Authors: EJ Valson,Michelle Read
Hopefully so, because I was counting on the bake sale to give me a reason to do something. I mean, I make a great box of brownies. And cookies from a tube were my specialty.
“Thanks, Liz.” I snapped my attention back to the president, who had taken the stage again.
“We look forward to sampling everything you whip up this year. As long as you include a macaroon basket like last year! And maybe make an extra in case someone out-bids me this time.” The smile on her face was downright Aunt Bea, I felt like an outsider in a small town. The only woman around who wasn’t born to organize, clean, or cook.
I once again felt cheated out of an opportunity to do something special, just like when I found out that Danna had chosen Claire to be her homeroom mother before the school year had even begun. Not that I cared about that any longer, I loved Claire and everything about her.
And as for the homeroom mom for Vy’s class, I hadn’t even heard from whoever it was yet. Probably just as well, I was beginning to lose interest in the system anyway.
Mrs. Richardson interrupted my pouting with “. . . on to the Jog-a-Thon. Janice?”
Great.
Janice and the Jog-a-Thon. Sounded like a CB handle for another goody-two-shoes perky blonde over-achiever . . .
“Hey guys! I’m Janice, the school’s gym teacher, and I’m pretty sure we’re gonna rock the Jog-a-Thon again this year! Like last year, we’re raising money for……”
The woman behind the pulpit didn’t look like any gym teacher
I
ever had. She was, well, just not very athletic looking at all. But whatever she was selling, I was definitely buying. She was bouncy, full of energy, and her face lit up with every word. She was short and stout, and absolutely adorable. She used wide spread hand motions for describing everything from the time of the event to location to the snacks that would be involved.
I found myself searching frantically for a pen when she began giving the date and times for later in the year, and eventually had several options for helping with concessions scrawled on the back of my hand. She reminded me of a cousin of John’s, able to get anyone excited about anything.
She eventually finished her spiel and practically bounced off the stage and back to her seat.
Janice the Gym teacher
, I smiled.
ELEVEN
About five months into the school year, I definitely felt acclimated. I knew just about everyone’s name, had a rudimentary knowledge of the resource room equipment, and felt almost comfortable coming to work everyday. Almost. Elizabeth was still mildly cordial, at best, and Danna still seemed to be avoiding me whenever possible.
I couldn’t believe it was already December, and that there were only five more months until summer. I remembered being a kid, and that the first half of the school year always seemed relentlessly long. Although I thoroughly
enjoyed
school as a child, it always seemed like Christmas break could never arrive fast enough.
Now here we were, a couple of weeks into December, and I was wondering where the time had gone. Christmas break was so near, and in only a handful of months, I would have a whole year of working under my belt. I was thinking about how proud I was of myself as I was getting ready for school this chilly Monday morning.
Had I actually managed to succeed at something other than being a devoted mommy? Sure seemed that way. And while my building assistant title wasn’t nearly as fulfilling as what I do at home, it felt great to help people all day.
It was probably the perfect job for me, come to think of it. I don’t think I would fare well at home by myself all day – with no Violet to keep me company. I would more than likely rot in front of the television if I didn’t have someone to pick up after.
Plus, the constant soundtrack of my life – Vy’s incessant chattering – had been replaced by the noise of a few hundred students. That was perhaps my favorite part of coming to work each day. I
needed
that noise, that low rumble of nonsense and learning, for my brain to function properly.
Yes, this position was definitely a perfect fit for me. I was never idle for long, and I rarely did the same thing two days in a row, which helped with boredom. I had gotten to visit nearly all the classrooms and knew not only the teachers’ names, but many, many of the children’s names as well. They all called me “Miss Erin”, and I was pretty sure none of them actually knew what my job
was
at the school. They probably thought I was the school hermit, or the school pet.
I had been asked by a couple of Violet’s new friends why I never went home, or to work, like their mommies. A few students asked if I was a teacher, or a janitor – and if I was a janitor, then where were my dangly keys and cool flashlight?
I smiled and put the last of the hot rollers in my hair, remembering a little boy who had one day said, “What
do
you do, then?” It reminded me of the way people spoke to me when my only title was stay-at-home-mommy. I had simply smiled at the boy and said, “A little of everything.” That was obviously enough of an answer for him, because he shrugged and disappeared down the hall.
I unplugged the
hot roller-heater and trotted carefully downstairs to the coffee pot, which had been calling my name since starting its cycle. That delayed brewing timer sure made it easier to get going in the morning – gotta love technology. When I got downstairs, the whole kitchen already smelled like roasting hazelnuts.
I leaned carefully over John’s shoulders and kissed his cheek.
“Morning.”
He eyed my head full of hot plastic things curiously.
“Morning,” he smiled.
“I was feeling fancy this morning. Thought I’d put a little extra effort in. You don’t like it?”
“No, I like it.” He smirked behind his glass of juice and newspaper. “It’s a good look for you.”
I mixed my coffee concoction; milk, coffee, and a packet of hot chocolate, while watching my husband at the table. I still wasn’t used to seeing him every morning before work. He was always pleasant, and we always had a good time together, but the few stolen minutes in the morning that we had to ourselves were more valuable than I had imagined they would be.
I walked over and ran the fingers of my free hand through the back of his hair, drinking in my cup of energy and watching him read. He leaned his head back and kissed me again, then I started to head upstairs to get Violet out of bed when something out the back window caught my eye.
“Erin. Honey?” John was saying.
I had frozen, with my hand on his head, apparently.
“What is it, sweetie?”
“Oh . . .” A lie was the best I could come up with. “Nothing.” I kissed him again, nearly dunking my curlers into my mug, and went upstairs.
I had been so busy at school lately that I hardly noticed the lack of one Azura Dane on campus. Now that I thought about it, though, I hadn’t seen her for weeks. So what was her Jeep doing in Elizabeth’s driveway? And why was it so very dirty?
Of course it was none of my business; I found
that
out early in the school year. I threw any interest out of my mind and climbed the last stair.
I set my mug down on Violet’s dresser and sat down on the edge of her bed. She had one arm flung up over her head like she was fainting and her mouth was nearly all the way open – loud snores were pouring out of her.
“Vy,” I whispered. “Time to wake up.”
She then snorted so loudly that she woke herself up, and turned to look at me.
“Morning, Mommy,” she answered hoarsely. I waited a few seconds for what I knew would come next. She smiled. Then she let her lids close and started snoring again almost immediately.
“Vy.” I waited. And waited. “Honey. It’s time to get up.”
I sat her up, pulled her out of the covers, and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. She slumped into my chest and snored heavily.
“Do you remember what today is?” I continued, not waiting for her to be conscious – I knew it would come soon enough. I couldn’t blame her for having a brain that didn’t function clearly in the morning. It was hereditary, but at least I had my coffee to get me jump started.
I reached over toward the dresser with the hand that wasn’t supporting Violet’s shoulders and took a deep drink, wondering how early was too early for a kid to discover the magic of the coffee bean.
I set the cup back down and tilted my daughter’s head back, brushing the matted hair out of her face.
“Violet,” I said louder. “Do you remember what
today
is?”
“Hmmm?” she finally mumbled.
She rubbed her eyes roughly and made a horribly sour face. I pulled her hands away from her face and she groaned in protest.
“You’re going to hurt your eyes doing that,” I scolded. “It’s Monday.”
She groaned again.
“And it’s . . .”
I could see the wheels turning, ever so slowly. It was coming . . .
Her eyes shot open.
“Polar Express Day!” she squealed.
“Ahhh, yes. It is.” It really didn’t take much to get Violet excited about the day sometimes. She was suddenly clear-headed and quite in the moment. She slid off the bed and made a bee-line for her dresser, talking hurriedly.
“Remember, Mom? I get to wear pajamas to school! But not these pajamas. The new ones Grandma got me. And slippers.” I’d never seen someone switch gears so quickly before, she was off and running. “
And
we get to watch a movie in class . . .
and
drink real hot chocolate!”
During this rant, she had slipped out of her night clothes and into a fresh pair of pajamas for school – complete with large, fuzzy slippers with jingle bells on them. Ms. Autry would like that for sure.
“Do I get a good morning hug?” I asked when she was finished dressing.
“Oh. Yeah.” Her mind was still reeling, I could tell. “Then I have to go eat breakfast, but I
don’t
have to change my clothes bec—Ugh! Mommy, aren’t you going to fix your hair for school?!”
She hugged me without waiting for an answer and pulled away to go downstairs. I grinned and held on to her, squeezing her tighter.
“I’m not done,” I smiled.
“Ugh,” she sighed – it really annoyed her when I took up her valuable time with things like hugging.
She waited patiently, though, with her arms around my waist, growing more fidgety by the second. She knew it was better to wait it out than to fight it. I lingered with my face buried in her hair until I had gotten my fill, and released her.
“
Thank
you!” she yelled, and ran out the door.
“Daddy!!!” I heard her bellowing as she clamored down the stairs. “It’s Polar Express Day! And I don’t have to wear real clothes to school!”
I loved that voice. She really did believe that the universe revolved around her. As she should. I gathered up the clothes she had strewn about and tossed them into her hamper. Then I made a lazy attempt at straightening the bed, simply throwing the covers so that they lay mostly even. When I finished arranging her pillows and animals so they would be ready for bed tonight, I kneeled onto the bed to look out the window.
I wasn’t sure what I expected to see, or even what I
wanted
to see. I assumed I would only get another glimpse of the Jeep in the driveway. I was more than surprised, then, to see Elizabeth and Azura on the front porch of the Asch home, along with another woman in a grey blazer who had her back to me. They were in what looked like a pretty heated argument about something.
Elizabeth’s face, from what I could tell from a distance, was set hard in a frown. Her arms were crossed. It was Azura’s expression that baffled me, though. Her face was desperate – searching. I’d never seen anything so uncertain in her features before.
The woman in the grey blazer had her arms flailing wildly while the other two watched.
I leaned more heavily on the window sill, trying to get a better view of the woman whose face I couldn’t see. Whoever it was, they were
very
worked up about something.
She gestured forcefully to Elizabeth, and Elizabeth blushed. She had been scolded for something. Azura’s face was still violently searching
, I had never seen her look so unsure before. So helpless.
The woman turned to her, throwing her hands into Azura’s face, which made her step backward in surprise. I squinted harder and leaned closer to the window.
Azura started to speak, using her hands, which was also unlike her. She was trying desperately to get the woman in the blazer to understand something. The woman only crossed her arms tightly and began tapping her foot. Her stance now mirrored Elizabeth’s, who was obviously on the same side of this argument.
Just as I began talking myself away from the window, severely worried that one of them might see me, the woman in the blazer threw her arms up in a heady convulsion and then thrust a finger across the street behind her without looking. She jutted the same finger right into Azura’s face, then back across the street – pointing undeniably at
my house
. She never seemed to ease up on the yelling, and Azura simply rolled her eyes in exhaustion.
All I could do was blink. Slowly. It seemed like I was forgetting how to breathe a lot lately, so I just decided to keep blinking.
Why was she pointing at my house?
Surely – surely – they weren’t talking about
me
? It wasn’t possible.
Again, the woman jabbed her arm out behind her in my direction. This time her palm was open as she waved it up and down. They
were
arguing about me . . . or my house. I swallowed the lump in my throat just as Azura rolled her eyes in defeat and turned toward the Jeep.
At the same time, Elizabeth characteristically flung her hair over her shoulder. When she did, her hard eyes drew up to the window – the window I was watching from. Her features, which were already set in anger from her part in the argument, were suddenly ablaze.
I felt like I was shrinking inside, like I wished I could be anywhere else in the world rather than the other side of that window. The same fear from the restaurant wine glass incident, the same confusion from seeing Danna act like Super Woman, the same sense that I didn’t belong here like I felt at the beginning of school – all those feelings came to a head in an instant. In a glare – Elizabeth’s glare.
I watched her mouth something slowly, deliberately, harshly, to the other two. Azura stopped and peered around the front of the Jeep, her eyes wider than I had ever seen them. The woman in the grey blazer swung her head around to look up at me as well
, and I felt all the blood drain from my face. It was Charlotte.