“So, Rach,” I’d said a couple of nights earlier, “I have a friend I want you to meet. His name is Jim.” She said very little which was her style—no reactions upfront, but there would be questions when I wasn’t expecting them.
We took the train into the city and got across town on the subway. As we emerged from Penn Station and I was asking myself for the millionth time, what if they didn’t get along, Rachel caught sight of the giant flatscreen above the Garden’s outdoor entrance. She was shivering. “Can we run to our seats?” she asked as I scanned the crowds for Jim.
“We can’t run. We have to find my friend, remember?” We headed for our agreed-upon meeting point in the huge putty-colored lobby. He was waiting by the turnstiles.
“Rachel, say hi to Jim.”
“Hi.” Rachel looked down at the floor, pushing her toe into the tile.
“Hi,” Jim said, reaching out to shake her hand. “I don’t know if you’ve been here before, but there’s a lot of great stuff to eat: giant hot dogs, chicken fingers, ice cream.”
Rachel tried to play it cool, but her face brightened at ice cream.
We stopped on the way to our seats. Jim and Rachel chose hot dogs, and I went with pizza. The meals were lukewarm, but the team sizzled, and Rachel’s analysis of the players and coaches made Jim laugh. When one of the Lakers tripped after fouling a NY player, she casually suggested that he might be better at soccer. Her friend Zoe had just switched from softball to tennis, and had found the latter to be a much better fit.
“You’re right. He probably should switch to another sport, judging from his stats and what I’ve seen so far tonight.” Jim looked like he was trying to keep from laughing.
“Rachel’s fun to be around,” he whispered. “And she’s beautiful, just like her mom.”
Before I could thank him, one of the Knicks made a three-point shot. Jim and Rachel jumped up from their seats at the same time and high-fived.
The game passed quickly. We clapped and shouted and finished our popcorn, and then it was time to leave. Since Jim had driven, we all rode home together.
“I’m glad the Knicks won,” Rachel said.
Jim nodded. “They have a really strong team this year.”
“So where do you live?” Rachel asked, emphasizing the word “you.”
“In Northfield.” He glanced at her in the rearview mirror.
“Near us, then.”
He nodded. “How do you like your new house?”
“It’s nice. Can you help me convince my mom to get a golden doodle?”
Uh-oh. Those were cute, but a pet would be too much for me to handle. “Why don’t you tell Jim what you’re reading?”
Rachel played along, eager to make a good impression. “Wonder,” she said.
“Great book. Inspiring.”
Rachel looked surprised that he’d read it. “Jim’s a middle school dean,” I said.
“I can see it,” Rachel said, smiling at him.
Mayfair was the next town off the parkway. I held my breath a little as Jim followed our directions, driving through the village and past the large homes in our part of town. He’d never driven me home in daylight before. I felt embarrassed about the long driveway, gigantic porch, and extra rooms. Would he be uncomfortable when he got a good look at the house?
“Wow. Beautiful place,” he said, surveying the grounds and large white home. His tone was matter-of-fact, and that made me happy. I had let him know it had been my aunt’s house. Once he’d parked, Rachel said thank you, and they did a little fist-bump before she went inside through the kitchen.
I was glad to be alone with him. “Thank you. For the tickets, for driving, for being so sweet to Rachel.” I kissed him, first on the lips, then both cheeks and finally on the sides of his neck.
“You’re feisty today,” he said, laughing.
“I’m happy we went. Thank you again.” I itched to check on Rachel, see how she was reacting to meeting Jim.
We kissed some more. “Normally I’d invite you in, but Rachel . . . . I’m not sure if it’s too much for her in one day. Is it okay to wait until next time?”
“It’s fine. I can wait.” He smiled and promised to call later.
After he drove off I went straight upstairs to Rachel’s room. “Time for a shower, sweetie.”
At bedtime I gave her a kiss, and was about to turn out the light when she stopped me.
“Mom?”
“Yes, honey.”
“Is Jim your boyfriend?”
“I guess that’s what you’d call it. Did you like him?”
I hoped she would say yes. I hadn’t even thought about what I’d do if she didn’t.
“He’s nice.”
“Good night, Rach.”
I was halfway down the hall.
“Mom?”
“Yes?”
“Come here.”
I backtracked until I was standing in front of the bedroom door. “You have to go to sleep, hon.”
“Are you going to marry him?”
That was a tough one. “Don’t know yet.”
“Will you tell me if you’re getting married?”
She’d already seen one disaster at the altar.
“If Jim and I do get married, you’ll be the first to know, sweetheart. Promise.”
Rachel frowned. “You never told me what happened with Colin.” She turned her head to the side, her thinking face. “It was weird that when you broke up, we moved here right after.”
My stomach clenched. “I know. It was a lot of changes at once.” I was glad she’d asked about my ex-fiancé and our move. “Want to talk about that?”
Rachel interrupted me. “Jim seems nice.”
“Don’t worry. It will be better this time. I’ll prepare you better, and go more slowly. And don’t forget, we’ll always be a team. I love you. Nothing could ever change that.”
I closed her door and exhaled deeply.
I’d done it: introduced Rachel and Jim. There was no turning back now.
Even though my daughter had been spending time with Maya, the school situation was far from settled. Today was the teacher meeting, and I was eager to hear what Ms. Franklin had to say. Arriving at the designated time and knocking on the classroom door, I found her at the computer working. “Hello, Dr. Bryant,” she said, coming toward me.
“Thank you for making time to see me, Ms. Franklin,” I said.
“Not at all. As it happens, I’m emailing parents to set up regular conferences.” She motioned toward a child-size table and chairs, and we sat down. I was low to the ground, and could see the whites of Hermione’s eyes on the Harry Potter rug in the reading corner next to us.
I glanced around at the map of the US and long division lesson on the walls and blackboard. “I know you have your hands full with eighteen kids and all the subjects you cover. Teachers can’t possibly see everything, but I’m not sure who else to talk to about this. ”
She leaned forward, listening intently. “Please tell me what you mean.”
“Well, even though Rachel’s adjusted to the new school, in terms of academics, she’s been struggling socially.”
A boy with a golden retriever shirt and glasses appeared in the doorway.
“Yes?” Ms. Franklin said as he swayed nervously.
“I’m here to feed the guinea pig.”
“Thank you, Lucas.”
It was the boy who’d been picked on at lunch. Ms. Franklin continued to speak. “Please tell your teacher, we’ll handle that today and I appreciate your diligence. You can feed him tomorrow, okay?”
Lucas nodded and rushed off.
“Sorry about that,” Ms. Franklin looked at me. “You were saying?”
“Since starting at Barnum this year, Rachel’s been having a hard time. I’m concerned something’s going on with the girls.”
The teacher gave me a sympathetic nod as I continued. “One time she was on the playground and went over to a group at the picnic table.” I p
aused, thinking I’d have to be careful with my phrasing. No teacher wants to hear a mom speak critically about a bunch of young kids. “So, uh, these three girls who’ve been friends forever were there. When Rachel walked over and sat down with them, they all got up, leaving her alone. I know they’re just eleven, but she was really hurt and embarrassed.”
Ms. Franklin sucked in her breath. “That’s terrible. We do work with them on a social developmental curriculum. We spend a few minutes each day and each child selects the word that best describes his or her mood. Plus, we speak about bullying, what constitutes an incident; about exclusion too, and what responsibility others have to help a child who is struggling—which reminds me, there’s going to be an assembly to teach kids about online safety.”
“I heard. But it seems like there’s one more thing I should mention. Rachel’s the new kid. Many of the others have been together for years, and their families socialize on weekends. I’m not sure how to help her break in. She doesn’t seem to be able to find anyone to hang around with, and I want to try to help her before it becomes an even bigger problem.”
“Of course. That makes sense. Let me speak to the other fifth grade teachers. They always have good ideas. Rachel does seem to enjoy spending time with Maya and one or two of the boys; you should know that. Also, I can move the kids around a little, see if that would spark a friendship.”
I nodded, appreciating the thought, but noticed she hadn’t asked who had walked off and left Rachel. Perhaps she already knew. Was she signaling that those girls were off-limits, as far as any type of discipline went? Or maybe she knew that it was better to steer my child in a different direction, which reminded me that I was glad to hear Rachel continued to hang around with Maya.
“Now, let me show you some of Rachel’s work.” She pulled out a math test, on which was written “100% Great Job!” and started rifling through a stack of papers, looking for other work to show me. “I wanted to tell you how pleased I am. Rachel’s academics are terrific.”
My spirits rose. As Ms. Franklin was reaching behind her, looking for a certain paper, her cell phone lit up with a text: “Hey, Frankie! Remember to save January 5th for the teacher appreciation luncheon—you deserve it. Lee.” I knew just who’d sent the text, and signed off with a kissing emoji.
My mood crashed, but I fixed a smile on my face. Even the teacher seemed to be under Lee’s thumb. This was the land of DeVry, and Rachel and I were trapped.
My panic rose. Nothing I did made a dent, whereas Lee had the power to wreak havoc in Rachel’s life. I was alone, and I alone could help my child.
The walls felt like they were closing in. Not only would I never forgive Lee for the nasty makeover comment, I’d just learned that her influence might even extend to the classroom. She had to be stopped.
A bell rang and scores of kids started running down the hall, screaming.
“I’d better get out of the way,” I managed to utter, leaving quickly as Ms. Franklin’s promised to keep an eye on the situation.
I was furious as I got into the car, vowing again to take a harder line so Lee would get the message and stop pushing us around. I’d also keep my eyes and ears open for information that would help me figure out my next step to protect Rachel.
The following weekend was Thanksgiving, our first without Aunt Pearl. Our plan was to visit Julie and Hal, but their older daughter, Carly, got a stomach virus, and we stayed home.
On Saturday, I invited Jim for a tawdry meet-up in a hotel. With Rachel having met him only once and the relationship still being relatively new, I didn’t feel comfortable having him spend the night, and since I wanted to spice it up, an assignation was the only way to go.
Rachel would be okay staying alone for a couple of hours, reading or watching TV. I told her I had a meeting one town over, and she could reach me on my cell.
“Of course I can stay home without a sitter,” she’d scoffed, rolling her eyes. “I’ve done it before—and I’m almost eleven!”
“What will you do?” I felt guilty about having fun without her.
Rachel scoffed. “I’ll read the next Harry Potter book, or Face-Time Zoe. I’ll figure it out, just go!”
So I did.
They put us in a quiet part of the hotel—it was far enough away from the house that I didn’t have to worry about running into anyone I knew, yet close enough to get home quickly if Rachel needed me.
“I am going to give you a massage,” I told Jim between kisses. We were all hot and heavy, and I was feeling adventurous. “Strawberry or yucca?” I asked, rubbing his back and shoulders with the hotel’s free moisturizer.
As Jim pulled me in for a kiss, my attempts at a full body massage were cast aside in favor of his more ardent agenda. We were sweaty and all tangled up. I forgot where I was as my sense of time evaporated.
After we’d made love, Jim ordered champagne. I couldn’t have much because I had to drive, but it was exciting and cozy to be sharing the hotel bed. I didn’t want our time to end.
An hour later I was putting on my dress and boots and sighing about how fast the afternoon had flown by. Jim pulled his jeans on and faced me with a huge grin. “This feels kind of cheap, you walking out of the hotel, abandoning me.”
I leaned over, nuzzling his neck. He always smelled so good.
Jim wrapped his arms around me again. He was such a great kisser. I wanted to stay, but it wasn’t right, me here enjoying myself, and my child sitting home with nothing to do and so few social connections. I dragged myself into the hallway and promised to text him later in the day.
I stopped and pulled out my phone to see if Rachel had messaged. There were no texts, and I was about to head for the elevator, when a sound in the hallway distracted me. The corridor was long, almost the length of a football field. Way down at the end, a couple was visible. There was something about their demeanor—the man glancing behind him before grabbing the woman’s hand—that made me tread slowly.
I inched forward, taking in the woman’s blond hair and noting the way she threw her head back and laughed. Something was familiar about her. Then I knew: it was Lee at the end of the hallway. I froze. The man with her wasn’t Jack.
I couldn’t tear my eyes away, and ducked down behind a room service cart so they wouldn’t see me. Lee whispered something in the man’s ear and the two of them laughed. He turned and scanned the hallway again. This time I got a good look.
I was grateful I’d crouched down and grabbed hold for support. That shaved head. Those intense blue eyes! I knew instantly the person holding hands in the hotel hallway and whispering with Lee was Jess’s husband, Peter.
Jess had been petty and unkind, laughing at my expense during the ladies’ night, cohosting a party for all the girls but Rachel. But even if she wasn’t my favorite person, she deserved better than this.
I watched them whisper and giggle, and my hatred for Lee grew. How many people did she need to harm, and how many lives would she ruin before she was stopped? I balled my hands into fists. Ouch. The edge of my cell phone was pressing into my hand.
My phone! Without thinking my actions through, I raised the cell slowly and tapped on the camera app. Jess’s husband leaned into Lee, as if on cue, and I captured them smiling at one another, visible directly above them the elevator dial. Peter whispered again as she smiled up at him. This time I enlarged the image before clicking on it. I now had a photo of the two of them, with Peter bending toward her and Lee tilting her chin toward him. They hugged and I snapped that too, before the elevator doors opened and they got in and rode upstairs together. The car stopped on the eleventh floor.
Lee was obviously sleeping with Peter. I steadied myself against the cart and stood up, my heart still pounding. She went around, campaigning for sympathy and accusing everyone else of engaging in bad behavior, while she was the one who was cheating—and with her best friend’s husband.
Which reminded me. I wasn’t sure how I’d use the incriminating photos. For the entire ri
de home I couldn’t shake the image of her and Peter, leaning toward each other, riding the elevator to the eleventh floor.
I pulled into my driveway and shut off the car. I needed a few minutes to clear my brain. My thoughts shifted to Rachel, how she’d been biding her time at home alone.
Later that evening, the two of us were in the living room watching TV. My cell phone rang. It was Sharon. I picked up immediately. Chatting would be a good distraction.
She entertained me with a story about a recent business lunch, and I was in the middle of telling her I’d be glad to drive Neil home on Friday, when she interrupted. “You sound like you could use a laugh. Well, get a load of this: I was at yoga, adjusting my mat before the final shavasana, when I heard two women going on and on about a parenting bulletin board, what a great resource it was.”
I had no idea such a thing existed outside of school. “Who even uses those nowadays?”
“I mean an electronic message board. And there are apparently a bunch of New York area parenting sites with postings and chat rooms. Some of the stuff is hilarious. There are even women bitching about their nannies and mahjong games.” That figured. “I’ll send you a link,” she added and we hung up, promising to make a plan soon.
As soon as Rachel was in bed, I clicked on the link in Sharon’s email and found advice, info, and a community at the ready. It was easy to see how people got lost in the virtual world.
I skimmed through #MeToo discussions, sample nanny agreements, and books about sibling rivalry. There was gossip about everything, from celebrities to the best exercise classes, as well as threads to live discussions. On one called “Neighborhood,” someone named “Cheerleader” was talking about her local PTA to a poster called “Bumblebee.” Clicking on the pom-pom icon, reading the words, “Location: Westchester County,” I felt a flutter in my chest. Cheerleader lived close by.
Barbarians at the PTA Page 14