For All She Knows

by Beck, Jamie

  When we were first married, Sam and I had lived in Baltimore, where he’d worked crazy hours at a national accounting firm while I’d put my fine arts degree to use teaching piano at a music studio near our condominium. A perfect job for me, since stage fright made concert performances impossible. I didn’t regret that, though, because of my profound satisfaction in sharing the gift of music with children. Carter was not quite three, and we’d been discussing getting pregnant again when Sam received a junior-partnership offer from a regional firm based near this community. He loved being a father, so he jumped on the opportunity to achieve a better work-life balance.

  We’d visited several nearby towns before falling for Potomac Point’s town center, with its herringbone brick sidewalks and lampposts with hanging flower baskets. In addition to its sandy public beach, where kids would occasionally dig for fossilized sharks’ teeth, it also boasted an array of restaurants and plenty of tourist shops chock-full of crab-themed snow globes, key chains, and holiday ornaments. The boardwalk—which stretched north from the East Beach Café, its railing flower boxes overflowing with bright begonias—provided a terrific place to ride bikes in the sunshine and inhale the salty sea air, or to sit on its benches and enjoy ice cream as if on a perpetual vacation.

  The quaint town seemed safer and more family oriented than our Baltimore neighborhood, and its high school was ranked sixth out of two hundred twenty-six in the state at the time, cinching our decision. We’d bought a lovely yellow colonial on a flat half-acre lot and slid into this community as if we’d grown up here. But we weren’t lifers, which made rocking the boat now feel a bit treacherous.

  Like a concert performance, taking the mic tonight would require a colossal act of courage. Ironically, Mimi’s can-do spirit had inspired me to stand up for my beliefs now. Throughout the years, she’d quit a job and started her own salon (without a college degree or any business training), and within days of her ex, Dirk, filing for divorce, she’d begun to pick up the pieces. The other motivation? Potomac High’s statewide ranking had slipped from sixth to twenty-sixth since we’d moved to town. That affected the competitiveness of Carter’s college applications compared with kids from Bethesda and Rockville, hurting his chances of acceptance in MIT’s prestigious chemical engineering program. And if the downward trend continued—which seemed likely if millions got directed to sports facilities—where would that leave Kim?

  After loading the groceries into my trunk, I opened the town moms’ Facebook group—which normally featured complaints about school policies or requests for recommendations for glass installers, calculus tutors, and the like—to find the post Mimi had just mentioned.

  ATTENTION Tigers’ fans and families. Y’all better show up at town hall tonight to “roar” in support of the proposed budget so the small but whiny group of disgruntled parents doesn’t win. It’s past time that our teams get a new practice field, scoreboard, and better equipment, so let’s show the board that we Tigers’ families approve of their plans!

  Amid the supportive comments, I spied my friend and fellow protester Carrie Castle’s response about ensuring a fair process. Some rabid budget supporters had already pummeled her with snide or bullying remarks. Those folks’ kids must be the ones Carter had mentioned who’d been making trouble for him and others at school ever since an ugly argument about this budget broke out during the last PTC meeting.

  Sighing, I tucked my phone into my purse and drove home. With only ten minutes remaining until my first piano lesson of the day began, I rushed to season the roasting chicken, put it in the oven, and clean myself up.

  My phone rang. Mom again. Having already put her off once, I answered. “Hi, Mom. Everything okay?”

  I peeked through the blinds to see if Keri Bertram was pulling up to the curb to drop off her daughter, Jasmine, a high school freshman who’d never been late for any lesson in three years. A dream student, although she preferred pop music to classical. We were currently working on Billy Joel’s “New York State of Mind.”

  “Yes, honey. I’m fine, but I’m worried about you.”

  “Me?” I let the slats fall.

  “Yes, you. Isn’t tonight the big town meeting?”

  “It is.”

  “And you’re really going to speak?” The surprise in her tone irked me.

  “That’s the plan.” I waited: one, two, three . . .

  “Grace, nothing good comes from stirring the pot.”

  Her standard line. She’d preached some version of this throughout my life: “Don’t be like Margot, Gracie. There’s nothing to gain from making waves. Discretion is the better part of valor.”

  “I’m hardly starting a war.”

  In my mind, her bony shoulders rose briefly before falling while she blew dangling gray hairs from her eyes. “Maybe not, but life is easier when you accept what is and make the best of it.”

  Easier for whom, exactly?

  From my perspective, that attitude had let Daddy run roughshod over us all and still come home to a clean house and a good meal. Maybe if she hadn’t been so accepting—if she’d had the courage to take us to a domestic abuse shelter like the one I sewed dresses and drapes for—Margot might still be alive. This kind of thinking is why her attempts to make up for all the years she’d prioritized enabling and justifying my father’s alcoholism and violent tendencies over protecting Margot and me fell flat.

  Sometimes the urge to criticize her choices came on so strong I worried it’d leap right out of my mouth. But berating her for the past served no purpose now.

  “Except that this budget isn’t approved yet, so I don’t have to accept it.”

  “Isn’t it better to focus on keeping your family happy than to get political? Less chance of regrets.”

  Perhaps she meant to spare me the regrets she carried on her back like an invisible cross, so I didn’t point out that she’d never managed to build a happy family.

  “Mom, you’re being overanxious. It’s a hearing.”

  She tsk-tsked. “You know how people get when they fight about money or kids, and this deals with both.”

  “Well, I appreciate your concern, but it’s my choice.” I knew she was shaking her head despite her silence. A car engine idled out front. “Listen, my student just arrived, so I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

  “Think about what I said, honey.” The parting shot. I pictured a grimace deepening her wrinkles. “Bye, dear.”

  “Goodbye, Mom.” I hung up, turning away from my past, and then answered the door.

  In an unusual move, Keri had walked Jasmine up to the house.

  “Jasmine, go ahead and warm up for a minute. I’ll be right there.” I gestured toward the living room, where we kept my grandmother’s Steinway. My grandmother had played for her church but left me the magnificent upright piano when she died fifteen years ago. Now my family enjoyed singing around it on holidays, and as always, playing remained my way of relieving stress and releasing my emotions without fear of reprisal.

  When Jasmine left us, I turned to Keri. “Is there a problem with Jasmine’s lessons?”

  “Oh, no. I love listening to her practice. She’s becoming so good.” Keri’s proud smile wrought one from me as well.

  “She’s a terrific student.”

  “Thank God she inherited my husband’s discipline.” Keri adjusted her purse strap. “I just wanted to wish you luck. Sorry I can’t make the hearing, but Paul’s working late and Jasmine is babysitting for the Singhs later, so I’ve got no one to watch my other two.”

  “No need to explain yourself, Keri. We’ll have enough protesters to make our points.”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. That Mimi and the booster club are all whipped up.”

  I braced, fighting a scowl. Other women often referred to Mimi as that Mimi, especially when they didn’t personally know her. Some of their contempt probably arose because many husbands flirted with her. Others might resent that she didn’t change herself to make them more comfort
able. But most of all, I think Mimi—like my mom years ago—got condemned for her former husband’s bad behavior. Dirk had been something of a boor and a notorious cheater.

  Having lived through my mom’s defenses and rationalizations, I guessed that, deep down, Mimi had put up with it because she’d been hoping that he’d change back to the man she’d fallen in love with.

  In any case, I’d grown tired of how some women justified harshly judging other women. When did it become the rule that we all had to conform to one standard and agree about every little thing? As long as a person wasn’t out to hurt others, live and let live. Mimi never set out to hurt a soul.

  With a firm but polite tone, I said, “Mimi’s only supporting her kid like the rest of us are. Fingers crossed that the board members are persuaded by our arguments.”

  “You’re right.” Keri nodded, then checked her phone. “I’ll be back in forty-five minutes to get Jasmine.”

  “Perfect.” I waved goodbye, then put tonight’s meeting out of my mind.

  My kids came home from school shortly after Jasmine’s lesson began. Usually they did their homework in the kitchen and then retreated to their rooms until my last lesson left for the evening. When I finally went to take the chicken from the oven, Carter was closing his textbooks. Although his sophomore workload had increased over last year’s, the worry lines on his forehead surprised me.

  “What’s the matter, honey?” A glance at the clock told me only one hour remained in which to help him, serve dinner, do the dishes, and freshen up before racing to town hall for the seven o’clock hearing.

  His shoulders fell. “Mom, please don’t make a scene tonight.”

  “When have I ever made a scene about anything?” If Margot were here, she’d be laughing hysterically. I shoved my hands into the Christmas-themed oven mitts he’d decorated with fabric markers as a sixth grader.

  He stuffed his school supplies into his backpack and heaved it over his slim shoulders. Poor kid inherited my lanky build. “I told you, kids at school are fired up. The football team will go off if they lose their field money.”

  I stiffened, resigned to the fact that high school remained a hierarchy where jocks ruled. Carter had Sam’s bright blue eyes and ebony hair, nice sense of humor, gentle heart, and sharp mind, but because he wasn’t athletic and extroverted, he remained on the fringes of school society. I’d watched helplessly as he sat alone many Saturday nights, reading dystopian novels or watching TV with Sam and me. But in truth, Mimi didn’t have it easier, despite her son’s popularity. If anything, maybe she had it harder because popularity brought its own set of risks—the parties and sex and peer pressure.

  Perhaps there wasn’t any parenting nirvana or perfect teen experience.

  “Are they still giving you trouble?” My mitted hands rested on my hips.

  “Just . . . Why are you making this a big deal?” He groaned.

  When I was young, my sister was the only one to stand up to my father. Watching their vicious arguments convinced me to keep my head down to avoid getting caught in the cross fire. For a long time I thought myself smarter than my sister, although I loved her for trying to protect us. But by the time I turned twenty-one, the fallout from all she’d done had turned her into what she’d once hated. In our teens, I’d felt betrayed by her drinking and drug experimentation. As time went on, I ached for her pain and suffered with guilt for never once standing up to Dad with her.

  On one anniversary of her death, I’d shared my feelings with Mimi, who suggested practicing taking a firm stand with something small. In her casual way, she’d also hinted that asserting myself might teach my kids to handle conflict better, sparing them my regrets. Although I didn’t agree with all Mimi’s parenting choices, some of her instincts were dead-on. I couldn’t give in to teen bullies tonight if I intended to help my kids develop the backbone they’d need to stand up for themselves in the future.

  “Because academics should be the school board’s top priority, not sports. The science labs haven’t been upgraded since before we moved here.” I opened the oven and crouched to retrieve the roast chicken, freshly irked by the way athletics garnered so much attention in high schools and colleges.

  “The labs are fine,” he said. “So are my grades.”

  “We’re very proud of you, honey.” His summa cum laude average boded well for him, but Potomac High needed to do better by all the taxpayers’ kids, not simply the ones who played sports. “But this isn’t about only you. Other kids and parents care. And your sister will be coming up behind you in a few years. By the way, call her to dinner, please.”

  “Whatever.” He took his backpack to the mudroom and called up the back stairs, “Kim, dinner!”

  If I’d wanted to hear yelling, I would’ve called her myself.

  Kim came skipping into the kitchen and then scowled at us both. “Dinner’s not ready.”

  That one was almost ten but going on twenty, with a personality like my sister’s. Brash. Confident. Taking no guff. It was as if she had rejected my DNA in the womb.

  “Help your brother set the table.” I mashed the lumps in the gravy and turned off the burner beneath the pot of rice.

  I heard Sam enter the house before I saw him. He came into the kitchen, loosening his tie and then unbuttoning the top button of his shirt. At forty-three, he retained a youthful charm and playful smile, with only fine wrinkles at the edges of his twinkling eyes.

  After giving Kim a kiss on top of her head, he swerved around the island to give me one on the cheek. “Smells delicious.”

  “Too bad we don’t have much time to enjoy it tonight.” I wanted to practice my speech once or twice more before the hearing.

  Standing before a packed town hall to argue against the proposed budget could draw boos or cutting remarks from ramped-up parents. That claustrophobic feeling I’d always gotten while trying to make myself invisible during my father’s public drunkenness could return as quickly as the memories of my sister’s long stare and my mother’s muttered apologies and prayers. I rubbed my chest to ease the tightness.

  Sam narrowed his gaze. “Relax, babe. Your speech is great. No one can squeeze more facts into sixty seconds than you.” His light chuckle loosened my shoulder and neck muscles. Sam’s faith always helped me relax. He was made for me, with his easy affection and attentiveness, his homebody ways, and even his love for music.

  When Carter slumped with a pout, Sam mouthed, “What’s his problem?”

  “Carter, lots of parents will be speaking out tonight, not just me.”

  “Like Mrs. Gillette.” Carter looked up at me. “Is this really worth fighting with your best friend?”

  “Grown-ups don’t make this stuff personal. In fact, she and I have plans to get together on Friday.” I handed Sam a carving knife, set a bowl of rice on the table, and strained the gravy, feigning more confidence than I felt. Yet if Mimi wasn’t backing down in deference to our friendship, why should I? “Is Rowan mad at her?”

  “No. She’s not trying to take anything away from anyone.” Carter rested his chin on his fist.

  “That’s not true,” Sam replied, supporting me as always. “The budget comes from tax revenue, which means all taxpayers get a say.”

  As Sam took a seat and filled his plate, my phone rang. He looked up. “Leave it.”

  But I’d already peeked. “It’s Carrie. Let me take this while you all start eating.”

  He nodded, so I answered. “Hi, Carrie.”

  “Grace, I’m here and the parking lot is full.”

  “Already?” It was only six fifteen. My stomach dipped to my toes.

  Carrie blew out a breath. Her daughter, Phoebe, was a gifted freshman. When the superintendent first published the upcoming year’s budget, Carrie had enlisted me to help her rally protesters. “That Mimi’s got the booster club out in full force. I bet we’re outnumbered by two to one.”

  Poor Mimi was damned by some no matter what she did. If she hadn’t gotten involved
, people would’ve criticized her for letting others stand up for her son’s interests.

  “Please don’t refer to Mimi that way. She’s got every right to her opinion. We knew it’d be an uphill battle. If we lose tonight, we’ll send letters to the County Economic Council.” Hayden Chen, one of my husband’s partners, sat on that council, which had the ultimate approval rights over the budget. If tonight went badly, perhaps Sam could make a personal appeal to him—from one parent to another. I wouldn’t broadcast that fact to anyone, of course. I might feel a little guilty about that if Mimi and her team weren’t pressing every advantage they had as well. “I’ll be there as soon as possible.”

  “Okay. See you soon.” Carrie hung up.

  By the time I sat down, Kim’s chicken and rice were floating in a pool of gravy, which she dipped her finger into for a lick.

  “Manners, honey.” I draped a napkin across my lap.

  She straightened and picked up a fork.

  “What did Carrie want?” Sam asked before taking another bite of chicken.

  “Apparently town hall’s already packed.”

  “Like church on Christmas—everyone’s coming out of the woodwork.” Sam smiled, but my stomach lurched.

  Carter swallowed a spoonful of rice before saying, “If you’re that nervous, don’t go.”

  “I’m fine.” I patted my forehead with my napkin and turned to Kim, forcing myself to think of something mundane. “I made brownies this morning. You can have one tonight, but only if you promise to listen to your brother.”

  “Okay.” She then threw Carter a mischievous smile, proving she had no intention of making his job easy.

  “And,” I added, “you have to eat all of your salad.”

  Kim heaved a sigh that could raise a hot-air balloon. “Fine.”

  Sam stood, rinsed his dish, and loaded it in the dishwasher, then clapped his hands and rubbed them together. “Ready to rumble?”