Class Mom

by Laurie Gelman

  “I want another party somewhere else.” He’s sobbing now, and has a bubble of snot coming out of his nose. I look up and notice the whole room has gone quiet. I so love an audience when I’m having a bad moment with my kid. I give Peetsa a pleading look, and she nods.

  “Does anyone need to use the bathroom?” She sounds like she’s asking a group of preschoolers. Most of the moms get up with her, but Trudy and Shirleen stay put. I turn back to Max.

  “Max, calm down and tell me what happened,” I say in the nicest voice I can, considering I’m dying inside. Vivs and Laura have moved to stand behind Max in an attempt to make this moment more private. Ron has joined me on the floor.

  “We … we … were at the mini r-r-ropes course.” He’s having trouble getting his words out. “And G-g-graydon wanted to do the grown-up r-r-ropes course…” He takes a deep breath as I rub his arms. “And they said no and Graydon said this is the worst party he has ever been to.” Max starts up a fresh round of sobs.

  “He what?” I can see Shirleen charging over to where I’m kneeling with my son. Max moves into the safety of my arms.

  “Shirleen, it’s okay. I’m handling it.” I’m hoping my look conveys how much I don’t want her to interfere. Apparently it doesn’t.

  “Where is Graydon now, Max?” He shrugs. She stomps out of the party room.

  “Is Graydon going to get in trouble?” Max asks, wiping his nose on his sleeve.

  “I think he might, buddy,” Ron says.

  “Good,” Max says firmly. “He says mean things.”

  “Why don’t you hang in here, sweetie? The pizza is coming out soon.”

  I hug him and get up off my knees to see that Nina and Garth have arrived, gifts for Max in hand.

  “Hey, you guys! I’m so glad you could come. Max, look, Aunt Nina and Garth are here.” I send him over to give them a hug, which gives me the opportunity to take a huge “serenity now” breath. Ron puts his arm around my shoulder and gives me a squeeze.

  “Best mom ever,” he whispers in my ear.

  Hardly, I think, but I take the compliment with a smile.

  Brandon and Kayla arrive with the pizza just as the boys are coming back from the play area and the mothers return from their fake visit to the bathroom. Last to arrive is Shirleen, followed by Graydon.

  “Jennifer, there has been a misunderstanding. Graydon didn’t say it was the worst party he’s ever been to.”

  “Yes, he did.” Max comes running back to me.

  “He’s lying,” says Graydon. “He lies a lot.”

  Whoa. Hold on there, bubble boy. You are in dangerous territory. I’m about to say something, but Max decides to come to his own defense.

  “I don’t lie,” he says. “Almost never,” he adds with conviction.

  “You lied about the one-armed man,” Graydon counters.

  At this point, the entire room’s focus is on these two little boys. Even Shirleen is hanging back.

  “I didn’t lie about him! He’s real. Zach B. saw him, too.”

  Zach B. looks up and nods. He seems pleased to have been brought into the drama.

  “Well, I don’t believe you.” Graydon folds his arms in front of his chest in an exact imitation of his mother. I almost burst out laughing.

  “Wait a minute.” Garth steps in. I want to wave him off, but stop myself.

  “Do you mean this one-armed guy?” He reaches into the gift bag he’s holding, pulls out a picture frame, and turns to the picture toward Graydon. From where I’m standing, I can see it’s a photo of Jack, from the day of the indoor mudder. He has his one arm around both boys, and they are all smiling.

  “Yes!” Max yells as if he has won the lottery … or a good game of Lego Indiana Jones. He runs to hug Garth and takes the picture. “See, Graydon? I told you I wasn’t lying.” He is beaming.

  “We told you.” Zach B. puts his arm around Max.

  Graydon walks closer to the boys for a better look at the picture. After studying it for about ten seconds, he hands it back to Max.

  “Cool. Mom, what can I eat here?”

  If I was hoping for an apology, I was going to be disappointed. That “cool” was all the ground Graydon was ever going to give. I look at Garth.

  “You are my hero,” I mouth to him. He nods and winks. Nina blows me a kiss.

  The kids have already moved on and are scarfing down pizza like it’s the first and last time they will ever have it. I’m sitting with the moms, enjoying chicken Caesar salad and a delicious cup of smugness. Shirleen sits down beside me.

  “Well, I’m sure glad the boys hashed that out. It’s good to get to the truth, I always say.”

  Clearly, she doesn’t notice the slice of humble pie in front of her. There are many ways I could respond, but I go with a nod and a smile.

  18

  As the famous anorexic Karen Carpenter once said, “Rainy days and Mondays always get me down.” Man alive, we have had a lot of precipitation these past few weeks. It’s either rain or sleet or snow or hail that has me scraping off or digging out the minivan every day. Oh, well. At least the mail is getting delivered … or so they say.

  On this particular freezing rainy Monday I’m meeting Asami (please, not the duck hat; please, not the duck hat) to unveil my master plan to get to the bottom of the Sasha and Nadine Lewicki mystery/Asami obsession. As I’m driving to Starbucks, my cell phone rings. I hit the Answer button on the steering wheel.

  “Jen’s Nail Salon; how can I help you?”

  “On a scale of one to ten, what is your mood right now?” It’s Ron.

  “Is ten the best or the worst?” I ask.

  “Whatever makes you happier.”

  “Well, then, I guess I’d say I’m about a five, and you can do the math.”

  “I just got offered tickets to watch the Roller Warriors play tonight.”

  “Okay … the roller whats?” I can hear Ron’s eyes rolling on the other end of the line.

  “Kansas City’s roller derby team.”

  “You like roller derby?” I’m wondering how he got through the vetting process without this little nugget of information coming out.

  “I’m trying to make a deal to supply all their skates for the next five seasons. The manager offered me tickets, so I think it would be good for me to go.”

  “Why are you even asking me? Of course it would be good for you to go.”

  “I kind of want to bring Max.”

  “In God’s name, why?”

  “I think he’ll really enjoy it. It’s a lot of fun to watch.”

  I turn into the Starbucks parking lot and find a spot.

  “I’ll have to take your word for it.” I smile to myself, thinking how many questions Max is going to have.

  “So, when you pick him up from school, can you drop him at the store? I’ll get him dinner and we’ll go from here.”

  “Sure, babe. I’ll see you in about an hour.”

  “Perfect, thanks.”

  I press the button on the steering wheel again to hang up and have a good laugh. Watch this be the sport Max falls in love with.

  Starbucks smells like roasted coffee and something else … a croissant being baked? Asami and her hat are already on the love seat, patiently waiting for me.

  I’ve had quite enough caffeine already today, so I opt for a calm tea and one of those yummy cake pops. I choose the one with nuts, reasoning that it is healthier.

  As I settle in across from Asami, I can tell she’s dying to know what I have come up with, so I don’t waste time with pleasantries.

  “So, remember when the FBI did that huge Mafia sting a bunch of years ago?”

  “No.”

  “Well, a bunch of Mafia guys had gone into hiding and the FBI couldn’t find them anywhere. So they sent out letters to the Mafiosos’ last known addresses, saying they had won some really big prize but they had to show up at a certain warehouse to claim it.” I’m pretty sure I’m fudging some of the facts.

 
“Did they go?”

  “Yes. A lot of them did and were arrested. Maybe if Sasha thinks she has won money or something, she will show up to get it.”

  Asami’s face is pinched in irritation.

  “What’s wrong?” I tear into my cake pop.

  “Well, it’s just so … simple. It’s such an obvious plan. I’m mad I didn’t think of it myself.”

  It isn’t that obvious, I think but do not say. “So, do you want to try it?”

  “Of course! What should we say she has won?”

  “How about a car? Or fifty thousand bucks?”

  “Perfect. You should send the letter out today.”

  “Me? No, no. This is all you, partner.”

  “Don’t you want to see who shows up?”

  “I look forward to you telling me all about it,” I assure Asami.

  I sit back and we sip our respective drinks for a minute.

  “So is your daughter still dating the boy in Jeen’s band?” Asami is trying to make actual conversation with me. I’m touched.

  “Travis, yes. They seem very fond of each other. How is Jeen doing?”

  “Fine. He really loves school.”

  “That’s great.”

  Awkward pause while I realize we have both run out of small talk. That’s fine. It’s time to go, anyway.

  “I’m heading out to get Max. Good luck with your Sasha hunt.”

  Asami turns her determined eyes to me and nods. Whoever Sasha Lewicki is, I can’t help but feel sorry for her.

  On my way out the door, I bump into Suchafox heading in. I haven’t seen him in ages—not even at pickup. He gives me a quick hug and the Polo wafts over me.

  “So you really do drink coffee, just not with me!” he says lightheartedly.

  “Ha, ha. Yes! How are you?”

  “Good. Do you have time for a chat?”

  I look at my phone. “No, I’ve got pickup in five minutes; don’t you?”

  His face falls a bit. “No, Ali does pickup now.”

  “Oh” is all I can think of to say. I’d love to know more, but I hate not being there when Max comes out. I was five minutes late to Scouts once and he was convinced I was never coming back for him.

  “Gotta run. See you soon.” I dash out to the minivan and as I’m getting in I turn to see Don still watching me from the door. He looks really sad. I make a mental note to reach out to him later.

  * * *

  Don’t ever tell Ron this, but I love a night to myself. After dropping a very confused but excited Max off at the store, I stop to pick up some groceries, then drive home. I know exactly how I want to spend my evening. An uninterrupted bath is unspeakable luxury when you are a mom. The knowledge that no one is going to bother me is intoxicating. I fill the deep claw-foot tub in our master bath with the hottest water I can stand and add an entire bag of Dr. Teal’s Epsom salts. It’s not exactly “Calgon, take me away,” but they do have a nice lavender scent. I light a few candles, get myself a generous glass of Oregon pinot noir, and connect my iPhone to the Bluetooth speaker. I put my phone beside the bed and think about texting Don to see if he’s okay, but decide to do it later. I don’t want anything distracting me from my bliss.

  As you know, my heart belongs to rock and roll, but when I’m trying to relax I like to switch it up with a little smooth jazz on Pandora. Anita Baker starts to sing.

  So here I sit, and you couldn’t find a happier person on the planet at this moment.

  When I first hit the water, it feels like a thousand tiny needles piercing my body, but once I submerge, the pain dissolves with the salt.

  I close my eyes and start to visualize the mud course. I take myself through each phase—the run, the wall, the pegs, the steep ramp, the freezing water, the ring of fire, and finally the crawl through the mud to the finish line. Two months to go, but I wish it were tomorrow. I’m so ready. I’m so ready.…

  My eyes snap open. The bath water is cold and I’m shivering. I must have dozed off. I stand up quickly and throw one leg over the tub while I reach for a towel. I must lean too far because the next thing I know, my foot on the floor is slipping forward and my other leg isn’t out of the bath yet. I’m forced into a split that crashes my vagina into the side of the tub. I feel a snap in my groin, followed by eye-watering pain.

  “Shit, fuck, ow, crap, goddammit!” I roll onto my side and back and force my other leg out of the tub.

  “Son of a bitch, mother fuck.” I start to cry. I can’t believe how much my groin hurts. I have no idea how I’m going to get up. I’m shivering, so I pull the towel over me for warmth and put my head down on the fluffy white bath mat. When I’ve calmed down I start crawling to the bathroom door. I need to get to a phone and call someone. The bottom half of my body is useless, so I rely on my arms and pull myself along the floor.

  Is it shallow that even in my excruciating pain, I can’t help but notice how strong my upper body is? Go me! Argghhhh! My groin is throbbing.

  I slither to the door of the bathroom, grab the knob, and yank it open enough to crawl through. God, I’m cold! Bone cold, as my mom would say. I’ve never fallen asleep in the bathtub, and now I know why it’s not recommended.

  I can only imagine the spectacle that Ron is treated to when he walks in a minute later as I’m making my way to my cell phone by the bed, naked, towel barely around me, crying and swearing at the same time.

  “Jesus, Jen!” He runs to my side and is down on the carpet with me in a nanosecond.

  “I f-f-fell in the t-t-tub,” I manage to sob out before I collapse into his body.

  “Where’s Mommy?” I hear Max yelling from downstairs.

  “Oh, my God. He can’t see this. He’ll have nightmares for years.”

  “Hang on, buddy. She’s in the bathroom,” Ron calls to him. “Get your PJs on and brush your teeth.” He looks at me. “What hurts? Did you break anything? Do you need an ambulance?”

  “I don’t think so. It’s just my groin.” I’m shivering uncontrollably.

  Ron appraises the situation and decides to scoop me up and onto the bed. He grabs a sweatshirt out of my drawers and helps me put it on. I welcome the feel of my pillows as I lean back and Ron pulls the duvet over me. My vagina is still throbbing, but my shivers are starting to die down.

  “I’ll be right back.” He kisses my head and runs out of the room. I can hear him talking to Max in a low voice and then going downstairs. When he returns, he has one of the ice packs I keep at the ready in the freezer, a glass of water, and two ibuprofen.

  “Can I take a look?”

  I nod and help him pull the duvet aside. He hisses when he sees my upper legs. I look down: there is already the beginning of a bruise right where my leg meets my hip. It’s hard to tell if my vulva is also bruised, because I’ve gone native down there, but it feels like it is.

  “Shit,” I say, and my eyes fill with tears again. I shove the pills in my mouth and take a gulp of water. After I swallow, a sob escapes my throat.

  “Shhh. It’s okay. Let’s get the ice on it.” Ron places the pack gently at the top of my leg. I wince at first, but soon the cold pack brings relief to the ache.

  “Is Max okay?” I sniffle. “How was roller derby?”

  “Max is watching TV and roller derby was fine. Tell me what happened here.” Ron’s velvet voice is rich with concern.

  “I was taking a bath and I fell asleep. When I woke up, I was cold, so I got out too fast and I slipped with one leg out and landed on my bun,” I say, using the word for vagina that came into our house via the wisdom of Graydon Cobb. (Max was thrilled to come home one day and tell me that Graydon says boys have hot dogs and girls have buns.) “I felt my groin snap and the pain was mind-blowing.”

  “Oh, babe, I’m so sorry. I think you should go for an X-ray tomorrow.”

  I nod, but suddenly realize I’m too tired to talk anymore. My eyes close without any effort on my part.

  “Do you have Garth tomorrow? I should call and cancel.”r />
  I hear Ron’s words, but they take a few seconds to sink in. Garth, training, mudder. Mudder!

  “Oh my God,” I groan.

  “What?”

  “All my training.” I take a deep breath and start crying yet again.

  “Hey, hey, hey.” Ron rubs my head. “It’s okay.”

  “Why are you crying?” says a little voice from the door.

  I quickly cover up the ice pack and look around Ron at Max. He’s wearing his “Where’s Waldo?” PJs, hat, and glasses.

  “Come here, sweetie.” I hold out my arms and he walks into them while still standing beside the bed.

  “Why are you crying? Did you miss us?”

  Only a child would see it like that.

  “I did miss you, but I also got a little boo-boo on my thigh and it hurts a bit.”

  “Do you want me to kiss it and make it better?”

  “That’s okay, Daddy already did. How was roller derby?”

  Max stands up, eyes shining.

  “It was so funny! These ladies roller-skate around in a circle and try to knock each other over. I didn’t like it at first, but Daddy says it’s all pretend and they don’t really get hurt when they fall.”

  I raise my eyebrow at Ron. He shrugs.

  “The other team was called the Roller City Rats.”

  “Yeah, Max loves that name.” Ron smirks.

  “Well, I’m glad you had fun, but it’s way past your bedtime. Give me a hug and let Daddy put you to bed so I can rest my boo-boo.” I hold out my arms again.

  Max snuggles into me. “But I hate when Daddy puts me to bed,” he whines. “He always falls asleep before I do.”

  “Not tonight, buddy!” Ron assures him as he swings Max over his shoulder.

  “Good night, baby.” I sigh and lie back down on my pillow. I’m asleep before Ron comes back to bed.

  19

  Four hours at Overland Park Regional Medical Center later, I learn I haven’t cracked or broken anything. I have a badly pulled groin muscle and a beauty of a bruise. As stupid as this sounds, I’m a bit disappointed. I mean, if I’m going to go through something this painful, I’d like to have bragging rights to a cracked pelvis, not a bruised front bum. Dr. Sintay, the man on duty this morning, tells me I’m lucky I didn’t have a more serious injury. “The bathroom is a very dangerous place, Mrs. Dixon.”