The PTA moms ruled Cherry Road Elementary, much as the cool kids ruled in high school. The mothers set the trends. As much as Elizabeth, in theory, wanted to stand up to them, she often found herself swept along, just as in every aspect of her life. She could not deny how much the PTA helped make the school a better place. They did tremendous amounts of fundraising, which afforded the school the newest technology. They provided enrichment programs. The PTA made Cherry Road a unique school, and Elizabeth appreciated it. However, all of that took hours and hours of volunteer time. With Cherry Road being in a relatively upscale neighborhood, many of the mothers did not work outside the home (Elizabeth considered that all mothers worked; some just had a paying job in addition to their twenty-four, seven, three-sixty-five one). Elizabeth was starting off a notch or two down on the social ladder because she worked. Then, because of that, in addition to the amount that Peter traveled, it was hard for her to volunteer as much was as deemed necessary. Peter did not necessarily support financial contribution to the PTA ("We pay enough in taxes, God dammit!"), so the Zurlo family did not always have good participation in the (seemingly endless) fundraisers. Elizabeth had vowed that with two kids in the school, she would do more and win favor with the PTA moms.
Here she was, thirty-four years old and bound by the same social pressures that had so affected her in high school. Back then, she had bounced from group to group, always on the outside. Sure she'd had friends but they were the misfits, just like her. She had not been successful in navigating the social scene then, but she was bound and determined not to make any of the same errors this time, when her children would have to pay the price. This time, the pressures were not on her directly to shop in the right stores, to disobey authority or to put out; rather they were to buy all organic fruits and vegetables and make impossibly ornate snacks for second graders and volunteer for all the right events. And Elizabeth knew that working full time, she could not compete with the stay-at-home busybody mothers who spent all day combing Pinterest for the next best thing. Frankly, Elizabeth could not care less if her fruits were organic. Elizabeth had better things to do with her rare free time then carve out twenty-four individual oranges, leaving the orange peel intact, carving jack-o'-lantern faces in them and stuffing them with grapes for the Halloween party. Seriously, who really had time for that?
As Elizabeth parked her mini-van, she looked in the mirror and yet again groaned. She should have combed her hair. She looked down at her khakis and boxy shirt. She was rumpled, but only slightly splotched. She ran her fingers through her hair to smooth it down, and dug into the depths of her purse to find a lip-gloss. Hopefully, she did not look as bad as she felt. She encouraged the children one more time to be on their best behavior and about their spending cap before they trudged into school.
She quickly found Nancy Beemer, the PTA president. Nancy was the popular girl, the homecoming and prom queen, just in adult form. She was, as usual, efficiently running the set up, barking out instructions. Sometimes, Elizabeth felt that Nancy scared people into submission. Other times, she just wanted Nancy to take her under her wing. If she could impress Nancy, then maybe Nancy would protect her from the scrutiny she had previously faced. Nancy's tanned face smiled when she saw Elizabeth enter the gym. "Great Elizabeth, you're here—" The smile faded and her voice trailed off when she saw Teddy and Sydney in tow. "Oh, your kids are here too."
Elizabeth looked down at her feet, like a scolded child. "Yeah, sorry about that. I'm playing single mom for a while. My husband is away on business, and I didn't want to leave you short-handed here."
Nancy recovered quickly. "Oh, I appreciate that." Her tone turned a little condescending. "But single moms rarely get to play. We'll see how long your children can last. You can work until then."
Nancy marched on to the next volunteer. Elizabeth never knew how to feel after speaking with Nancy. She was one of those women who never left the house without make-up on and her honey highlighted hair perfectly coiffed. Elizabeth always wondered how she could do as much work as she did without ever becoming mussed. Nancy's son, John, was a year older than Teddy. Predictably, John was involved in every activity possible. And Nancy was always there. Running things, in charge. Every so often, Elizabeth saw Nancy's husband at some event. She thought she remembered that the husband, an older man with apparently a very good job (or private fortune) was not actually John's father, as John had a different last name. She never heard the full story. Sometimes, with an envious thought, Elizabeth wanted to be just like Nancy—put together, in control and sure of who she was.
Elizabeth silently thanked the powers that be when Teddy and Sydney found some friends to play with and amused themselves while Elizabeth served her hour volunteer duty. She even managed to make some small chit-chat with Nancy in between customers. Elizabeth was a hard and efficient worker, and she hoped that her effort tonight was appreciated. It would have been so much easier to blow off the book fair, especially in light of her upcoming trip.
CHAPTER THREE: October 15, 2010
Elizabeth could just tell it was going to be one of those days. You know the kind, where anything that can go wrong will. She knew, before her feet even hit the ground in the morning that she would be yelling at the kids, would burst into tears, would wear quitter socks, and would have a bad hair day. She could just feel it in her bones. It seemed like she had this kind of day at least five days out of seven lately. It was her new norm. Her first indication of her type of day was that Teddy was yelling nonsense noises at the cat in a high-pitched squealing voice. It was 6:02 a.m. The high-pitched squeal had not only woken her, but now had woken Sydney, who was screaming at her brother to stop. Her alarm blared on to a burst of static. She sighed, tuned the radio to a station (when will the kids listen to her and stop playing with her radio?), and turned it off. She took a slight ounce of pleasure with the turning off of the whole alarm, not just silencing the radio. It was a very small act on Friday mornings that signified the weekend was near, and some rest would be coming. She knew if she could make it through the next few hours, that she would get some rest, and hopefully sort out her life. She knew that something had to change; she could not keep going as she was.
The kids bounded into the room and onto the bed. She turned the morning news on, trying to doze for a few minutes more. She had been up a few times with Sydney during the night, and of course, was awake from 3 to 4 a.m. with her mind racing, as per usual. She could not remember the last time she had slept uninterrupted for more than five to six hours, nor could she remember a day without anxiety and burning in her chest. It was getting worse and worse. Finally, at 6:40 a.m., Elizabeth got up and made her way to the bathroom to shower. The kids were dispatched to their own rooms to begin getting ready. Elizabeth doubted that they would complete the task, but it at least kept them from horsing around while she was in the shower. Absentmindedly, Elizabeth let the hot water beat down on her back as she balanced on one leg. If nothing else, Elizabeth was a creature of habit and predictable, and on Friday mornings, she shaved her legs. Not that it really mattered. It was not like she would be seeing Peter this weekend. Even if he were around, he never bothered to caress or even notice her legs anymore. Elizabeth pushed that line of thought down deep and tried to think about other things. She had had enough of those thoughts at 3 a.m.
Friday mornings were the hardest morning to get through. She was so burnt out by the end of the week. This one, even more so. The last ten days were eating away at her, just as her constantly churning stomach acid seemed to be tearing a hole in her chest. She emerged from the bathroom, yelled down the hall to the kids to stop wrestling, and stared at the large pile of unfolded laundry that occupied the floor by the foot of her bed. Since Peter had been away, she had really let the laundry go. He would not tolerate this kind of mess. She sighed and looked at the clock. It was going to be tight to get the kids to school on time at this rate. Elizabeth started to rummage through the laundry, looking for underwear. She decided she
didn't have the time and quickly turned to her dresser. Elizabeth often justified a pile of laundry by saying that she was being more efficient by skipping the folding and putting away step. Sometimes (most days), it really did just make her life more chaotic. Today, in her hurry, she pulled the first pair of underwear from her drawer, barely noticing that they were black low-cut bikinis that she normally saved for a special occasion. All of her every day, comfortable (meaning granny panties) underwear must have been in the laundry pile. Shit. She grabbed a black bra with lace trim and a pair of jeans that were lying on the top of the pile of clean clothes. She loved that Fridays meant she could wear jeans to work. She went to the closet, grabbed the first camisole she could find and layered on top of it her comfortable gray long sleeve t-shirt. It was faded and shapeless, and hung off her newly thinned frame. Elizabeth didn't notice that the shirt was unflattering. Her jeans hung off her as well. Even fully dressed, she did not look put together. She looked slovenly and worn out, like her clothing. She could not manage to find matching black socks, so she decided to wear her Nubuck clogs without socks, despite the weather report of an incoming cold front. At least her socks wouldn't be quitters.
Elizabeth checked on the kids. Sydney was dressed and just brushing her teeth. Teddy was in his room, putting together Legos, with his pajamas strewn about the room, and he was in his underwear only. Elizabeth took a deep breath, tried not to yell, and reminded him, "Go to the bathroom, get dressed and brush your teeth." It was a morning ritual, and no matter what, Teddy needed cueing to stay focused. Elizabeth returned to her room, finished her hair and put on her make-up. She looked around her room. It was a cluttered mess, and she knew she really needed to clean it. No, not just clean it, but clean out. If her suspicions that her marriage could not continue on this way ever came to fruition, she was going to have to start packing soon. She clutched her chest as a wave of heartburn came upon her. She was adopting the Scarlet O'Hara attitude and not thinking about that right now. Those thoughts could wait till 3 a.m. She again shut her mind down to the unpleasant thoughts and rushed downstairs to get breakfast for the kids and coffee for herself. She knew the coffee would not help her stomach, but she really needed the caffeine to get going for the day.
Peter had given her a Keurig two years ago for Christmas. That's what she told envious co-workers and impressed family. Actually, Elizabeth had purchased the Keurig, wrapped it for Peter and he put it under the tree. He had filled out the gift tag all by himself though. It was one of the best presents he had ever given her. Short of an automatic IV coffee drip, it was the fastest way to get a cup in the morning. Teddy, when motivated (or bribed), could even make her cup and bring it to her. This past year, Peter had flown in on Christmas Eve. The end of the year was always a busy time for him, and last year had been even worse than normal. He had said for many years that December was just so hectic that he did not have time to think about Christmas gifts. As a result, Elizabeth often bought her own gifts. Last year, however, she did not, and as a result, did not have any gifts to open Christmas morning. Peter did not notice. No one seemed to. But still, the Keurig had been a great gift, and Elizabeth was thankful every day for it.
Now Elizabeth got through serving breakfast on cruise control and got the kids loaded up into her beat-up old mini-van. She tried to focus on the immediate task at hand, which was driving. She had to get through her day at school. Although she had packed up Teddy and Sydney's overnight bags, in the chaos of the morning, she ran out of the house without them. That meant she would have to run home to pick them up, then bring them to her parents' house before getting on the road to Susan's. It would delay Elizabeth's travels, and it would mean she would most likely have to navigate the trickiest part of the drive through the mountains in the dark.
As Elizabeth had predicted, her day was terrible. The kids in her classroom were off the wall and out of control. One of her autistic students had several meltdowns and Elizabeth finally had to call his mother to come pick him up. She hated to do that to both the student and the parent, but today there was just no consoling this young boy. As a result, they had to have a brief team meeting at the end of the day, which put Elizabeth even further behind schedule. It was nearly three o'clock before she was pulling into her own driveway to load up her clothes as well as the bags for the kids. It felt as if she caught every red light driving across town to her mother's. Her luck shifted slightly, as her mother was not home when she dropped off the bags for Teddy and Sydney. She was able to place them in the foyer with a quick little note to tell the kids she loved them, and finally make her get away.
As she finally started driving out of town, Elizabeth turned the heat on in the van. The temperature was dropping precipitously as a cold and stormy front moved in. Elizabeth wasn't sure if she packed anything warm enough for the weather. She flipped through the radio stations trying to find a weather report, but found nothing but commercials. The salesman shouting about his large car deals grated on her nerves, and she snapped the radio off in frustration. She supposed that Susan would be kind enough to let her borrow a sweater if she needed it. Elizabeth kicked herself for not at least packing the coat warmer than her windbreaker. It was not unheard of to get a little snow in mid-October, especially up in the higher elevations where Elizabeth was headed.
The silence in the car, although rare, turned out to be Elizabeth's nemesis. She put the radio back on trying to drown out her own thoughts. Elizabeth continually changed the radio station, desperately looking for a song that didn't annoy her, grate on her nerves, or make her feel more despondent. Finally, with a huff, she turned the radio off and began to let her mind wander again as she headed east up into the mountains.
She couldn't help but think about her marriage. She wondered how it had all gone so wrong. Peter had been gone for ten days, and she had only spoken to him three times. And all of the conversations were about the kids. Elizabeth was only twenty-five when they married. Peter had been thirty. They had a quick courtship, and some thought they rushed into marriage. Her mother pushed her to take this step, reminding Elizabeth how she would need someone to take care of her, implying that she was not capable of taking care of herself. It was only in the last few years that Agnes had apparently recanted her statements, telling Elizabeth that she rushed into marriage. But at the time, Elizabeth had never been so certain of anything in her life. Peter had been working on his PhD while Elizabeth finished up her master's degree. They met in the school library, sharing an amused glance over a librarian who had lost her marbles. The amusement turned into a cup of coffee, which turned into a lunch date, and eventually into a subsequent dinner date. Elizabeth had never dated anyone for longer than three months. No one had ever stuck around, or rather stuck with Elizabeth longer than that. How could she help but be enamored with someone who stayed with her?
But nine years later, she questioned her decision. If they had dated for longer, or had had a longer engagement, Elizabeth wondered if she still would've gone forth with the marriage. In so many ways, on paper at least, Elizabeth and Peter were very compatible. But in so many crucial ways, they were not. These crucial ways were more subtle and took longer to emerge in the relationship. They did not become glaringly obvious until after Teddy was born. Elizabeth was needy, she always had been. Peter was fiercely independent and needed quiet time alone. Elizabeth was extroverted and fed off the energy of others. Peter was introverted and being in public drained him. Elizabeth could portray confidence, but inside was insecure. She needed constant reassurance that she looked all right, that she was smart enough, that she was a good person. Deep down she knew she was none of those things. Peter, who appeared reserved and insecure, could not care less about what others thought of him. Looks meant relatively nothing to him, and he thought it was foolish to need outside affirmation.
This led to many fights and many lonely nights. Elizabeth turned inward and stopped asking for affirmation. Even when dressed up in her finest, Peter never commented on how she looked
. She knew it must be because he did not find her attractive. She could walk around the room naked, and he would not initiate having sex. Meanwhile the other mothers at school told her how their husbands propositioned them two to three times per day. Every day. Sometimes she wondered if Peter was having his needs fulfilled elsewhere, but decided that that was ridiculous. She didn't know how he met that outlet in his life, but she knew that she couldn't fulfill his needs any more than he could fill hers. On those few occasions that they did make love, it was awkward and somewhat tedious. From the books Elizabeth read, if they were really in love, it should be a lot better.
They lived side-by-side, but were not together. Elizabeth tried her best to mold herself to fit Peter's needs. She tried her hardest not to yell at the children, because it drove Peter mad. He claimed his parents never yelled, which Elizabeth found hard to believe. Peter himself was quick to yell at the children and never recognized how often he did so. But God forbid Elizabeth raise her voice. When she did, Peter never focused on what the children were doing to necessitate her raising her voice. He only focused on how awful she was to constantly be yelling at the children. On the other hand, Elizabeth was the only one who enforced rules and standards in the house. Her children needed routine, and Peter never quite got on board with an established bedtime. That, in and of itself, led to many fights between Elizabeth and Peter.
The marriage seemed to work out well for Peter, but not so much for Elizabeth. Peter got up every morning, showered and went to work. Every so often, he would pop a frozen waffle in the toaster, or pour a cup of juice for one of the kids at breakfast. Sometimes he would put the food away from the dinner Elizabeth cooked at night. Sometimes not. He would stack the dishes up next to the sink, rather than in it, which drove Elizabeth mad. About once a month he would load the dishwasher, although he seemed incapable of actually running it. As his business travel was increasing, Elizabeth was left alone more and more. When he was home, Peter played the doting father role perfectly. He attended school and sporting events. He hung out with the children in the evening. He was a fun daddy. Things were generally amicable between Peter and Elizabeth with the kids there, as long as she was not yelling.
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