could have waited to have a baby the traditional way, but I felt ready, as though I didn’t need a husband or boyfriend to complete the picture, and went for it. Would a child her age understand that? Or would she be sad or angry with me?