Barbarians at the PTA

by Stephanie Newman

  I checked out my reflection in the glass door. Who was that red-faced and exhausted-looking woman in a pencil skirt and heels? My long brown hair was disheveled, and I had a run in my pantyhose. I was battle scarred and humiliated—and it was a new low.

  I bolted to the exit and sat down on a bench close to the front of the property. In our town and at Rachel’s school, the playing field was not level at all. How was I going to protect my child? Tears began to pool in the corners of my eyes.

  “Are you okay?” Someone was speaking to me. It was the guy with the forearms—and though crying had made my vision blurry, I could tell his shoulders and pecs weren’t bad either.

  I sniffled. “I’m leaving. You don’t have to call security.”

  He smiled. “No, it’s fine. This is nothing we haven’t seen before. It’s been a parade of anxious parents around here lately,” he said, rerolling his sleeves. I wiped my eyes and quietly checked him out: pressed pants, blue button-down shirt, and plain loafers—solid and understated.

  My new acquaintance continued with his story. “Yesterday a woman showed up with a $30,000 tote from Paris. She made a show of putting the big orange box on Lacanne’s desk and telling him how much his wife would adore owning the ‘it bag.’”

  “Seriously?” I asked with a small smile. He was kind, but I still wanted to run home and hide. “Well, thank you. I guess I should be going now,” I said, standing up.

  “You might try Lakeshore Academy. They’re still taking applications, I hear.”

  “Unfortunately, I don’t have an extra forty grand lying around and it’s too far from our house. That’s why I was so excited about Guardian. This location and scholarship program are ideal.”

  The man extended his hand. “Jim Reilly. I’m Head of the Lower School.” We shook briefly. His palm felt nice on mine.

  “Victoria Bryant.”

  Jim looked at me and smiled, his eyes crinkling up at the sides. He seemed compassionate and was very handsome, although he was taller than the guys I usually liked. “Didn’t we run into each other at Starbucks?”

  Of course! This was the guy I’d bumped into when I was rushing to work.

  “Yes. Sorry again about your coffee.” He held my gaze as a warm blush deepened across my cheeks. Handsome as he was, I wasn’t sure what else to say and stood up to gather my things. “It was nice to meet you, Jim.”

  “Victoria, wait.” My pulse picked up.

  “You look like you’ve had a long day. Would you like to get a beer with me?”

  I tilted my head. “Do you have drinks with everyone who tries to elbow their way into your school?”

  “Only the unsuccessful ones. I can’t go out boozing with the mothers of my students. That would be inappropriate.”

  I laughed. Five o’clock might be a little too early for beer, but a cup of coffee would be okay. There was still time before Alva had to leave.

  Had he just asked me out? Was this a date? I felt a pounding in my chest, but quickly pivoted. Given the fact that nothing had ever stuck, Colin was my first and only long-term relationship, dating seemed ill advised.

  “I—”

  “It’s only a beer.” Jim’s tone was playful, sparking tiny waves of excitement from within the dark recesses of my chest. As he stood there, smiling down at me, I felt my resolve beginning to waver.

  “Sure,” I said. “Why not?”

  Nine

  Mayfair Memes 2

  I texted Rachel that I’d be home in a couple of hours, then forced myself to shove the Lee and school situations to the side, at least temporarily. Jim drove us to his favorite sports bar. It was one town over in a quaint village with a stone church and tiny main street. We waited to be seated, watching out the front window as stressed out looking commuters hurried past us, away from the train station toward their parked cars.

  A man peeked out from the kitchen and told us to take any table we wanted.

  Jim chose a booth near one of the giant flat screens, motioning for me to switch sides with him. “I’d rather talk to you than watch the game,” he smiled. “Do you like baseball? My dad used to take me to Yankee Stadium. We even went to Florida for spring training one year.”

  A quick glance at the screen told me which team was playing. “I do. Sammy Sosa just made a diving catch. The crowd is going nuts.”

  “How do you know so much about the Cubs?” he asked, his eyes expressing curiosity.

  “My Dad had season tickets years ago when we lived in Chicago. He was a huge fan.”

  “Tell him I forgive him.” Jim’s smile was teasing. He held up two fingers. The bartender brought over some water and two glasses of whatever was on tap. We sipped and smiled, feeling at ease.

  I liked that Jim was confident and playful, and decided not to disclose the fact that Mom and Dad were no longer around. I might not be a rock star at dating, but even I knew that my depressing early history was a bit much for the small-talk phase.

  “You’re kind of quiet,” he observed.

  His interest was flattering. “Just used to being the listener, I guess.” I couldn’t stop staring at his deep blue eyes and the perfect curve of his jaw.

  I recalled the saying that dating was like riding a bike; I was never much good at that either. “So tell me about yourself,” I smiled.

  “Not much to say, really. I’ll give you the Cliffs Notes version.”

  As we talked, I glanced at his physique. His shoulders were muscular, fanning out in the shape of a V. I traced a path with my eyes down to his waist.

  Jim spoke about his grandparents, how they’d owned a series of canine retrievers with names like Chauncey and Winston. I imagined what his skin would taste like and how his lips would feel, and lost myself in his eyes and the rich, masculine timbre of his deep voice.

  Then he began describing his parents: “My mom and aunt were with me during the week because my parents divorced when I was six, and my dad, who was a lawyer, worked all the time. I spent most weekends with him and tagged along on a couple of business trips when I got a little older. Those were fun.”

  He shrugged in a self-effacing way that was adorable, and I decided then and there that I’d faint if he waited much longer to kiss me. He was absolutely dreamy. I smiled and nodded as he spoke, encouraging him to go on.

  “I played a lot of sports growing up. Like every kid in America, I wanted to be a professional baseball player. Played Division 1 until I tore my meniscus and ACL sliding into third. And that was that. I went into teaching, then administration. And you know the rest.”

  Hardly, but this was an interesting start. I was glad he’d shared his story. “Wow! You played at that level?” Jim reddened “I guess we can add modesty to your virtues,” I added.

  “And voraciously hungry.” He’d changed the subject, but I could tell he was pleased by the way he sat a little taller. His humility was endearing.

  Jim was now smiling at me. “Why don’t we have dinner?”

  Even I knew that the suggestion of a meal meant things were going well. The little waves of excitement I’d been feeling returned. I breathed in and sat on my hands, being sure to offer a composed response: “That sounds great.”

  “Is red okay?” he asked, opening the wine list. I was back to looking at his mouth. It was smooth and soft.

  “You choose,” I said, feeling like a damsel batting her eyelashes. “But I can only have a little. I’m driving.” Jim got the waiter’s attention and asked for two glasses of Chianti. Then we ordered our entrées. I was glad not to have to be in charge for a change, and relaxed into the banquette with a big smile.

  “You’re in a good mood,” he commented as the waiter arrived with the wine.

  “Well, you’re more fun than my regular end-of-the-day appointment, a divorcing couple who are at each other’s throats.”

  “So I am more fun than two people who hate each other’s guts? That’s high praise.”

  I laughed. “By the way, I was interested in what yo
u were saying. Where’d you play baseball?”

  “Boston College.”

  I’d heard how selective that school was. Everyone who studied there had to maintain a high GPA.

  He must have read my thoughts because he said, “Lucky for me, we were expected to keep our grades up; no free rides for athletes. I had to study, which meant I could finish my degree and get a master’s.”

  “I figured you were a good student.”

  “I ambled along, Ms. PhD. Where’d you go to college?”

  “University of Illinois, which was great because grad school was so expensive.”

  Jim was easy to talk to, and his responses were kind. “I’m sure, but obviously worth it,” he said. “Which grad school?”

  “Columbia.”

  “You have an Ivy League degree? Impressive.”

  My cheeks felt hot. “I should warn you. I can’t take a compliment,” I said.

  “It’s cute.” He shifted in his seat. Was I imagining it or had he moved closer? “How’d you do it, going to school, working, and having a daughter all at the same time?”

  It was really hard. “It wasn’t that bad. I had Rachel when I was finishing up the licensing requirements, working at one of the big hospitals. I’ve always had a great sitter.”

  “Were your parents psychologists?” he asked.

  “No, they had a bookstore just outside the Chicago city limits, not too far from our house. They worked long hours and fell into bed.”

  He leaned in. “So it was just you, then? No brothers or sisters?”

  “I was an only child. I spent a lot of time playing by myself. And I was always close with my great aunt. She was a book editor.”

  “All the reading and studying is genetic, I guess.”

  I smiled. “And your family?” I asked.

  “I’m an only child too. My mom’s in Florida now; she plays mahjong and canasta. And my Dad’s out west with his second wife. They’re on the bridge circuit, and she’s into quilting.”

  That sounded deadly. I nodded as Jim spoke with a shrug. “Not my speed, but it seems to work for them.”

  We were definitely on the same wavelength about cards and quilting. He touched my hand as the waiter arrived with our plates. “Since the regular season is over and you like baseball so much, why don’t I try to get seats to a playoff game?”

  “That would be great,” I said, feeling another tingle of excitement.

  Jim bit into his steak. I was so excited I could barely eat mine.

  “A story for another time, but my ex hated everything about sports.”

  So Jim had an ex? That was interesting.

  He didn’t seem to notice my mind had started calculating. “My friend Jack has tickets he doesn’t always use. I’ll look into the game.” He smiled, and my stomach flipped so fast and hard, I had to avert my eyes.

  After dinner, Jim drove me to my car, which was back at the school, and we chatted about the chillier temperatures and falling leaves. I was having trouble concentrating because all I could think of was whether he would kiss me. I kept remembering his lips and how he’d leaned toward me at dinner. By the time we made it to back to the lot, I felt like I was about to explode.

  “This was fun,” he said, drawing me close as I stood on tiptoe until our chests were touching. I took it all in: the feel of his cheek, his citrusy smell. And then I forgot where I was, as his eyes closed and lips moved slowly over my mouth, making my whole body come alive.

  After a minute, I forced myself to pull away. “I’m sorry, but I really have to go. It’s getting late, and my daughter is waiting for me. I had a really nice time.”

  We kissed once more before I got in and drove off, waving through the window. Driving home, I couldn’t stop grinning. Even my time with Colin wasn’t like this. It had been years since I’d had this much fun.

  The following evening Rachel and I were at the kitchen table eating fish tacos. Though she hadn’t reported any new slights, her recent fears about having no friends had stuck with me. “So, how’s it going?”

  She shrugged. “Same.”

  “I know it’s been rough with some of the kids, but why not ignore people like Lexi and Collette? Maybe ask some other kids in your class to come over for a movie night?

  “Stop! I already told you. No! That’s not how it works.”

  What had happened to make my child become so cynical? “Okay. Then please tell me how it does work.”

  She shot me a “you’re so stupid” look. “They’re all a big group. You don’t just ask Lexi and Collette’s friends to get together! Those girls have to ask you.” I’d suppressed the rules governing middle school cliques, but our conversation brought it all back.

  Since private school wasn’t an option, we’d have to make things work in town. I’d encourage Rachel to branch out while I figured out how to be strong and stand up to Lee.

  I gritted my teeth and tried again. “We’d talked about your trying a new activity. Has basketball made things any better with the girls?”

  Rachel shook her head.

  “What about signing up for something else? Chess?”

  “I’ll think about it.” We’d finished eating and carried our plates to the dishwasher. After Rachel went upstairs to do homework, my phone buzzed with two texts from Jim.

  “You know what I’m thinking of? . . . Derek Jeter.”

  I was figuring out what to write back when Jim buzzed again: “Where do you stand on PDA’s?”

  I felt my heart pounding. Someone that smart and cute was actually flirting with me! I really liked his sense of humor. “Would the PDA be with me or Derek?”

  “I think you know the answer to that,” he wrote.

  I was wondering if I should write back when another text came in: “Storming any schools tomorrow?”

  “I’ve retired from that life.” He LOL’d and signed off, reiterating his promise to see about tickets.

  The following morning, Rachel and I took the shortcut, parking behind the school. I watched her walk through the doors and hoped she wouldn’t get any more stomachaches.

  Jim texted as I was driving to the station. Try not to spill anyone’s coffee.

  The train was crowded, but I managed to find a seat. Not making any promises I can’t keep, I wrote back as we pulled out.

  An hour later, I was in my Manhattan office sitting face-to-face with a young urban couple that was struggling with infertility. In a cart-before-the-horse moment, I recalled that Jim had said he’d just turned forty. I wondered whether he wanted kids. Even though I was open to the possibility of giving Rachel a sibling, I was thirty-nine and had no idea about my fertility—that could be a deal breaker if Jim did want kids.

  I reminded myself to slow down. Despite all the texts and calls, I’d been on exactly one date with the guy.

  When I got home, Rachel told me that Collette and the others had continued to give her the cold shoulder. But it was fine, because she’d eaten lunch with Maya and Sharon’s son, Neil, and they’d asked her to work on a group project. Since Rachel was feeling happier, I thought I’d earned another night out with Jim.

  On the evening of the game, he picked me up at the office and we headed to the Bronx. Our seats were right on the third base line. Jeter had recently announced his intention to retire at the end of the season, and we immediately fell into discussing his illustrious career (.310 batting average! 260 home runs! Lifetime RBIs: 1311!), as we watched the Yankees pummel the Orioles 8-2.

  Jim pulled me close and kissed me straight on, right there in the stands, in front of a whole bunch of strangers. My heart was pounding so hard, I was sure the beer-swilling guys to my left could hear. I glanced around. What if we were on the JumboTron and my clients saw me on TV kissing a strange man? And what would Rachel think?

  “Let’s get out of here,” he said, pulling me toward the exit as the final out, a foul ball, cracked off the bat and popped into the catcher’s waiting mitt.

  He held my hand on the
drive home, and told me about his ex, who thought it was funny to hide his keys just as it was time to leave for the opening pitch. I was dying to hear more, but bit my tongue. It was too soon to tell him my sad backstory. I listened and joked. When we paused at a stop sign and he suggested a nightcap, I was tempted, but what I said was, “I would love to, but I have to get home to Rachel. He nodded and seemed to get it.

  Our conversation turned to books, and Jim told me his favorites were Vanity Fair and Middlemarch. My pulse sped up; I loved the classics. I remembered a story one of my friends had told me: When she and her boyfriend had first met, he’d fed her a bunch of white lies, telling her he loved rom-coms and organic restaurants. As soon as they were an item, he said no to any movies that didn’t involve a car chase or explosion, and refused to set foot in a health food place. I suppressed a laugh. For all I knew, Jim read only comic books. I liked him so much I wouldn’t care.

  “I haven’t met too many people who like nineteenth-century satire. Besides me, I mean,” I said.

  “I’m a sucker for biting social commentary, I guess. It reminds me of the families I see at school. I’m also perfectly happy reading the Post. And I’ve been through all of the Harry Potter and vampire books, whatever our students are into.”

  Score one for Jim.

  We were now in my driveway. He turned the ignition off and pulled me close. My pulse quickened as the windows disappeared under a cloud of steam. “Guess it’s good night,” I said burying my face in his shoulder, “but I don’t want it to be.” Jim hugged me and promised to call later that evening. I watched him drive off with a tug in my chest.

  As I was hanging up my coat, Rachel called to me. She was upstairs getting ready for bed. “Can you be the class parent on the trip to the American Museum of Natural History? All you have to do is email the teacher, and she’ll put you on the list.”

  Based on what I’d heard, the PTA president decided. I had a greater chance of starring on Broadway than being chosen to chaperone Rachel’s class trip, but maybe meeting Jim signaled that our luck was about to change. I’d think positive. Perhaps I’d get the go-ahead for the outing and the girls would ease up on my daughter.