Class Mom Read online

  Hi, Jen,

  We will bring bagels.

  I’m surprised Miss Ward is letting you have a Christmas party. I thought she doesn’t celebrate “Hallmark” holidays?

  xo

  P

  To: PTucci

  From: JDixon

  Date: 12/5

  Subject: Miss Ward’s class is having a bash!

  Hey, P,

  Well, you would be correct about that. But if you read my email carefully, there is no mention of this being a Christmas party. It’s just a party that takes place after the holiday concert. This was a big negotiating point with Miss Ward, believe me!

  Are we still on for girls’ night Wednesday?

  xo

  Jen

  To: JDixon

  From: SCobb

  Date: 12/5

  Subject: Miss Ward’s class is having a bash!

  Jen,

  Not that you asked, but I will bring soy butter for Graydon’s gluten-free bagel.

  Shirleen

  To: JDixon

  From: DBurgess

  Date 12/5

  Subject: Miss Ward’s class is having a bash!

  Hey, Jen,

  I’ll cover doughnuts for you.

  Cheers,

  Don

  To: JDixon

  From: JWestman

  Date: 12/5

  Subject: Miss Ward’s class is having a bash!

  I’ll bring cups.

  Thanks,

  Jackie

  To: JDixon

  From: KFancy

  Date: 12/5

  Subject: Miss Ward’s class is having a bash

  Hi, Jen,

  Silly me, I thought this email was going to be about the parent cocktail party!

  We will be happy to bring coffee to the party. Cream and sugar too, I’m guessing?

  While I have you, let’s look at December 1 as a good night for the adult party. I know it is only 12 days away, but I’m happy to host it. I just need you to send the invite.

  It will be a great way for all of us to launch into the holiday season, don’t you think?

  Kim

  * * *

  “Suffering cats, that woman is persistent!”

  “Who?” asks Ron. We are in bed doing what every red-blooded American couple does at night—watching TV and checking our email.

  “Kim Fancy. She’s been bugging me to have a class cocktail party since curriculum night.”

  Ron shrugs. “So?”

  “So? What do you mean, ‘so’?”

  “So what’s the big deal? It might be nice to hang out with other parents.”

  “We do. We hang out with Peetsa and Nina.”

  “No, you hang out with them.” Ron mutes the TV. “Is it too much work for you?”

  “No. She’s going to host it. But she wants me to send out an email inviting people.”

  “And that’s a problem because…”

  I really hate when Ron gets like this. He’s supposed to be on my side till death do us part. But sometimes he goes all logical on me instead.

  “Because … I don’t want to! It’s her party. If it’s a class event, then I feel like it should happen when I’m ready. Not because she wants it.” As I’m saying this, I know it sounds ridiculous.

  Ron just looks at me, then unmutes the TV.

  As I watch Law & Order: SVU and brood, my phone buzzes. To my delight/surprise, it’s a text from Don.

  Hey there. I’m bringing doughnuts to the Christmas party. Is it okay if they have sprinkles? I’m not too familiar with food allergies and that Graydon’s mom seems pretty strict.

  I laugh.

  “What?” Ron asks.

  “Just one of my class parents asking a question.”

  He turns back to the TV, and I respond to Suchafox.

  Neither am I, but I’m relatively sure that sugar is okay.

  I hit Send, then start another message.

  Hey, if there was a parent cocktail party before Christmas, would you and Ali go?

  He replies immediately.

  Can’t speak for Ali, but I’d be there.

  “Huh.”

  “What?” Ron asks again.

  “Nothing,” I mumble and start to type with purpose.

  * * *

  To: Parents

  From: JDixon

  Date: 12/5

  Subject: And one for the grown-ups

  Hi again,

  Why should the kids have all the fun? Kim and David Fancy would like to invite the parents of Miss Ward’s class to a cocktail party at their home on December 17 from 7 to 10 p.m. All you need to bring is your good cheer!

  Address: 9314 West 146th Place in Overland Park. You can RSVP directly to the Fancys.

  Hope everyone can make it!

  Jen

  To: JDixon

  From: SLewicki

  Date: 12/5

  Subject: And one for the grown-ups

  Hi,

  I will be out of the office until December 8.

  Thank you,

  Sasha

  * * *

  * * *

  I have never been a big fan of organized “girls’ nights.” For years, every night was girls’ night with Vivs and Laura. I was so busy with work and my daughters that I didn’t have time for friends. Then Nina came along and she made it seem like a really good idea to go out and get drunk once in a while. So we have made it a bit of a tradition. Once a month or so, we go for margaritas at Luna Azteca. Usually it’s just the two of us, but tonight I have invited Peetsa to join Nina and me. I figured it’s a safe match because they already know each other.

  I pull up to Peetsa’s house in Ron’s old blue Camry. I left the minivan for him so he can pick up Max and his friends from Scouts.

  I don’t even have to honk my horn. As soon as I pull in, she bolts out her front door and comes loping down the driveway. She practically rips the car door off getting in. I’m guessing she’s trying to get away from the bitter cold night.

  “Drive, drive, drive!” she gasps.

  I throw it in reverse and do my best Mario Andretti out of there.

  “What the hell?” I ask.

  “Zach was in the bathroom. I had to get out before he figured out I was leaving.”

  “Won’t he freak out when he sees you’re gone?”

  “No. It’s the leaving that makes him crazy. Once I’m gone, it doesn’t matter.”

  “Laura used to freak out whenever I left. Preschool was the worst.”

  “Max doesn’t give you a hassle?” she asks, with more than a little envy in her voice.

  I shake my head.

  “As long as he can watch a little TV, he doesn’t care who is watching him.”

  “Honest to God, I don’t know what people did before TV. And I really don’t get those anti-TV parents. I mean, good for you if you can amuse your kids and make dinner and fold laundry all at the same time. But I don’t choose to make my life that hard, know what I mean?”

  I laugh at her. I’ve never seen Peetsa so whipped up about something.

  “What?” she asks.

  “I’ve just never really thought about it.” I shrug. “Who’s so anti-TV?”

  “Oh! Didn’t I tell you? Miss Ward is. She emailed me the other day to tell me she thinks Zach watches too much TV.”

  “How the hell would she know?” The traffic light in front of us changes to red and I have to brake a little too hard. We both lean forward and then snap back into our seats.

  “Apparently every morning at circle time she asks the kids to tell her what they did the night before. I guess Zach always says he watched TV. I mean, don’t they all watch TV? Does Max?”

  I don’t know what to say. I’m definitely not anti-TV, but we do limit it to thirty minutes a night, mainly because Ron wants to spend time with Max when he gets home from the store. And when you factor in dinner, bath, and reading there isn’t much time left. That’s why more than half an hour is such a treat for him. But I don’t sa
y any of this. Instead I say:

  “Of course! He loves TV.” Which isn’t a lie at all.

  We pull up to Luna Azteca. It’s freezing out so we hurry into the restaurant.

  I see that the owner, Mr. Barrera, has gone with a tropical Santa motif for his Christmas decorations this year. Nothing says ho-ho-ho like Santa in red flowered shorts hanging ten on a light-up surfboard.

  Nina is already sitting at a table and waves us over.

  “There she is,” I say to Peetsa, and we head to the table.

  “Hey there!” I give Nina a hug.

  “You guys know each other, right?”

  They smile at each other.

  “Yup.” Nina nods. “We go way back.”

  And just like that, I feel uncomfortable. God, am I so petty and jealous that I can’t have two people I adore have a history without me? What am I, in seventh grade? While I’m chewing on this, Nina says, “I started without you,” motioning to the empty margarita glasses in front of her.

  “Well then, we’d better catch up.” Peetsa winks at me.

  Just then the waiter appears with another drink for Nina.

  “Two more for my friends, Jonathan,” she says to the waiter, with a bit of a slur. “And keep ’em coming.”

  Hmm. Nina, drunk. Not like I haven’t seen it before, but generally not before eight p.m.

  “Hey, slow down there.” I’m half joking and actually a little embarrassed. I don’t want Peetsa to think my best friend is a lush.

  “Let’s get some guacamole, too, please,” I yell to the waiter’s back.

  Nina definitely needs to get some food in her.

  “So, what’s up, girls? Anything new?” Nina asks, chewing her ice.

  “Well, Max came home from school and told me Miss Ward has a great pair of legs. I’m trying to figure out which—”

  “I found Sid,” Nina blurts out.

  “What?” I say, a little too loudly.

  “Who’s Sid?” Peetsa asks me.

  “I didn’t know you were still looking for him. What the hell, Neens?”

  Nina avoids my glare. “I really wasn’t, but I have a permanent Google search on his name, and this morning I got an alert.”

  “Who’s Sid?” Peetsa asks again.

  “You can do that?” I ask, impressed.

  “Yes.” Nina sounds annoyed. “Everyone can do that. He posted a picture on Facebook and it came up in the search.” The ice chewing is getting more intense.

  Peetsa slaps both hands down on the table.

  “Who is Sid?” she asks for the third and sounds like final time.

  “Sorry, P. Sid is Chyna’s father.”

  Peetsa looks at Nina. “Your ex?”

  “We were never married, but yeah, my ex. He took off just before Chyna was born.” Nina throws back the rest of her margarita in one swallow.

  At this magic moment, Jonathan returns.

  “Here are your drinks, ladies!” he practically sings. “Guacamole is on the way. Do you want to hear the specials?” His smile fades as he reads the mood of the table. He wisely backs away. “Just call me when you’re ready to order.”

  “He’s fucking married,” Nina spits out. “He’s married. With kids.” She puts her hands over her face.

  “Oh, my God. Where is he living?” I have so many questions, but that’s the first one that comes to my head.

  “San Jose.”

  “California?”

  “No, Pennsylvania.”

  Peetsa jumps in before I can make a snide remark back.

  “Wait a sec. How long have you been looking for him? Twelve years?”

  Nina and I both nod.

  “Why wouldn’t his Facebook page or something else have popped up before now?”

  “He didn’t have one,” Nina answers between ice crunchings.

  Jonathan our waiter slithers in and puts down the guacamole and a basket of tortilla chips. He raises his eyebrow to me, as if to say, “Order now?” I shake him off.

  “He just got a Facebook page? A little late to the party, isn’t he?” Peetsa looks incredulous.

  “He was never the sharpest tool in the shed.” I scoop up some guacamole and pop it in my mouth.

  Nina gives me a sad look. “He really wasn’t,” she agrees. Her eyes start to water, but she lets out a laugh instead. “But, God, was he hot.” She wipes her cheek.

  “Well, I would hope so,” says Peetsa. “I’d hate to think you fell for a guy who is both stupid and ugly.”

  This makes us all crack up.

  “So, what’s on his page?” I ask when we settle down.

  “All he has right now is a picture of a three-year-old sitting beside a newborn baby and a lot of messages that say, “‘Welcome to Facebook!’”

  “How do you know he’s married?” asks Peetsa.

  “It’s in his status. It also says he works for some tech company.” She turns to me in disbelief. “He’s got a job! In high tech!” Her eyes well up again.

  “What is he, the janitor?” I mumble. Nina starts to cry.

  I’m not sure how long I’m going to be able to fake my sympathy. Sid is such a pant load, and seeing someone as dynamic as Nina fall to pieces over him makes me crazy.

  “Hey, let’s get Jonathan over here,” I suggest. “If we’re going to drown our sorrows, I need some food.”

  I wave to Jonathan, and Nina blows her nose with her napkin.

  By the end of the night, Peetsa and Nina are three sheets to the wind; I have designated myself the driver since I nursed one margarita the whole evening.

  After leaving Jonathan a very nice tip (I tend to tip well because I was a waitress in college and it’s a pretty crappy job), we head out to the car. The freezing cold is like a slap in all our faces and I think helps to sober the girls up a little. I drop Nina first and watch from the car as she wobbles to her front door and figures out how to use her key.

  “Wow,” says Peetsa as we watch her stumble in. “Is she going to be all right?”

  “I hope so. I don’t envy the hangover she’ll have tomorrow, but maybe she’ll be a little less emotional about Sid.”

  “I’ve never seen this side of her.” P. shakes her head.

  “Everyone has their kryptonite.” I shrug. “Nina’s is Sid.”

  I back the car out of the driveway and head for Peetsa’s house.

  “What’s yours?” she asks me.

  “My kryptonite? Rock stars.”

  She laughs. “I would not have guessed that about you.”

  “Well, my friend, let me tell you a little story about Vivs’s father.”

  10

  Garth has me doing jumping jacks downstairs in Ron’s Gym and Tan.

  I’ve noticed that, since having Max, I don’t do them with the same abandon I used to. Things just aren’t as tight down there, if you know what I mean.

  When I asked him to step up my cardio, I had visions of jogging on a treadmill. But this works, too, I guess. I definitely don’t huff and puff when I run up the stairs anymore.

  “… ninety-eight, ninety-nine, one hundred. Good job, Jen! Nice form. Get some water.”

  “I have to cut it short today,” I tell him between gasps and gulps of water. “We have a party to go to tonight, and I’m actually going to get a manicure.”

  “Oh, fun! I love holiday parties.”

  I smile at Garth. He’s always so enthusiastic. When I tell him I need to get my car washed, he’ll say, “Isn’t a clean car just the best?” I wish I could rub some of his positive energy off on Nina. She has gone to the dark place since our night out. When I can get her on the phone, all she does is moan. I went to her house yesterday to bring her Chick-fil-A (her favorite) and she was a mess. She even asked me to take Chyna for the weekend, which I gladly did under the pretense that I needed a babysitter for both Friday and Saturday nights. It’s half true: I’m going to leave Max with Chyna when we go to the Fancys’ shindig tonight. I didn’t really need her last night, but Ron and
I took the opportunity to go see an early movie. It had real people and sex and swearing. I had forgotten movies like that existed.

  I’m roused from my thoughts by Garth snapping his fingers in front of my face.

  “Hello? Where did you go? I said get some water, not some shut-eye!”

  “Sorry. Just thinking about tonight.”

  “Well, give me twenty push-ups and tell me all about it.”

  I drop to my knees on the mat and get into position.

  “Oh, I think we can skip the girly push-ups.”

  I give him a frantic look.

  “Come on. Let’s try some real push-ups. Give me as many as you can.”

  I put myself into plank position and ease into it.

  “One, two…”

  “I’ll count. You just work. So, where’s the party?”

  “At the home of some parents in Max’s class.”

  Garth nods. “I’m guessing they’re not friends.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Well, if they were your friends you’d say the party is at a friend’s house.”

  I don’t know why I think this is so funny, but I can’t stop laughing. Clearly, the endorphins are getting me high.

  “Well, I hope you’re wearing something sleeveless, giddy girl. Your arms are looking great.”

  “You know what? I think I will. What about you? Got a hot date tonight?”

  Garth smiles. “I wish! I think my dating days are over.”

  I think about my mother’s reprimand at Thanksgiving.

  “Well, if you don’t have any plans for Christmas, we’d love to have you for dinner. My parents will be here, too.”

  “Oh, that’s so kind of you. Can I let you know?”

  “Of course.” I’m a little surprised that I didn’t get a yes immediately, but whatever.

  Garth extends his hand to me. “Okay, that’s it for today. Have a great time tonight, hot mama.”

  “From your lips,” I mutter.

  * * *

  “So, what is this couple’s name, again?” Ron asks as we are driving to the Fancys’ neighborhood.

  “Kim and David. Daughter is Nancy.”

  “And what does he do for a living?”

  “No idea,” I reply. “They’re from New York, so something in finance maybe? Wow. Is that their house?” I point to the one at the end of the street. Sure enough, it matches the address I have written on a piece of paper in front of me.