Barbarians at the PTA

by Stephanie Newman

  Jim laughed and put on a helmet before heading back into the cage. I was glad he was focusing on the ball because I’d never seen him in shorts before and couldn’t stop staring. His quads were so hard and muscular, it was like someone had carved them out of Italian marble.

  He asked me to go back to his apartment, and looked disappointed when I said I didn’t feel comfortable leaving Rachel alone for so many hours. And though he said he understood, I felt low. What if my lack of free time became too frustrating for him, or he met someone else?

  As I drove north through surrounding towns, passing rows of stone houses and white fences before heading up the hill to our home, I thought about how much I liked Jim, and how hard it had been to find weekend time with Rachel sitting home alone.

  The thought of introducing them had crossed my mind. But Rachel didn’t need another unknown in her life, not now when things were so difficult for her.

  There was one bright spot. She and Maya had started shooting baskets with the boys during recess, and had volunteered to feed the principal’s turtle one afternoon a week. Plus, she’d been Face-Timing again with her city friends. Since Rachel seemed happier, I relaxed a little.

  Alva was back in action and agreed to work a few extra hours, and with the school situation improved, at least temporarily, it felt okay for me to meet Jim after I had dinner with Rachel. Over the next few days, we spent a couple of evenings watching World Series games and stealing kisses in a booth at the sports bar in town. It was easy enough to meet up in his neighborhood or mine.

  I’d been trying hard to pace myself, and not jump in feet first. But as my feelings began to deepen, it was harder and harder to stop myself. Then it happened. Rachel was invited to sleep over at Zoe’s place in the city. It felt like the stars had aligned.

  After I dropped her off, I met Jim at the rotating hotel bar atop Times Square, where we had champagne and watched through curving windows as city lights drifted past. Sitting shoulder to shoulder, looking out the skyscrapers and sky, it was starting to feel like love.

  Floating above it all, talking about our favorite books and bands, I wanted him right then and there. I figured a one-time splurge would be okay. “Let’s get a room. Want to?”

  Jim was built. I was reminded of this fun fact after we’d slipped between the high-thread-count hotel sheets. I moved up and down his body, exploring firm biceps and broad, hard, muscular shoulders. I’d never felt so alive. He kissed me again, and I lost myself in his embrace.

  I still couldn’t believe this intense connection was happening to me, although I needed to figure out something for overnights and weekends before our romance began to fizzle.

  The following Monday, I opened my laptop and scrolled down, choosing carefully before requesting gift-wrap and hitting “enter.”

  A couple of days later, I was closing up the office when Jim texted: “For me?”

  I sent a kissing emoji and waited. He called immediately. “Thank you, but I don’t think it’s my size.”

  “I can be there in ten minutes,” I said, shoving papers in my bag and grabbing my keys.

  “I’ll be waiting.”

  My gift was lingerie, black and skimpy. I had no idea what to call it, though my great aunt might have used the word “corset.” Labels were inconsequential; my suggestive package had done its job. As soon as I arrived at the apartment, I found Jim waiting, door open and wine uncorked.

  He kissed me and went over to pour the wine. I slipped away, grabbing the garment from the arm of the sofa before ducking into the bathroom, where I changed quickly and dabbed a bit of perfume behind each ear.

  I’d barely taken my first step into the bedroom when he grabbed me and started kissing my neck and shoulders. We held each other for a few moments, and, before I knew what was happening, we were in bed, moving together. Time slowed, and for the precious moments that followed, all that mattered was that we were alone, our bond stronger than ever.

  After we finished making love, he kissed me over and over, and I didn’t want it to end. When Jim walked over to grab the wine, I slid back into my skimpy thing, grabbing a blanket and joining him in the living room. As we settled into the brown leather of the sofa, I gazed up at the photographs on the wall.

  Shots of beaches, waterfalls, fjords, and boats were on display, all moments and images captured during the course of his travels. “These are really beautiful. I don’t know if I ever told you, I like the décor,” I said, scanning the walls.

  Jim arched an eyebrow. “Did you think I’d hang a poster of dogs playing poker?”

  “Ha, ha.” Whenever we were together, it was great, except the night I’d asked about his apartment and ex, and he told me those were fifth date questions. I was still wondering about that.

  He pulled me close. “You look beautiful,” he said, eyeing my lace straps and handing me the wine. I felt myself blushing as Jim sipped from his glass. “So you can send X-rated lingerie through the mail, but you can’t take a simple compliment?” Just as I was about to make a joke, Jim got serious. “Vic, this has been great. But hopefully we can spend an entire night together—or a weekend. I want to be with you for more than a couple of hours after work.”

  I put the wine on the coffee table and moved in closer, kissing his neck. We’d grabbed every possible moment for weeks; the logistical difficulties were frustrating for me too. “I agree. It’s just hard with Rachel mostly home alone on weekends. When that changes, things will be different for us.”

  We sat together quietly for a few moments before he spoke again. “I have another idea. I could come over one night and meet her, then we’ll be able to hang out at your place.”

  I imagined introducing them. It would probably be fine. But as nice as Jim was, the relationship was still pretty new. My body tensed. What if Rachel got attached and he changed his mind?

  “What’s wrong?” Jim asked.

  “It’s just a difficult time. Rachel’s become friendly with one girl, but the transition’s been tough, and I still haven’t really figured out how to help her get out of the hole.”

  Jim sighed as I hugged him. “I’m sorry,” I said into his chest. “I’m doing what I can to get her through this. I want to make sure she’s okay, and when things get a little better, I’d love for you to come over.” I looked up at him. “I mean it, Jim.”

  “I know.”

  An idea popped into my head. “I could stop by and visit you at work once in a while; maybe meet you for lunch. Would that be okay?” It was an olive branch, but the best I could do.

  “As long as I’m not in an interview or a meeting, I’d love to grab lunch. Just touch base one morning when you know your schedule. You can come to the school lobby and tell the secretary you’re there to see me.”

  I took his openness to meeting in the lobby as a good sign. If he weren’t into me or was dating other people, he’d discourage me from visiting work. Things with us were really falling into place. At some point I would have to take the chance and let him and Rachel meet.

  Jim kissed me again, and I forgot everything but the softness of his lips and warmth of his skin. Just as I decided he was perfect, life did a handy 180.

  Lee was about to intervene.

  I’d reread the text so many times, I could recite it word-for-word: “Can you have cocktails Saturday at six? Let me know.” Jim was taking me to his club. Did this mean we were a couple?

  I stressed out about what to wear. Suit or skirt? Work clothes or cocktail dress? I hadn’t been to many country clubs . . . scratch that, . . . to any clubs. I finally settled on my favorite dress, a black sheath I had grabbed at a J. Crew sale a couple of years ago, and paired it with a scarf and my great aunt’s pearls, my best attempt at looking elegant. Whenever I wore the ensemble, I felt confident.

  I wanted to look my best for Jim and all the other people from town I expected to run into. I stood in the back of my bedroom in front of my aunt’s antique, full-length mirror, brushing my hair and slipping o
n a pair of heels, before racing for the door.

  We met at his place and drove together. Heading down the small main road, passing the quiet residential area where streets lacked sidewalks and homes hid behind mile-high trees, we followed a long drive, past an enormous tennis bubble and dark green sign with white letters spelling out, “The Oaks, 1899.” I hoped I wouldn’t run into any patients—or PTA presidents.

  We walked up the clubhouse steps and through the main doors. I spied her, standing next to a tall grandfather clock and laughing at something an elderly man in cranberry red pants was saying. Lee gave me the once-over and bent down to whisper something to another woman who was seated on a nearby leather sofa; Jess, of course.

  The two of them were in identical tennis whites. I gazed down at my formal dress. Maybe it was too much for happy hour? Jim was in a blazer and khakis, so I relaxed a little.

  He led me past the bar to a cream-colored room that overlooked a lake and golf course. “Let’s grab a spot here,” he said, stopping near a high table with a white cloth and no chairs, one of several situated around the room, grabbing a handful of nuts before excusing himself.

  “Wine, okay?” Jim called over his shoulder, as I nodded and pulled out my phone. As soon as he walked off, Lee appeared. “Pretty, isn’t it?” she said, motioning toward the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the course. There were outdoor lamps strategically placed around a small lake and window lights twinkling in a few homes in the distance. After a few moments, Jim was back, bending down to kiss Lee’s cheek. “Hey, I was hoping to run into you.”

  Jim knew her? A sudden, intense surge of fear made its way from one end of my chest to the other.

  He moved closer and put an arm around my waist. “This is Victoria. She has a daughter Collette’s age.”

  “Tricky, aren’t you?” Lee drawled, leaning toward him, “Keeping your new friend all to yourself.” Her voice was syrupy as she eyed me. “Poor thing. We thought he’d never get over Tonya.”

  Who? I glanced at my nails. They were too blunt to puncture Lee’s carotid artery. Pity.

  “We’ve met,” I told Jim. My lips felt tight.

  He nodded. “Barnum’s a small school. I figured you might already know one another.” He turned to Lee, “Way to keep it light.”

  She smacked him on the shoulder.

  “Is Jack here?” Jim asked.

  “I’ll send him right over. See you later.”

  Lee started to walk off. Just as I heard her whinny a “Haaaaayh,” and kiss someone in a golf skirt, a flash of light drew my attention toward the other side of the room. Jess was arm-in-arm with two friends, posing for photos at a smaller bar by the windows.

  I wondered who Tonya was, and was dying to find out how Jim knew Lee, but kept my lips glued shut. He grabbed my hand and the tension melted away. “Don’t mind Lee,” he said. “She’s harmless.” I knew better.

  Jim continued. “I want to introduce you to a few of my friends tonight. You’ll probably recognize some of the people here.” He gestured across the room, “That’s Jack, Lee’s husband. He’s a friend of mine.” Jim lowered his voice. “They are also very generous, and on the board of The Guardian School.”

  I tried to cover my shock, though Jim was onto the next thing, lifting his glass, composing his words, “Victoria, I’m glad you’re here.” The intensity of his gaze made me forget all about the DeVrys. “Cheers,” he said, bending over to kiss me briefly on the lips.

  Seconds later, Jack came over. “You must be Victoria?” As we shook, a man I recognized from the school gym walked up to the group. He was Jess’s husband, and also Rachel’s coach. “Peter,” he told me, extending his hand. “We’ve seen each other at games but haven’t formally met.” He was shorter than Jack with a shaved head and the brightest blue eyes I’d ever seen.

  “Yes. She’s new to the sport, but enjoying herself. Nice meeting you,” I smiled.

  Basketball aside, it was a lot to digest: Jim friends with Lee and her husband, and both of them on the board of his school. I was glad Rachel hadn’t applied; last thing she or I needed was to wind up in another milieu where Lee ran the show. I filed away the comment about Tonya, assuming she was Jim’s ex.

  “Earth to Victoria . . .” Jim was staring into my eyes. Jack and Peter had finished chatting and were now walking over to where Lee stood, leaving Jim and me alone. He put an arm around me and raised his chin toward the bar. “That’s Bill. He blew a couple of us off for golf last Sunday, and we had to play with a teenage stand-in who could barely hit the ball. Want to walk over with me?”

  Out of the corner of my eye I saw that Lee and Jess were now chatting in a group with their husbands. Lee kept glancing over in my direction.

  There were a lot of moving parts. Lee had put Rachel through a terrible time, and continued to mess with her while acting chummy with Jim. It was all too much. Suddenly, my breathing felt shallow. “Actually, I’ll run to the ladies’ room. Go torment your golf buddy.” Jim leaned down and brushed his lips against mine before we parted ways.

  Inside the restroom, I crouched inside a closed stall as the tears started to fall. Lee had infiltrated every area of my life. My heart was racing and I couldn’t breathe. She’d turned the girls against my daughter. And it made sense that she’d now come after me. What would she do next? I breathed in a few times to steady myself before going back into the large, wallpapered room, sitting down at a vanity table as she and Jess barged in.

  “Haaaiii again,” Lee drawled. “Ah didn’t know you were seeing Jim.”

  “He’s adorable,” Jess added.

  Both of them were standing over me. Lee continued, “Since September I’ve seen you at events, interest meetings, games . . . but never with Jim.”

  “You could be my biographer,” I said, rubbing gloss on my lips.

  As I stood up to leave, Jess and Lee began discussing the local housing situation. “You know the attached homes on the other side of town?” Jess said. “Ever notice how everyone who lives in them drives an enormous Escalade?”

  Lee chimed in: “You mean the condos? Maybe they come with a Cadillac as a consolation prize.”

  When I left the restroom, they were still tittering. I made it back upstairs just as the cocktail hour was ending. Jim asked if I could join him for dinner, and after checking with Rachel, I agreed to stay. We were walking toward the windows, taking in the view, when a woman waylaid Jim. Had he heard a cyberstalker had targeted Guardian?

  As he opened his mouth to respond, Lee came from behind and placed a hand on the woman’s shoulder. “Come now, Trish. We’re planning a big educational program. Let’s not worry too much about this. I’m sure it’s just some silly kid.”

  Jim held my hand as we walked to our table. I really liked him, but he was friendly with Jack and Lee, and I was hard-pressed to imagine a future with that intolerable woman in it.

  Thirteen

  Back at the Cafeteria

  I did a double take. Had they scheduled me again to hand out pizza? Recalling an email—for various reasons a couple of moms had to stop volunteering—I decided not to cancel, even though Rachel was at home with a cold. Getting a sub and switching shifts was time-consuming, and meant I’d have to move patients.

  I made a big pot of soup and brought it to Rachel, who took only a couple of spoonfuls. Alva texted that she’d come in a little early, and then I was ready to drive to school.

  The routine was familiar. I greeted the other volunteer, a woman named Joelle, who had a fifth grade boy, kindergartener, and toddler in daycare, and began the process of setting each place with a paper plate. No Lee today so that was a relief.

  Once the kids were seated, they knew to raise a hand, indicating who had preordered. Some brought bag lunches, but most got pizza. The hungrier ones knew to make a V with their fingers, indicating, “two, please.” It was also the sign for peace, although there wasn’t much of that going around.

  When the older grades arrived I passed o
ut slices and took in the carnage. It was choice day, and the fifth and sixth graders could sit with kids in different classes. A few minutes into the meal, the red-haired girl I’d seen the others pick on, sat down at Collette and Lexi’s table. Joelle filled me in. “That’s Francesca. She’d been a part of their crowd until a few months ago.”

  I thought of the story Rachel had recently shared; how they’d stolen the poor girl’s phone. If something bad happened to her under my watch, I’d be sure to get an aide. Collette and Lexi made faces behind Francesca’s back while everyone else at the table egged them on, then Collette made a slight adjustment to her posture and stance. Lexi mirrored her, and like a choreographed routine, each girl followed, one after another, rotating like dominos collapsing. They jerked their faces sideways and flipped their hair up in a perfectly coordinated dance of rejection. They stopped when all backs were upon the hapless Francesca. After looking at the human wall, she gave up, lifting and carrying her tray, stopping at the end of a nearby bench.

  As soon as Francesca sat down, the girls in the new table turned their bodies slightly, until they were also facing away, leaving her alone, with nothing to do but stare at the floor. I started to go over, but Joelle reminded me that parents weren’t permitted to involve themselves in the kids’ interactions; only aides could intervene.

  There wasn’t much anyone could do. Francesca sat alone, red-cheeked and frowning, staring at her watch. My heart broke as I witnessed the very public and final stage of the collapse of her social standing. Why had she become an object of scorn and derision? Joelle said there had been an incident during preseason volleyball this past summer, and that had landed the red-haired girl on Collette’s bad side. “It’s virtually impossible to come back from a DeVry grudge,” she whispered as I tried not to cringe.

  I looked and finally found an aide who walked over and asked Francesca if she was all right before going back to supervise a table of boys. I walked over and offered her another piece of pizza. She met my eyes and said, “No, thank you. I’m okay.” We both knew she wasn’t.