The One I'm With

by Jamie Bennett

  Noise outside my classroom indicated the end of kindergarten recess. We didn’t have much time allowed for play in our days, even though I (privately) believed that most of them needed about double what we were given.

  “Time for me to go, my class will be back now too. I think that by second grade, I should be able to leave twenty kids without my supervision without any problems, but the admins here don’t seem to agree,” Jolie said, rising from her tiny chair. “It would probably work out great if I let them run free for a while. Seven-year-olds are very trustworthy.”

  “You’re right, most likely they’d be fine. They wouldn’t put their fingers into that new electric pencil sharpener you got,” I counseled her. She waved and walked faster.

  “I found this behind the table where you were directing the children as they cut out the paper ornaments,” Mrs. Rosse told me a few hours later, as we straightened up the classroom at the end of the day. She held up a large hunk of brown hair and sniffed, loudly. “Weren’t you watching them as they used the scissors? You always need to be aware that these are five- and six-year-old children,” she reminded me, in case I had forgotten. “They can’t be trusted to use good judgement. You have to keep an eye on them at all times.” She sprinkled the hair above the garbage can and we both watched it fall in. Someone had a new, large bald spot, if I was any judge of homemade haircuts. And sadly, after my short time as a kindergarten teacher, I was. I expected calls and emails shortly.

  “Thank you for your input, Mrs. Rosse,” I told her calmly. Freaking witch. She sniffed.

  She continued to let me know that it was wrong to let children cut their own hair as I gathered my things. I nodded and checked the flight app on my phone. Brooks was in the air over Nevada right now. No, there were other things to focus on: I had to rethink the distribution of the speaking parts for our holiday performance since it had become clear that Samantha really wouldn’t open her mouth on stage; I needed to check in with the one poor mom who had gotten stuck making 15 child-size cardboard teeth costumes. And besides that, I had to find a Christmas gift for my mom, and one for Kristian, probably. She would be angry if I ignored him during the gift-giving, as tacky as she found it. Brooks would pass over Utah, next. I wondered what he would be doing in New York for Christmas.

  “Did you hear what I said? I was suggesting that tomorrow, the students should practice their lines for their scene in our Holiday Expo,” Mrs. Rosse said as I put on my raincoat. “Perhaps you hadn’t considered that they’ll be performing in front of the entire student body, all the teachers and administrators, and of course, the parents. They do need to rehearse that thing you’ve chosen.” Sniff. She didn’t care for my poem selection. She held up a pair of small, pink scissors. “And regarding the hair cutting, it’s quite serious, something I feel that you are not grasping. Perhaps I should speak to Shirley in the office—”

  I felt a flash of anger and wanted to tell her to shove it. But I reminded myself to speak calmly. She was older and had more experience, it was true. And also, according to Jolie, this woman was our boss’s informant. “Mrs. Rosse, I’m aware that children shouldn’t be allowed to cut their hair in school. I will watch more carefully so that it doesn’t happen again.”

  She looked like she didn’t believe that. “About the show—” she started in again.

  “I also understand the significance of the Starhurst Holiday Expo,” I said quickly. “I attended this school, I taught here last year, and I’ve gotten all the emails reminding us of how important it is, too. I don’t plan to let the kids go up on stage and wing it. I have many practices scheduled for this week and next. You don’t need to worry, I’ll hold up the kindergarten tradition of cuteness.” If those damn teeth costumes got finished. It was supposed to have been done by committee but parent volunteers were in short supply for my class this year.

  Mrs. Rosse sniffed and frowned. What if I ever told her what was really in my mind? Like, “You smell like mothballs. Sniff on that, you nasty old bat.” I almost smiled as I thought it. Maybe I should say, “Go run and tell Shirley that I’m letting the kids do the naked scene in Hair in the Expo.” They were actually reciting “All I Want for Christmas Is My Two Front Teeth,” which was the cutest thing I had ever seen, even though they really, really didn’t know their lines yet.

  She was still sniffing and frowning as I left for the day. I drove home, boldly turning into the driveway with the engine still running, and slammed my car door with a satisfying thud. I was here, it announced, but it didn’t matter anyway, because I didn’t see anything going on in my mom’s house. I walked around the back to sit down for just a moment, then I would start working on our costume issue, and figure out what Samantha could do besides speak in the Holiday Expo, and then Maisie and I would go for a run. Well, she would go for a ride, I would be her willing transport.

  Lights were on in my guest house and Ava and my mom were seated in the small living room, Maisie asleep on Ava’s extremely gorgeous boot. My dog didn’t even lift her head when I came in, just cocked up one of her little dog eyebrows then snuffled happily.

  I put down the bags of school stuff that I was carrying. “Hi,” I said, staring at the three of them. “Can I help you with something? Is the guest house more comfortable than your office in the city, mom?”

  She smiled and stood up to come kiss me hello. Her hands went immediately to my hair, smoothing it, tucking it behind my ears, and I made myself stand still rather than push her away. “Go look in the bedroom,” she directed me. “I went shopping for you by myself since you didn’t get back to me about it. You needed some new things.” She looked down at my outfit, clearly unhappy with it.

  “Oh. Thank you.” I didn’t move. “Is that why you guys are here?”

  “I also had the idea to redecorate this space. We’re going to redo the bathroom, the kitchenette, the flooring. Paint everything, it’s so drab. Anything else, Ava?”

  “Update the HVAC,” Ava said, looking at her phone. Maisie made another noise and Ava stared down at her, seemingly perplexed.

  I bent and picked up my bad dog and she huffed angrily. She was a terrible judge of character. “Why right now, Mom? What’s going on?”

  She studied me. “It needs it, don’t you think? Construction will begin next Monday.”

  My stomach dropped. “I won’t be able to find another place to live by then.”

  “No, of course not. You’ll move back into the main house temporarily and look for another house from there. It’s time, Lanie. You need to spread your wings.”

  “Most twenty-four-year-olds enjoy not living with their mothers,” Ava pointed out, with an extremely condescending nod at me.

  Why did Maisie like her so much? “Thanks for that tip, Ava. I don’t live with my mother, l live across the yard,” I told her haughtily, but it really didn’t sound too good.

  “Ava, tile again?” my mom asked, moving on. She looked down at the floor. “I’ve always hated the guest house. I’m so glad we’re making this change.”

  I looked at the floor, too, trying to be glad that I had already known this was coming, so at least I didn’t cry or something in front of my mom and Ava.

  ∞

  “Aw!” The audience was cooing over my cute kindergarteners as they marched up on stage in their costumes. They were all dressed in white with a large carboard tooth hanging off their fronts, even Felix. I had taken his nanny aside and spoken to her directly about costume needs so he was prepared, unlike the Thanksgiving feast when every other kid had on a turkey or pilgrim outfit, except him.

  I stood in front of the stage, my back to the audience, praying, praying, that there was nothing on my butt, and resisting the urge to look over my shoulder to check or to discretely pass my hand over my lower regions to feel for something amiss. I didn’t hear swells of laughter, like what had happened in our Junior Ring Ceremony in high school when someone had opened a packet of soy sauce on the back of my white skirt so that it looked like I’d
had a terrible case of diarrhea before I walked up on the stage in this same auditorium. I held up my hands and nodded and the kindergarteners watched me carefully. We had rehearsed, and rehearsed, and rehearsed. They knew what to do, and they were trying so hard, it was completely adorable.

  Caydence stepped forward and said her line, then Tobias, then Samantha and Mac together, holding hands because she was scared. “Awww!” the audience chorused. It was going so well. I felt my grinding jaw relax a little. Felix, then Emilia, then Katrina. It was almost over. Quaid stepped forward and took the microphone from Katrina, and the big Santa hat he had insisted on wearing came down over his eyes a little. He pushed it back up, struggling to hold the mike at the same time, and stepped forward again. He almost dropped the microphone and as he grabbed for it, the hat fell down again, completely covering his face. I should have insisted that he take it off, but he had been so excited about Christmas…

  “Quaid, stay there, stop walking,” I called to him. “Don’t worry about your hat! Hold up the microphone and say your line.”

  He didn’t really listen. He started to speak, but he also stepped forward again, right off the edge of the stage.

  “Quaid!” I yelled, and I dove.

  And I caught him, and he landed on top of me as we hit the floor.

  “Ms. March, are you ok?” a little voice called from above us.

  “I’m fine, kids,” I called, although I was fairly certain that my stomach had been shoved to a new spot in my body by Quaid’s weight falling directly on it.

  “I see your underwear!” one of my kids yelled. “It’s pink!”

  Was my skirt pulled up? Oh, God. Laughter hooted through the auditorium. Please, let lava cover me up like Pompeii.

  Hands picked up Quaid, who was crying from fright but uninjured. The PE teacher lifted me to my feet, where I stood awkwardly in front of the hundreds of pairs of eyes in the audience: parents, students, colleagues, and bosses. “I’m fine,” I called, my voice wobbling. I touched my forehead and felt a little blood from where the edge of his tooth costume had caught me, but it was no big deal, I told myself. I hugged Quaid and he wiped snot on the skirt that had come back down over my underwear. Mrs. Rosse was already ushering my other students off the stage and Shirley hurried out to announce the next act.

  “Thank you, Ms. March, for stepping into that breach, and wonderful job by our kindergarten class!” she said into the microphone. I held Quaid’s hand and limped off to meet my students and help them remove the carboard teeth. There was half-hearted clapping, more laughter and talking. I swore that I could hear Coco’s high-pitched giggle above the din. I smiled too, to show that I was fine and that flashing the audience hadn’t bothered me at all. Another day, another humiliation at Starhurst Academy, no biggie. School was now out for the holiday break and by the new year, maybe they would have forgotten some.

  I held Quaid’s hand tighter and I absolutely didn’t cry.

  ∞

  I had shopped for two days for this dress, gone and gotten my hair done, worked for 45 minutes on my makeup. This was as good as it was going to get. I waited for my mom’s verdict.

  “I can see you made such an effort,” she said kindly, as she motioned for me to pirouette in front of her in her dressing room. I did, reluctantly. “Is that the dress you’re planning to wear? We could have shopped for something new for you.”

  It was a new dress. “This is what I’m wearing,” I said instead.

  “Here, I have an idea.” She opened her safe and pulled out a jewelry case. “Your father gave these to me when we were dating.” She handed me a pair of cabochon-cut emerald earrings. “You should have them. In fact, I’ll just give you most of the jewelry I got from your father. It seems disrespectful to Kristian to wear those pieces now.” She looked at the thick, diamond rope wrapped around her arm.

  “Thank you,” I said, and simultaneously wanted to slap her. She had been married to my father for more than 20 years and now she was handing off his gifts because of the new guy she had known fewer than 20 months. I turned to the mirror and put on the emeralds, remembering my mom wearing them, remembering my parents together. They were beautiful.

  “They make your eyes look green,” my mom said, sounding surprised. “Don’t they look unusual?”

  I glanced at myself in the mirror. My dark eyes did look kind of pretty. “Thank you,” I said again, although I wasn’t sure there had been a compliment in her statement. “Are you almost ready? Do you still want to go together?”

  “Oh, no. Kristian wants to drive his new car. We’ll meet you at the party, Lanie.” She turned back to the mirror.

  My mom had given him the tiny, sleek, extremely expensive sportscar as a Christmas gift, and it was a two-seater. When I had heard about it coming, I ordered him a pair of fuzzy dice that he could hang from the rearview mirror. I didn’t think he would like them at all.

  I drove myself over to Pamela Wolfe’s house for her traditional Christmas party, because, unlike my mom, she didn’t think that holiday parties were tacky. She had moved out of the giant mansion overlooking San Francisco Bay after Scarlett had gone off to college, but her new house in Ross wasn’t exactly what you’d call petite. I left my car with the valet, wishing that I could have come with my mom, as we used to do. I hated going in by myself.

  Pamela came over right away when I walked in, shivering because I had left my coat in the car. “Lanie, sweetheart! My God, you look just breathtaking!”

  She was such a nice lady. “Thank you, Mrs. Wolfe.”

  “I’m Pamela to you,” she said. “Is your mother here?” She looked over my shoulder.

  “She and Kristian are coming later. In his new car, his Christmas present from my mom. He wrote her a poem as her gift,” I said, and it sounded pretty snide, making me feel a little ashamed of myself.

  Pamela laughed. “I’m not going to say what I’m thinking, besides to tell you again, you’re just stunning.” She paused. “You know I mean that, don’t you? It isn’t only pleasant party conversation.” I shrugged and said thank you again, and she smiled up at me. “Let’s get you a cocktail. Several. You can get a car home and leave yours here.” On the way over to the bar, we stopped and chatted with several more people that I knew. “Are you limping?” Pamela asked me quietly.

  “Not really. I had a little fall, but it’s fine.” More like, I’d done a little dive to catch a small, falling body and something unusual had happened to my left ankle. I had determined that I was going to wear this particular pair of shoes if it freaking killed me, and with the difficulty I’d had walking from the driveway to the house, I thought it might.

  “What happened?” Pamela asked, very concerned. “Were you out on in the hills and slipped? Zara has been telling me how muddy it is as she’s training for her next marathon.”

  “No, I wasn’t training for a marathon.” The whole story about catching Quaid as he plummeted off the stage just wasn’t something I wanted to get into. I tugged a little at the hair over my forehead to make sure it covered the scratch. “I just kind of fell. I’m fine.”

  “Oh my God, Lanie!” Pamela’s older daughter Zara greeted me from the bar as we approached. “Are you all right? I can’t believe what you did at the Holiday Expo at school yesterday!” She turned to her husband and the assorted guests standing with her. “Lanie fell off the stage in front of the entire student body and all the parents and teachers. She completely wiped out. It was terrible!”

  “I didn’t exactly fall,” I started to explain. “Not off the stage, anyway. I was in front—”

  “She took a child down with her,” Zara said, and her sister Scarlett nodded, like she knew.

  “No!” I protested. “I did not fall and hurt a child. One of my students was blinded by his oversized Santa hat and walked off the edge of the stage. I caught him so he didn’t hurt himself. And we both fell, together.”

  “Oh no, that’s why you’re limping?” Pamela got a funny look on her face. She
was trying not to laugh.

  Ok, God, I could see that a woman making a Supergirl leap to save a kid dressed as a holiday tooth was kind of funny. Now, it was. I smiled. “The poor little guy, he was so upset. He kept saying he had ruined Christmas. Until the Spanish teacher got him a cookie from the treat table in the lobby, and then he just wanted to talk about that.”

  Pamela burst out laughing and I smiled again.

  “What’s so funny, Mom?”

  Oh. Wow.

  “Brooks, what are you doing back in town?” I asked, and it came out like a purr. Suddenly, I realized I had found it: my inner Mae West. I kind of loved it.

  “I couldn’t stay away,” he told me, and smiled. “I may have found another investor here in Marin. It’s—” He stopped. “I came home to lock it down,” he said instead.

  “That’s wonderful,” I said, and damn it, I giggled, ruining my Mae.

  “Lanie was just telling us how she tripped and hurt a child,” Scarlett said.

  “No, that’s not what happened,” I snapped back, and I told the whole stupid story from the beginning, how much we had practiced, and how Quaid insisted on the “lucky” Santa hat and how he was one of my smallest guys and it was just too big for him, continuing the story up until the moment when we were both prone on the floor. The only thing I left out was my skirt yanking up, but Zara filled everyone in about that. The bitch.

  “Lanie, it sounds just like your sophomore year, when you were supposed to give the award to the journalism teacher, and you tripped on the cord on the stage and dropped the award and broke it,” Scarlett sniggered.

  “Someone held up the cord and I fell over it,” I said.

  “Ok, sure,” Scarlett answered, and rolled her eyes at the crowd.

  “I was tripped on purpose,” I repeated, but I muttered it.

  “Hey, Lanie, come look at the tree,” Brooks said, and he put his arm around me. “My mom let Zara’s kids decorate it and they only did the bottom third. It looks amazing.” As he led me away, I heard Zara explaining that her kids were really decorating geniuses, but unfortunately, they were short. It wasn’t their fault, the whole naked tree deal.