I want to say “So what?” but I can see that Asami is really whipped up about this. I take a long sip of chai in the hopes of finding some answers for her.
“So what’s your endgame here, Asami? What exactly are you trying to do?”
“I’m trying to prove that these people are made up.”
“By who? And for what reason?” I can’t keep the irritation out of my voice.
“Well, that’s what we need to find out.” Asami sits back for the first time during our conversation and crosses her arms.
I’m still not convinced there is anything to give a royal rip about, but I take a few breaths to absorb her information. Okay, we have a kid in class that no one has ever seen; a mother who only answers emails with an out-of-office autoreply, but manages to contribute to class parties; and there is a wrong address in the school records. If she is made up, someone has taken the time to plan this ruse admirably.
“Have you talked to Miss Ward? Asked her about it?”
“Of course I have.” Asami seems insulted. “She brushed me off by saying she couldn’t talk about another student.”
I remember having a similar experience when I casually asked Miss Ward about Nadine at the beginning of the year. At the time, I wasn’t fishing; I was just making conversation. I look at my watch. We have about ten minutes.
“Okay, let’s say Nadine and Sasha are made up. So what? It doesn’t affect the class dynamic at all. Why do you care?”
“It just bothers me. It’s like a loose end that is just … dangling there.” Asami waves her hand in front of my face. “Plus I can’t stop feeling like someone is having a good laugh at our expense, and I do not like to be laughed at.”
If you don’t like to be laughed at, you should seriously rethink your hat choices, I think.
“Okay, so what would you like me to do?”
“I want you to help me get to the bottom of this. See if we can force this person to show herself.”
“Right. And how am I supposed to do that?”
“I was hoping you’d have an idea. You’ve got that slick, cagey mind.”
I chew my lip and consider the backhanded compliment my co–class parent just launched at me. God, she is hard to take seriously with that hat on. I start to put my coat on, and she does the same.
“Let me think about it,” I say as we walk to the door. “My slick, cagey mind needs time to brew.”
We run to our respective cars in a lame attempt to hold on to the warmth from Starbucks, and drive the quarter mile to school. We park and get out and Asami joins me as I walk to where we wait for the kids. As we approach, I can imagine Peetsa and Ravi checking me out with my new bestie, but to my surprise I find them locked in conversation with none other than Shirleen Cobb.
“Hey, girls, what’s up?” I say by way of inserting myself into the exchange.
“Jennifer, I’m glad you’re here. Does Graydon say inappropriate things to Max?” Shirleen asks.
“Inappropriate?” I look to Ravi and Peetsa for any clue as to what we have walked into.
“Yes, inappropriate. Surely you, of all people, know what that means.”
And I thought I was the snarky one.
“Well, to be honest, he did tell Max not to invite girls to his birthday party because they’re gross.”
Judging by the openmouthed stares I’m receiving, this is the wrong answer. When will I ever learn that the only thing you say to other parents is how wonderful their child is? Even if they ask you for the truth, they really don’t want it.
“I don’t see anything inappropriate about that. In fact, it is extremely age appropriate.”
“And that’s why I never said anything to you about it.” I look around the circle. “Why are we talking about this?”
I feel like Peetsa is about to say something, but Shirleen jumps in.
“As a matter of fact, Zach told my son that his mother said that Graydon says too many inappropriate things and he shouldn’t listen to him.”
“Which Zach?” Asami and I say at the same time.
“That’s what I’m trying to find out.” She turns to Peetsa and Ravi. “But I don’t seem to be getting anywhere.”
“It must have been Zach E., Shirleen,” Peetsa says, in her most appeasing voice. I’m impressed by her ability to throw Trudy Elder under the bus without even blinking. “I certainly hear all about Graydon from my Zach, but I would never say anything like that to him.”
Ravi nods solemnly, but doesn’t say anything.
“Well, I guess I should go have a word with Trudy.” Shirleen turns to leave our weird little circle of friends, but then pauses for a final comment.
“I sure hope you girls will always come to me if there’s a problem with Graydon.”
With that, she stalks away.
“Because clearly you are open to the criticism,” I say when I know she’s out of earshot.
My besties laugh. So does Asami.
Just then the bell rings and our cuties come trudging out looking the way most kids do by this time of winter—exhausted and disheveled. I spot Max’s leopard-print jacket in the crowd and wave to him. He has accessorized today with a headband that has brown felt antlers on top. He is walking arm in arm with Zach T., and they both look upset.
“Hey, sweetie.” I give him a quick hug. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” His voice tells me he’s anything but.
I look to Peetsa to see if she has any idea what they’re so glum about. She shrugs and takes Zach’s bag from him.
“See you guys tomorrow,” she says.
“Don’t forget to ask your mom!” Zach yells to Max as he walks away, holding his mother’s hand.
“Ask me what?” I look down at him.
“You know it’s five days till my birthday, right?”
“Five days till your birthday party,” I correct him as we walk to the car, “a week till your birthday.”
“Did you get the cake yet?” he asks, handing me his backpack.
“Well, I ordered it. We won’t pick it up until Saturday.”
As I buckle him into his booster seat, he lets out a very big sigh for a little boy. I buckle myself in and turn on the car. I check my phone before I pull out and see I have a text from Don.
You’re having a party without me?
I guess word is out about Max’s shindig.
We are. Six-year-old boys only. Girls are gross.
What about 48-year-old boys?
They’re gross, too.
LOL
I shake my head and put my phone in my purse.
“How was school today?” I ask over my shoulder.
“Good.”
“What did you do?”
“Nothing.”
“Who did you play with?”
“I don’t know.” He suddenly looks at me as though he has just realized I’m there. “Hey, Mom, can we invite Jack to my party?”
“Jack?” I frown. “Who is Jack?”
“You know, Garth’s friend from when we went to Wichita that day.”
“Why would you want to invite Jack, sweetie? We barely know him.”
“Mom, please can you ask him? Please?”
“Well, I’ll need to know why first.”
Max frowns. “Graydon doesn’t believe we know a guy with one arm. He called me and Zach B. liars.”
“He did?” I start planning my phone call to concerned parent Shirleen Cobb.
Max nods. I look in the rearview mirror and see him squeeze his eyes shut tight. I can tell he’s upset.
“Did that make you sad?”
He nods and looks out the window.
“Did you cry, buddy?”
He lets out a long dramatic sigh. “I did for a minute. And then I manned up.”
I suppress a smile, knowing that last part is courtesy of his dad.
“So can we ask him, Mom? I want to show Graydon I’m not lying.”
This is what I find hard about parenting. T
he petty, small, vindictive part of me wants to say, “Hell, yes, we’ll get him there and teach Graydon Cobb a lesson or two about calling people liars.” But the rational adult side of me knows my son needs to learn to rise above this crap. Plus it sounds like he was doing some pretty serious bragging about meeting a man with a handicap. I’m not too happy about that.
* * *
I tell Garth the whole story over jumping jacks on Thursday morning.
“Honest to God, just when I think I’ve heard it all from that kid,” I puff.
Garth chuckles. “You know, Jack is such a nice guy, I’m sure if I asked him he would stop by. Shut this kid Graydon up.”
I stop jumping and try to catch my breath.
“Please don’t. But I’d love it if you would stop by.”
“Really?” He seems surprised.
“Of course. You’re practically family now. Plus, I’m dying to see you eat a piece of cake.”
Garth laughs.
“I will if it’s chocolate. I can’t stay away from that.”
“I noticed.” I smirk. “Come with Nina. It’ll be fun.”
“Okay, thanks for the invite. I’ll talk to her. Now let’s work your legs a little more.”
We get back to business and soon I’m a sweaty mess. Garth tells me that he’s going to move our workouts outside as soon as the snow melts. I’m a little nervous to leave the comforts of Ron’s Gym and Tan, but I think it will be nice to change the scenery up a bit.
17
Saturday morning, I jump out of bed like the woman on a mission that I am—for today, anyway. Max’s birthday party starts at eleven, and I have a ton to do. I glance at the rumpled sheets on the other side of the bed and see that Ron is already up and at ’em as well. I’m impressed. I grab the To Do list I scribbled in the middle of the night when I couldn’t sleep. Most of it is illegible but I can get the gist of it.
—Remind my parents where the party is, again
—Put gift bags in the car
—Pick up cake
—Pick up balloons
—Decorate party room
Normally I would farm some of this out to Vivs and Laura, but they are barely going to make it to the party. They are driving up from school with Raj and Travis and not leaving until ten this morning, because apparently Travis “needs his sleep.” Yes, Travis is still in the picture. I’m thinking this might be love for my little girl. Never mind that the great Steve Perry of Journey says, “Lovin’ a music man ain’t always what it’s supposed to be,” Laura is smitten and she’s going to roll the dice with Travis. God, I envy her. She has no idea what it’s like to get your heart broken.
I quickly shower, don the mom uniform, and trot down to the kitchen for a much-needed cup of joe. No sign of Ron, but I find a note taped to the Keurig telling me he has gone running. I pop a pod into the machine and grab the milk. It’s ridiculous how much I need this first cup.
As I’m savoring my maiden sip of the day, Max comes into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes. He walks over for a hug.
“Good morning, sweetie pie.” I give him a big squeeze. “Happy birthday-party day.”
His eyes spring open so quickly it’s comical. “It’s my party today?” He starts to jump up and down, doing his happy dance, which looks a little like the way Martin Short dances as Ed Grimley. “Can we go now?”
I can’t help but laugh as it is only 8:30 in the morning.
“Well, we’ve got a few things to do before we go. First, breakfast. You want to have a lot of energy for the gym. How about an egg in the hole?”
“Okay.” He sounds a bit disappointed. I know he’s dying to get the party started. Just then Ron comes in the back door, looking like the Unabomber with sunglasses and his hood up.
“Man, is it chilly out there!” He stomps around for a bit, then shrugs his running jacket off.
“Dad, are you ready for the party?” Max asks.
“Absolutely, buddy. Just give me ten seconds.”
“Coffee?” I hold up my mug.
“Please.” He kisses me, then takes a huge chug from his water bottle.
I throw a pod in for him, then start on Max’s breakfast.
“I have a few errands to run before the party. Can you get Max ready and bring him to Emerald City around ten forty-five?”
“No problem. Want me to bring anything?”
“I think I’ve got it all. Just make sure the guest of honor is there.”
“Who’s the guest of honor?” Max asks. He has an orange juice mustache.
“You, silly.” I place the egg in a hole in front of him and he digs in with gusto.
The kitchen-counter office beckons me, so I have a seat and fire up the iMac to check my emails and send one to Asami.
* * *
To: JDixon
From: KHoward
Date: 03/10
Subject: Max’s party
Hello, darling,
Can you remind me where Max’s party is again? I keep forgetting the name of it. Also send me the address so I can put it in the Garmin.
Love,
Your Mother
To: JDixon
From: SCobb
Date 3/10
Subject: Today
Jennifer,
I’m just writing to make sure this party will be a safe environment for Graydon. Have they done a sweep for nuts and dust? Or should I send him with his mask?
Shirleen
* * *
I roll my eyes. I’d feel sorrier for that child if he wasn’t so much like his mother. I send my mom the address, tell Shirleen that a mask is always a good idea (that’ll teach Graydon to call my son a liar), and then send Asami the news she has been waiting for.
* * *
To: AChang
From: JDixon
Date: 3/10
Subject: Operation Who Is She?
Hi, Asami,
I think I’ve figured out a way to smoke out Sasha. Let’s meet at Starbucks before pickup on Monday.
Jen
* * *
I close the laptop and look at my watch. Yeesh! Nine fifteen already. I’d better get my ass in gear. I run up the stairs two at a time (’cause that’s how I roll these days) and holler to Ron, who’s in the shower.
“I’m heading out. Remember, get Max dressed and over to Emerald City by ten forty-five.”
“You got it!” he yells back. I can smell his musky shampoo from the hallway.
I charge back down the stairs and grab my keys from the hook by the kitchen door.
“I’m on my way, buddy. Dad’s going to bring you to the party.”
“Where are you going?” Max looks up from Ron’s iPad.
“I’m going to set up for the most awesome ninja party ever.” I give him a kiss on the head. “See you in a while.”
“Ninja!”
* * *
I have to give myself snaps. Max’s party is a bona fide hit. Seven boys from his class and three from his Cub Scout Troop all arrive in various forms of ninja dress and start running around Emerald City like it’s on fire. I told everyone it’s a drop-off party, but there are always mothers who want to stay. Today it seems everyone wants to hang out, so I’m treated to time with Peetsa, Ravi, Hunter’s two moms, Shirleen, Trudy Elder, Jackie Westman, and, to my delight, Jean-Luc Baton, whom I have not seen since curriculum night. Still gorgeous, I’m happy to report. I have to say that as much as I love my husband and happen to think he’s the bee’s knees, nothing can put a spring in your step quite like a good-looking man in your midst. Jean-Luc is the only dad here besides Ron, so they’re huddled in a corner, talking about work no doubt. The moms are sitting sipping coffee and looking happy to be doing nothing for a minute.
The party room looks great, thanks to my decorations and the ministrations of Brandon and Kayla, my Emerald City ambassadors. They were able to make magic with my Party City purchases and the black, green, and gold balloons I picked up this morning.
A flurry at the do
or catches my eye: my girls have arrived with their beaux. Does anyone say “beau” anymore? I picked it up when I was ten and reading Anne of Green Gables and it stuck with me.
“Mom, sorry we’re late. Seventy was a parking lot getting into the city.” Laura gives me a quick hug.
“That’s okay, baby. You haven’t missed much.” I look past her and wave to Vivs and Raj. “Where’s Travis?”
“Parking the car. Where should I put these?” She holds up a couple of presents wrapped in ninja paper.
“Over in the corner. Do me a favor and circulate with your sister—introduce yourselves to people. I have to go talk to my guy about the food.”
As if on cue, Brandon walks in.
“I think the boys are getting hungry. Should I bring the food out in about ten minutes?”
“Perfect. Thanks.”
“Would you like something besides pizza for them?” He nods toward the mothers.
Since I hadn’t been expecting eight moms, I hadn’t made any arrangements for them.
“Um … how about a couple of large Caesar salads with chicken?”
Brandon nods and heads off to the kitchen.
I walk toward Vivs and Raj and give them both a welcome hug.
“Thanks for driving in for this, you guys.”
“Like I’d miss Maxi’s birthday party!” Vivs snorts.
“Are grown-ups allowed to play out there, too?” Raj wonders.
“Why? You want to go play, little boy?” Vivs teases him.
He blushes. “Well, it looks like fun.”
“I think you can, Raj, just take your shoes off and watch out for rug rats.” I smile.
“Oh, rats don’t bother me. When I was a kid, I spent every summer in India.” He heads off, yelling for Travis to join him.
Vivs and I look at each other and burst out laughing. The moment is cut short when Max comes running into the party room. I see Ron has convinced him to wear plain old jeans and a T-shirt to his party. I’m thinking that might be why he storms over to me crying angry tears.
“I hate this party!” he yells. “Why did we have to have it here?”
“What on earth are you talking about?” I get down on one knee and hold his arms.
Class Mom Page 18
