Class(59)

With a grimace and a waggle of her large head, Ms. Millburn walked brusquely over to where Karen and, behind her, Ruby stood. “No one told me we were getting a new student,” she said. It was unclear to whom the comment was addressed, but it struck Karen as unnecessarily harsh. Then again, there must have been thirty students in the class already, if not more, which meant that Ruby would be number thirty-something. No wonder the teacher didn’t look pleased about the arrival of a new student, Karen thought guiltily. She also wondered if Ruby would be able to learn anything in such a large class. “Hello there,” Ms. Millburn went on, sounding slightly more genial as she leaned her head around Karen and into the hallway to address Ruby, who was now hiding directly behind her mother. “What’s your name?” she asked.

“Ruby,” she replied in a barely audible voice.

“Why don’t you come in,” said Ms. Millburn.

“Go!” said Karen, attempting to pry her daughter’s hand off her jacket sleeve.

But Ruby clung to her, wouldn’t budge. As so often happened these days, Karen felt her frustration growing into franticness. It was Ms. Millburn who finally coaxed Ruby away. “Why don’t you follow me, and I’ll show you where to put your coat,” she said, taking her hand and leading her into the classroom. Relieved, Karen ducked away.

As luck—or, really, the lack thereof—would have it, Karen nearly collided at the front entrance with Maeve and her father, Evan. Maeve looked predictably trendy in a leopard-print top with dolman sleeves and capri leggings. So did Evan in his black T-shirt with the mathematical symbol pi on it and black track pants with a white stripe down the side. Since Karen had last seen him, he’d grown a rectangular-shaped mustache that made him look the tiniest bit like Hitler. “Evan!” said Karen, hoping this encounter would go smoother than the others she’d had that morning.

“Hey—what are you doing here?” he said in his faux mellow drawl. Karen could never tell if he was stoned or just acting that way.

“Ruby just started here,” Karen said simply. No apology, no explanation. It seemed like the safest approach. Besides, it wasn’t as if Maeve’s family lived in the right zone either.

But, then, why did Karen feel so uncomfortable and so out of place? Or would she always feel that way, wherever she went in life? “Oh—cool,” he said. But he was looking at Karen—in her dowdy office separates—as if she were anything but.

“Ruby goes to Mather?” asked Maeve.

“This is her first day!” said Karen.

“Who does she have?”

“Ms. Millburn.”

“I’m in Ms. Carter’s class.”

“Oh, too bad,” said Karen, disappointed. “But can you do me a favor and find her at recess? She doesn’t know anyone here.”

“All right,” said Maeve, with a distinct lack of enthusiasm that Karen pretended she hadn’t detected.

“Well, it was nice to see you,” said Evan. “But I’m actually running late. And so is Maeve. So we really should get a move on.”

“Same here,” said Karen, childishly wishing she’d been the first to express the need to flee.

As she walked back out into the brisk morning air, she made a mental note to e-mail Laura that night, before Laura started drawing her own conclusions.



In the first years of Karen and Matt’s romance and then domestic partnership and even marriage, they’d spoken on the phone up to four times a day and e-mailed at least twice daily. But in recent years, entire weeks went by without either one of them trying to get in touch with the other one while they were at work. Familiarity was the most generous explanation. But on that day, anger and pride were clearly to blame for the silence.

It seemed only fair that Karen pick Ruby up from her first day at her new school. As such, she worked through lunch and slipped out shortly after. Which is to say, she fretted all morning and got nothing done. She had lunch at her desk. Then it was time to go. At five minutes to three, Karen found herself on the Mather playground surrounded by a mixture of Ski Hat Dads, Embroidered Tunic Moms, and slow-moving, middle-aged women mainly of Caribbean descent sporting gold teeth and pushing expensive strollers containing the baby brothers and sisters of the Mather students. To Karen’s relief, she didn’t recognize any of the parents or even nannies. Finally, the students from Ms. Millburn’s class appeared. Ruby was last in line. “Ruby!” Karen cried and waved, an exaggerated smile plastered on her face.

Her expression grim, the child said nothing as she followed her mother out of the schoolyard and through the gate. But once on the street, she said, “Can we go home now?”

“Of course,” said Karen, fearing the worst.

“In case you were wondering, I hated school,” Ruby went on.

“Oh, sweetie, I’m sorry,” said Karen, her heart heavy. “But the first day is always rough. Can you at least give it a week before you decide you don’t want to go back?”

“You said I only had to go one day.”

“How about two?”

Ruby didn’t answer.

“Well, was the teacher nice at least?” asked Karen.

“She was way too strict,” said Ruby, “and the kids were mean.”

“Oh no.”