Barbarians at the PTA

by Stephanie Newman

  “I ignored her. She went back to Collette and Hannah, and they started whispering.” Rachel shook her head. “I was embarrassed, but Neil and his friend said Katie was really lame, and then Maya imitated how she snuck over. Whatever.”

  I got up and walked over to where Rachel was sitting. “Anything else?” Rachel hesitated.

  “Well, Mrs. DeVry was there during the rehearsal. She was holding her phone up, taking photos because she wanted to do a montage for the end of the year.”

  I nodded. What now?

  “So . . . Lexi and Collette were standing near Katie and this girl from the other class, Hannah, and Ms. F, my teacher, asked a few of us to gather for a photo, and she put me near Katie, Collette and Lexi.” Rachel paused for breath, “and then she ran off because this boy Lucas was pushed down to the ground.”

  No adult supervision. This sounded bad.

  “I was standing in between Collette and Lexi, near Katie, when Mrs. DeVry came over and held up her phone to take a picture. In front of everyone she said, ‘Rachel, please step out of the photo. You don’t belong in it.’ Everyone was whispering and staring when I moved aside. It was so embarrassing.” Rachel started crying, but shook me off when I went to comfort her.

  “I’m glad your friends stuck up for you on the playground. As for Mrs. DeVry, honey, just ignore her. You have your own friends now. If she’s that petty, well . . . .” I wondered what to say, how to wrap things up.

  Rachel laughed. “How about just saying, ‘Who needs her?’ I have my group and I don’t care what she or her kid says or does. I’m over it.”

  I felt like applauding. Instead, I kissed her, and extracted a promise that she’d go to bed within twenty minutes.

  I went back into the chat room. In a Neighborhood conversation, Cheerleader had been active a couple of days ago, posting “#MissionAccomplished,” and bragging about “putting people in their place.” She was probably talking about the Juul. I bookmarked the exchange.

  The next day I was at the office, happy to be engaged in meaningful work, but exhausted after the most recent travails. It had been a long day and I was ready to go home.

  But first I had to see a couple that was worried aboout their twelve-year-old son who was performing below expectations. Phil, the dad, ranted about Xboxes, while Jen, the mom, described hiring tutors.

  “Hard as it is, you have to let him wrestle with this problem, resist the urge to fix it. Sometimes a kid just has to fail,” I said, aware of the irony.

  My thoughts went to Rachel, and how she’d struggled socially all year. Lee had seen to that. My pulse began to race, but I forced myself to focus. Jen was speaking. “You promised to discuss the below-the-belt stuff today,” she said as Phil rolled his eyes. “I’m sick of being criticized for everything I do.” They sat silently, staring in opposite directions.

  I was angry with myself for getting distracted and with Lee for invading my thoughts, but pushed my personal difficulties to the side. “Sometimes couples get into knots. Let’s hit pause on the anger, live through this together, and consider how you two tend to resolve things.” I turned to Jen. “You prefer to broach your grievances and clear the air.” She nodded as I looked at Phil. “You hear Jen’s feelings as criticisms, and pull back. And I think this causes even more hurt feelings, making her want to talk more directly, and you, in turn, retreat even further. Together, you perpetuate a never-ending cycle of conflict and emotional pain.” The hour ended with Phil smiling at his wife and grabbing her hand on the way out.

  During the ride home I thought about Jen and Phil, and how they were deeply bonded to one another. Their interactions were sometimes tense, but always loving, authentic, and meaningful. And then it hit me: I’d been pulled into the sandbox with Lee, but I didn’t have to remain there or continue to lower myself to her level. People and relationships were what mattered, not winning at power plays or getting even.

  I began to feel ashamed for focusing so keenly on gathering intel and seeking revenge. I liked the work I did, and felt at home being a caregiver. I didn’t want to stir up additional discord in my community.

  My doubts about using the speaking gig at the PTA workshop and getting even nagged for the entire ride home and throughout the evening.

  Seeing the couple also made me think about Jim. Even if he had someone new, he deserved an apology. I’d have to figure out a way to make that happen sooner rather than later.

  The following Saturday, we were at Rachel’s first soccer game. I watched the opening. She had starting at midfield and didn’t want me to miss a minute, but it was cold, so I ran to the car to get the blanket we kept in the trunk for such occasions. Rooting around under the rear hatchback, I heard voices.

  “This isn’t our second grade Brownie troupe. You’re a grown woman. Act like it.”

  “I’m the one renting the condo in The Caymans, and I get to say who I invite.”

  I couldn’t resist peeking out. It was Jess, car key in hand, standing with Audrey. Both were wearing matching exercise clothes and formfitting jackets. Since their daughters were also on the team, I assumed they’d left the bleachers around the same time I had, and wondered why they were squaring off in the school parking lot. “It may be your condo rental, but Lee can’t stand Phoebe. You’re asking for trouble,” Audrey said.

  “But Phoebe invited us to her destination birthday. You put the photos all over Facebook.”

  They were now heading in my direction. I slid out and leaned on the back of my car.

  “Phoebe will just have to get over it. Lee will make your life—and Lexi’s—hell . . . .”

  They stopped talking the second they spotted me. I thought I saw Jess blush.

  Audrey seemed annoyed at being caught off-guard. “You know what they say about eavesdroppers, Victoria.”

  I shook my head. “Let’s not do this, Audrey.”

  I closed the hatchback and left them open-mouthed, then strode back to the field, hugging the blanket to my chest. As I stepped away, I thought again that I wanted to use my presentation at the Cyber Crimes Workshop for good, teach people about internet safety, and explain the psychological toll bullying has on kids and adults.

  As clear as I was about not wanting to be divisive, there was still the matter of the Juul. Assuming Lee had planted it in Rachel’s backpack—and, again, who else would have had access or motive?—I intended to let her know privately that I was onto her and ready to get even. As long as it wasn’t against the law or in violation of my profession ethics, I’d do what I could to stop her from doing further damage.

  Sharon texted. Tonight was the PTA karaoke night. With all the other goings-on, I’d almost forgotten about it. Few things sounded less appealing than singing show tunes with Lee and her pals. I told Sharon an old war injury was acting up, rendering me unable to hold a mic or hit a high C, but she ignored me. “Well then, I’ll have to use my “get out of jail free” card,” I said.

  “Nope,” she said. “You promised, and we’ve already paid for the tickets. Pick me up at seven thirty.”

  “No way I’m dressing up though.” Being forced to attend a school-sponsored event brought out the oppositional teen in me.

  At least Rachel was taken care of. She’d been invited to dinner at Neil’s. I closed up the office and did a quick check in the restroom mirror. I was good to go in a black dress, silk scarf, and heels. I never usually accessorized, but it made a difference.

  Before I knew it, Sharon was sliding into my passenger seat. Her metallic silk tank top and gold mesh earrings were fun. “You look so pretty,” I said, trying to get into a party frame of mind.

  “Thanks. You too. I’ve actually been looking forward to this. Mike got home early and is watching the kids. I’m sure the place will be a disaster when I get back.”

  Fifteen minutes later, we drove up and parked in front of a white brick building with a sign that said, “Dorry’s Bar.”

  “Let’s get a drink,” Sharon said, pulling me toward
the bar. We joined a gaggle of women dressed in tight jeans, heels, and tank tops. Almost everyone had a killer blowout; I smoothed my flyaway hair, looked around the room, and waved at Joelle from cafeteria duty before turning my attention back to my Sharon.

  The line for alcohol was three deep. After being served, we stepped into the middle of the room, making way for new arrivals.

  “I feel like I’m back in college,” Sharon said.

  “Can you believe we all used to do this on a regular basis? Go out and party with friends?” I asked.

  She nodded. “It was another life.”

  “We could dress Neil and Rachel up and force them to go out drinking and dancing with us?”

  “As long as the club has an Xbox, Neil’s in.” We laughed and then overheard one of the women suggesting karaoke. All it took was some pink stuff in a highball glass (a lot of pink stuff actually), and we were ready to meander over to watch everyone sing.

  “I’ll find you. Need to use the restroom,” I mouthed. Sharon nodded, and I made my way there.

  As I was reaching for the door, a tall woman with long blond hair emerged and nearly banged into me. It was Phoebe, Lee and Jess’s on-the-outs friend, who’d blown me off that morning at the basketball game. “Hello, how are you?” I said, trying to use my most pleasant small-talk voice.

  She looked me up and down. “Are you coming from work?”

  I made a joke about a mom’s night being just the cure for a long day at the office and moved into the safety of the stall, hoping she’d be gone when I’d finished. I lingered a moment or two longer than necessary, but as I emerged from the restroom, still came face-to-face with Phoebe, who looked like she was about to say something, until she saw Lee moving across the room. She rushed to catch up, calling a hurried goodbye over her shoulder.

  Wow. I stifled a laugh, as I made my way back to where Sharon was standing by the side of the bar. Phoebe just has to climb.

  Lee, Jess, and Audrey were by a window, whispering as usual. Giving into my hatred for Lee would ruin my entire evening, so I decided to be cheery, act like she and her friends meant nothing to me, and smile. Lee waved back, and then Jess and Audrey got in on it too, grinning and nodding.

  I sighed at the absurdity of it and told myself that now that Rachel had a firmer footing with some other kids, all of those women had become irrelevant.

  Scanning the room, the smiling faces, I recalled how Sharon had watched Rachel a few times when I couldn’t, how Maureen had warned me about her friend’s history, and how some people had been welcoming, nice, and helpful.

  There was good in Mayfair.

  I was deciding whether or not to get another drink when I spotted someone familiar on a barstool, did a double take and froze. It was Jim. What was he doing there?

  “The guy I used to date is over there,” I said to Sharon. “You see him, the tall guy?” I nodded toward a smaller bar on the other side of the room, and Sharon nearly dropped her glass. “Stop staring,” I hissed as she craned her neck.

  “Jim, right? He’s hot.” Sharon giggled and elbowed me.

  “I’ve had one too many. I’m afraid I’ll say something I’ll regret. I’m calling an Uber and getting out of here.”

  I snuck into the front entrance hall. When the car arrived, I sank into the back seat, but not before I managed to dump the contents of my purse all over the floor. I groped for my phone in the darkness, and texted Julie, “Can you talk?” I added a heart for effect.

  “Surprised you wrote,” came the response.

  Call it a slip of the finger. I had texted Jim, inadvertently entering “Ji” instead of “Ju” in my contacts.

  My pulse raced at the sight of his name on my phone. Even though he’d moved on so quickly—the memory of the other woman in the photos still stung—he still deserved an apology. I knew it was wrong to omit the Colin story and accuse him of siding with Lee. I wanted to own my part in the breakup.

  Emboldened by the Cosmos, I wrote back. “Would it be possible for us to speak sometime? I’d like to apologize.”

  He answered immediately. “Will come over. Please let me in.”

  I was too exhausted to argue.

  Jim looked almost haggard when he arrived. Blame the pink stuff, for better or worse. My guard was down, and I felt a familiar excitement as I opened the door.

  I took a close look as he walked into the house. His eyes were hollow and his skin was pale. I had no idea what he’d say and was glad Rachel was asleep and wouldn’t be subjected to a messy show.

  We went into the living room, where he sat on the sofa and I took the chair to his left. I inhaled deeply and spoke from the heart. “Thank you for coming by. I wanted to apologize. I should have told you about my engagement and breakup at the altar before you heard it from someone else. That must have hurt, having it sprung on you, and in public.” I felt a tear slide down my cheek and quickly brushed it away. “And I’m sorry for accusing you of siding with Lee. That was ridiculous. I didn’t mean to involve you in that whole mess.”

  Jim was studying me closely. What was he thinking? I exhaled again. “You probably have to get on the road. It’s late. Thanks for hearing me out.”

  Jim looked miserable. “Victoria . . . I accept your apology. I’ve been out of my mind. Things were great, and then we argued after the thing at Lee’s. I also said some things about not trusting you. I know that being a single mom is hard, and you were protecting Rachel. I’m sorry too. I never meant . . . . I’ve missed you so much.”

  The look in his eyes was sad, raw. But even if he was hurting, so was I. He’d asked for the break with no attempt to work it out or give me a second chance, and that was painful. And there were other problems—for starters, his new red-haired girlfriend. Our mutual apology hadn’t stopped the ache that had taken over my chest, the sadness that filled me.

  He shifted awkwardly on the sofa.

  “Jim, please don’t act like you care, and say things you don’t mean . . . .” My voice cracked and tears were sliding down my face.

  He reached out and pulled me onto the sofa. Our shoulders were touching and he held my hand. For a second, I wanted to melt into him. Then, I thought again of the redhead.

  “Why are you hanging out at Dorry’s anyway?” I asked.

  Jim sighed. “It’s a long story.”

  “Come on. I know about her.” A shiny tear slid down my cheek.

  “Who? There’s no one else.”

  “Please don’t do this. I know you’re seeing someone. I saw the photos on Facebook.”

  “What photos? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  I grabbed my phone, and clicked on the site. I typed until the images of him and the smiling woman appeared. Jim leaned in and stared. I watched as he scrolled down and did a double take at the sight of the photos: he and the redhead in Yankees caps; the two of them seated in a hot tub; and one of them arm-in-arm in front of a skating rink.

  Jim started to speak, but couldn’t seem to find the words. “Listen, Vic. I know this sounds crazy, but I’m not seeing this woman.”

  The stakes felt so high I could barely breathe. Jim was actually telling me he hadn’t met someone else? I was sobbing now.

  Jim shook his head. “I don’t get it. The photos are two years old. These are pictures of me and Tonya.” He looked really upset, and then tugged on his earlobe. It killed me when he did that; it was so adorable. I felt my resolve waning.

  If that’s the case, why did these pop up now? And why wouldn’t your friends tell you they were up?” I said.

  “Good questions, but you have to believe me. This is the absolute first I’ve heard about it. See!?” He was pointing to the friend column. There were only three listed. “I never use Facebook. I’m not into it. I never monitor my profile or use the site. And my ‘Facebook friends’ use it less than I do. It’s just not something any of us guys are interested in.” Jim stopped talking and looked into the distance for a minute. “I can’t believe this .
. . .”

  I waited. All of a sudden Jim got a strange expression on his face and let out a groan, then stared straight into my eyes. “You weren’t wrong; what you said that evening in my apartment.” He rubbed his temples as I tried to follow his line of thought. “Lee took the pictures a couple of years ago. I’d forgotten about it. Tonya and I had gone away for the weekend with her and Jack. We broke up like five minutes after we got home that Sunday night, so I never saw any of these photos, but I recognize the inn in the background.”

  He scrolled through the site. “Look,” he said, handing the phone to me.

  The site was open to Lee’s profile. She had recently posted the photos, tagging Jim so they appeared on his page. My fury rose. I’d fallen victim to that woman and her machinations yet again.

  Jim’s look was part shocked, part angry. He stared into the distance. “I don’t get it. She has everything. Jack’s a great guy. They have two beautiful daughters and a gorgeous house, and they seem so happy. I can’t believe she’d do something like this.”

  He reached for my hand. “Now, sitting here with you, I guess I’m having a light bulb moment. The only explanation for these photos is that she wanted to mess with us.”

  My anger immediately mixed with relief. Even if Lee had deliberately put up damning pictures on her Facebook page to cause confusion and drive a wedge between Jim and me—the lengths to which she would go no longer surprised me—her post meant that Jim wasn’t involved with the redhead! If I hadn’t been emotionally drained and physically exhausted, I would have jumped up and down.

  Jim spoke softly. “Vic, I swear I had no idea these were up, and I haven’t even seen Tonya in a couple of years. His eyes were raw. I’ve been out of my mind, kicking myself because I was too hard on you that night. But I was embarrassed and hurt. I’ve wished a thousand times I could take back what I said about not trusting you and asking for a break. I really regret that. Even if you held back at times, you never lied or gave me reason to doubt you. So I’m sorry. I’ve even hung out at the Starbucks near your office up here, hoping to run into you.”