Class Mom Read online

  “Dad says you’re going to want Burger King for lunch, but I said no way because you always say we don’t eat garbage.”

  “Well, today it looks like we will.” I give Max the most enthusiastic smile I can muster.

  There’s nothing like a greasy burger when you have a hangover. That’s pretty much all I took away from my four years at KU.

  It isn’t until I’m sitting on the toilet that the events of last night come crashing back to me. I hold my head in my hands and replay the scene outside the powder room. Boy, I am not the girl I used to be. The old Jen would have grabbed that man and kissed the shit out of him. But the girl who slept her way around Europe wasn’t married, nor was she in love. And I really do love my husband. I don’t want to be attracted to someone else. And yet, here I am.

  I go back to my bed and call Nina. No answer, as usual. She’s still in the dark place. I pause a moment, then dial Peetsa, but hang up before she answers. I’ve got to talk to someone about this, but I’m not sure how Peetsa will react. Damn it, Nina! Why can’t you get your shit together so I can lose mine?

  * * *

  We are chowing down on burgers and fries in the kitchen when I realize I’m feeling a bit better. Max can’t believe his luck. He’s actually having fast food and it isn’t someone’s birthday.

  “Can we do this every Sunday?” he asks hopefully.

  “Not a chance,” Ron says, although I’m sure he would be okay with it if I weren’t around to say no.

  I glance over at my kitchen-counter office and play with the idea of checking my email. I’m wondering how much crap I’m going to get for last night’s party turning into an episode of Home Shopping Network. Maybe none. I mean it’s not like I invited everyone … Oh, wait. While I’m wondering who painted “Sucker” on me, I boot up my iMac with the twenty-seven-inch screen (go big or go home, baby!) and check my email.

  Holy shit storm.

  * * *

  To: JDixon

  From: AChang

  Date: 12/13

  Subject: Class-less party

  Jen,

  I can’t say I’m surprised that you chose to turn a lovely class party into a jewelry sale. It’s pretty much what we have all come to expect from you as class mom. I know some people enjoy your “wacky” emails and generally lax attitude toward the job, but last night was the last straw. Do you even realize that people felt obligated to buy that overpriced junk? I only hope the money is going to charity. But I have to say there will be no more charity for you. I plan to take this straight to Principal Jakowski first thing tomorrow.

  Asami

  * * *

  Well, that was expected. I’ll bet she was composing this in her head while smiling at me over her champagne glass.

  * * *

  To: JDixon

  From: SCobb

  Date: 12/13

  Subject: Class party

  Jennifer,

  I’m surprised at you. What would make you think anyone wanted to go to a party so they could spend money? Such a tacky idea.

  Shirleen

  * * *

  I’m surprised she didn’t mention the fact that there were no gluten-free hors d’oeuvres.

  * * *

  To: JDixon

  From: CAlexander

  Date: 12/13

  Subject: About last night …

  Jen,

  I’m glad you organized the party last night, but was selling the jewelry really necessary? Being asked to fork out money for some really crappy stuff kind of put a damper on the whole night.

  The lesbians are disappointed.

  Carol (and Kim)

  * * *

  Ouch. That one hurt. Now the cool moms think I’m a jerk. I scroll through the rest of the emails—ten in total—and pretty much get the same message from each of them. Then I get to the one from Kim Fancy, which is addressed to the whole class.

  * * *

  To: Parents

  From: KFancy

  Date: 12/13

  Subject: Oh, what a night!

  Hello, friends,

  I hope everyone enjoyed themselves last night. It was certainly a pleasure to have you all to our home.

  I want to send a special thanks to our class mom, Jen Dixon, for organizing such a unique and fun gathering. Good job, Jen!

  See everyone at the holiday concert!

  Love,

  Kim

  * * *

  I’m contemplating how to respond to the class when one last email catches my eye and the Whopper I inhaled earlier does a flip-flop in my stomach.

  * * *

  To: JDixon

  From: DBurgess

  Date 12/13

  Subject: Last night

  Jen,

  Nice bumping into you in the bathroom! Let’s have coffee sometime.

  Don

  * * *

  For reasons I can’t explain, I immediately grab for my cell phone and text Don instead of answering his email.

  Thanks for catching me! So, do you mean coffee or, you know, COFFEE?

  Only a few seconds go by before he texts me back.

  Which answer gets me coffee?

  I giggle. I’m not sure how to answer that one, so I don’t.

  11

  * * *

  To: Parents

  From: AChang

  Date: 01/05

  Subject: I’m your new class mom

  Happy New Year,

  Most of you know me, but for those who don’t, I’m Asami Chang and I will be taking over the duties of class mom from Jennifer Dixon.

  It will be my pleasure to get our class back on track after a bumpy fall.

  First of all, these emails will be content driven, not a forum for me to tell jokes and solicit bribes. Second, I welcome comments and input. I may be in charge, but you definitely have a say.

  Below are things you need to know:

  January 18 is picture day. Make sure your children’s uniforms are clean and pressed. I’m concerned by the lack of emphasis most of you place on neatness. Please pay attention to this. I find a daily bath is very helpful. I’ve also noticed a lot of messy hair. I plan to stand beside the photographer with a brush and I will be using it. I suggest a ponytail for the girls with long hair, or perhaps a braid. I’m happy to braid hair that day. I will assume if you send your daughter to school with her hair down, you want me to braid it.

  I’m organizing a class coffee meeting after pickup on January 12. We will meet at Homer’s Coffee House at 8:30 a.m. Please be prompt.

  Miss Ward informs me our children will be taking a field trip to the Quindaro Underground Railroad Museum on February 28. I will need one mother to go with me. Please don’t volunteer if you already went on the recycling field trip. And be prepared to watch the kids closely and not socialize.

  And now here are a few messages from the school administration …

  * * *

  I have to stop reading. My blood is boiling. I thought I was over being pissed off, but as I unclench my back teeth, I can see this clearly isn’t the case.

  How is it acceptable for Asami Chang to give grooming alerts and threaten kids with braids? All I ever did was try to make people lighten up.

  Principal Jakowski’s words are still burned into my brain. He had accosted me outside the gym just before the kids’ holiday concert and basically fired me from being class mom.

  “I’m sorry, Jen, but some of the parents feel you use the position to push your own agenda.”

  “What agenda? I don’t have an agenda.”

  “Is it true you solicited bribes in return for better conference times?”

  “That was a joke! Do you really think I’d let someone buy me a coat?”

  “What about asking for Starbucks gift cards?” he asked.

  “Oh, my God, I don’t even remember doing that, but I’m sure I didn’t mean it.”

  “And of course there is the jewelry incident at the class cocktail party.”

  “Why does ever
yone think that was my idea?”

  “Mrs. Fancy said you asked her to throw the party. I mean, you did send out the invitations.”

  “She wanted to have the party,” I explained. “I was just following orders.”

  “Well, according to her, you asked for the party on that specific date and her jewelry friend was booked to come to town for a visit. She felt she had to let her display her things as compensation for the party being held during her visit.”

  Clearly, this man will believe anything.

  “I’m still having a hard time seeing how that’s my fault.”

  “Yes, well, some of the parents have also complained that you make racist remarks in your emails.”

  “What?” I screamed. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “That is not true!”

  Principal Jakowski pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to me. It was one of my first emails to the class. I had been organizing the curriculum night class get-together. He had helpfully highlighted the offending phrase.

  No hard feelings, Asami. I understand your people’s lust for power.

  I laughed before I could stop myself, and then put my hand over my mouth.

  “Okay, I can see how that might look, but I was just trying to make light of the situation. I mean, the woman was trying to have me kicked out after one week on the job! Nina Grandish and I already talked about this.”

  Of course, Nina! She’d talk some sense into this guy. I suggested the principal call the head of the Parents’ Association.

  “I already have. I had to make three calls and text her twice before she called me back. She didn’t seem interested in addressing the situation at all. In fact, she asked me to handle it. It seems she’s been under the weather. Anyway, now I’m forced to get involved and I want you to know we take racism very seriously in this school.”

  At that very moment, I realized that I was fighting for a job I’d never wanted in the first place. Principal Jakowski was handing me a Get Out of Jail Free card and I was trying to get back in. Was I nuts?

  “You want me to step down? Fine. Merry Christmas.” I stomped into the gym just as the first group of kids was starting their performance.

  As the sixth-grade class sang “Holly Jolly Christmas” (my God, that song is repetitive!) I stewed. They don’t want me? Fine. Nina agrees with them? Fine. I’d fix her wagon. I’d fix all their wagons. Visions of prom night in the movie Carrie kept me busy while each class filed in and sang Christmas carols.

  I really wished Ron had been able to make it to the concert. He would have talked me off the ledge. But he was in the middle of his Christmas savings bonanza down at the store. I’d promised him I would record the show on my phone.

  So when Miss Ward took the stage to introduce the kindergarteners, I brought my focus back to the gym. Max had been very secretive about what the class was planning, so of course I pushed Record and braced myself. God bless that Miss Ward; she never disappoints.

  The kids filed onto the stage in what are best described as tacky tourist costumes. Max was wearing a tropical shirt, a baseball cap, cargo shorts, and sandals with brown socks. Some of the kids wore cameras around their necks and zinc oxide on their noses. Naturally, they all looked adorable, but I couldn’t imagine what Miss Ward had in store for us. She explained that they wanted to remind everyone that people celebrate Christmas all over the world, not just in places that have snow (because people not remembering that is one of the bigger problems we face in the world?) And then they sang … get ready for it … “Kokomo,” by the Beach Boys! Not the Kodak moment I was imagining for my five-year-old son’s first Christmas concert, but I laughed at the sheer cuteness of it. I shelved my mass murder plot, at least for a little while.

  At the class party afterward, I was grateful to be surrounded by kids and parents the whole time, as it kept me from welling up about the shame spiral I was in. Fired! As class mom! How was I going to tell Max?

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Don Burgess with Ali and Lulu, looking at the class’s homemade snow globes. Part of me wanted to run to him and sob my broken heart out. Ron, while being my rock, would ultimately give me the “I’m the master of my own misery” speech. Somehow I knew Suchafox wouldn’t do that. He’d take me in those solid arms and tell me the people who got me fired were all assholes. Or would he? I’ll never know because, thank God, I didn’t act on that impulse. But I did receive a text from him later that day.

  Nice job on the holiday party. Sorry I didn’t get a chance to talk to you. You seemed kind of down. Everything ok?

  I didn’t think my rage/humiliation was noticeable. I need a better game face.

  Yeah, just the holiday blues, I guess. Thanks for noticing.

  And not ten seconds later …

  Well, I’m around if you want to talk.

  Hmm … maybe that’s what he meant by coffee. I thanked him and wished him a Merry Christmas. I was too bummed out to even attempt to be flirty.

  I tried to do what Taylor Swift does and just shake it off, but between the class mom thing and my wayward thoughts about Don, a pall was cast over my whole holiday season. Christmas Day was a complete disaster. Nina and Chyna came, of course, along with my parents, the girls, Raj (back in favor for now), and, to everyone’s surprise, Garth. I forgot that I had even asked him until he gave me his answer on Christmas Eve.

  Nina still wasn’t in great shape and I was in no mood to prop her up. I mean, she had basically thrown me under the bus. I thought it was gutsy of her to show up at all, but realized she probably did it for Chyna. She spent a lot of time by the Christmas tree, drinking wine. The only person she spoke to at any great length was Garth, although I couldn’t imagine what they’d have to talk about.

  It was nice to see Raj back in the mix. No ring on Vivs’s finger, but no hostility between them, either. Apparently they were at an impasse.

  And I guess I am, too. I log out of my email and sigh. Asami has won. The only thing left for me to do is get Max ready for picture day.

  Oh, yes, that is exactly what I will do.

  * * *

  As I plot my picture day revenge in my head, I run up to get changed for my first workout of the New Year. T minus four months until the mud run, and I know Garth is going to step it up.

  My phone buzzes as I’m putting my T-shirt on. I figure it’s Peetsa, but it’s actually Don sending me a picture of a beautiful baby. What the…? I type back to him.

  What’s up with the baby?

  It’s me. Cute, wasn’t I?

  Yes, you were. What the hell happened? You’re hideous now.

  Ha ha, puberty happened. We all can’t be natural beauties like you.

  I get goose bumps when I read this. I’m a natural beauty, am I?

  Well, it’s a curse, this beauty of mine. I spend all day fending off advances from strange men.

  Hey, I’m not that strange.

  I laugh out loud as I put the phone down to tie my shoe. It buzzes again almost immediately.

  What are you up to? Can you meet for coffee?

  There’s that coffee offer again.

  Sorry, I can’t. I’m going to work out.

  I could help you work out.

  I’ll bet you could, I think to myself, then snap back to reality. Why am I even encouraging this? Flirty texting is just a gateway to adultery. I know that’s what Nina would tell me. But it’s also harmless and kind of fun.

  I’m sure you could, but I have a hot trainer waiting for me in my basement. Gotta go!

  I push Send and turn off my phone in case I’m lured into any more sparring.

  As I walk down to Ron’s Gym and Tan, I note that Garth has finally taken my suggestion and let himself in. He’s busy setting up some kind of obstacle course for me.

  “Hey, Garth, happy New Year.” I walk over and hug him.

  “You too! What did you guys end up doing?”

  “The only thing you can do when you have kids.” I shrug. “You do fake midnight at nine o�
��clock and then head to Club White Sheets.”

  “Where is Club White Sheets? Is it that new place over on Grand?”

  I start to laugh. “It’s bed, Garth. Club White Sheets is bed.”

  He looks confused for a second, then bursts out laughing. His laugh makes me laugh ever harder and soon we’re rolling on the floor.

  Garth gains control first.

  “Okay. Enough. While you’re on the ground, why don’t we start with twenty push-ups and fifty sit-ups, just to get warmed up?”

  “Spoilsport.” I scowl, but flip over and give him twenty perfect man push-ups. I surprise both of us.

  “Nice, Jen. Wow! New year, new you.”

  “I can’t believe I just did that,” I pant.

  I flip over and launch into my sit-ups with newfound confidence. By forty I’m hurting, but I make it to fifty before I collapse, panting.

  “So much for the new me,” I say.

  “Don’t be silly. You’ve come a long way, baby! I’m proud of you. Now, up off your caboose and let’s get going.”

  * * *

  Garth manages to have me sweating like a pig by the end of the hour. As I’m walking him to the door, he casually asks about Nina.

  “What about her?” I ask a little too briskly.

  “Weeelll,” Garth drawls. I think I might have scared him off. “I had a really nice time talking to her and I’m wondering if she’s mentioned me at all.”

  “Jesus, Garth, I don’t know. I’ll pass her a note in science class.”

  As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I feel bad. I can see the hurt look in his eyes.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. I just haven’t spoken to Nina since Christmas. She has been going through a bit of a rough patch thanks to her ex, and she hasn’t been answering her phone.”

  Garth waves my comments aside.

  “No worries. I was just wondering how she’s doing. We had talked about her possibly designing a website for me.”