The School for Good Mothers(86)

After six more songs, the lights come on abruptly. At first, parents think they’re being punished for dancing too much. But through the open doors, they see floodlights sweeping the field. A few minutes later, the guards order everyone to divide up for a headcount.

Frida looks down the line of fathers, the line of mothers. She looks for Tucker.

Sirens begin to blare. Ms. Knight tells everyone to remain calm. Tucker appears at Frida’s side. She’s relieved that he’s safe.

“I’ll get in trouble for even standing near you,” she says.

He holds her arm. “You’ll see me after we leave, won’t you?”

She doesn’t answer. He pulls her closer. She rests her cheek on his chest, sniffing the musty fabric, winds her arms around his waist. His hands are in her hair.

“I’m serious about you, Frida.”

She should be thinking about her daughter. Her daughter who starts preschool the day after tomorrow. Her daughter who’s old enough to have her own backpack and talk about the moon. She lets go of him. Steps away.

He wants to meet under the bleachers. “I’ll go first.”

“I can’t. We’ll get caught. I always get caught.”

“When are we going to get another chance to be alone? No one is paying attention to us.” The instructors and all but one guard have left to begin the search. Parents are shouting. Frightened. Someone says Roxanne, Meryl, and Colin are missing.

“What?” She needs to find Beth.

Tucker asks her to meet him in five minutes.

She says, “I am a bad mother, but I am learning to be good.”

“Frida, we don’t have much time.”

“I am a narcissist. I am a danger to my child.”

His hand on the back of her neck is warm and confident. He’s looking at her mouth. “I know you’ve thought about it.”

She squeezes her fist, trying to stay focused on Harriet, her little girl who is learning about bitterness and longing and disappointment. And a mother who may disappoint her still.





16.


FRIDA HAS BEEN ADDED TO the watch list. The school thinks she knew. Both girls told their counselors that they considered her a big sister. If they talked about running, she was obligated to report them.

The women in pink lab coats have been checking on her daily. Her sleep and food intake are being monitored. She now has three counseling sessions per week. She was questioned after the dance, again after the evaluation, again by her counselor. Roxanne’s side of the room was ransacked. Frida’s belongings were searched. Classroom, evening, weekend, mealtime, and cleaning crew footage was reviewed, as well as footage taken by Roxanne’s and Meryl’s dolls. The green-eyed guard who helped them escape was fired.

Some say they’ll turn up dead. Others think they’ll get caught. Linda thinks they’ll eventually get pregnant again and get those babies taken away too. She blames Meryl. Beth blames Roxanne. Neither mentions Colin.

Linda says she misses Meryl’s stank attitude. She liked how Meryl was always downing sugar packets, how she couldn’t handle caffeine, turned every morning coffee into coffee-flavored milk.

“Remember she’s not dead,” Beth says. “Don’t talk about her like she’s dead.”

Frida tells them both to be quiet. There’s enough attention on their table. They’re the only class with two mothers down, first Lucretia, now Meryl.

“Was it true about her and Roxanne?” Linda asks. “Were they, you know?” She makes fists and bumps them together.

Frida doesn’t respond. She directs the question to Beth, who’s been sulking about Meryl and Roxanne ever since the dance. Apparently Meryl never shared her escape fantasy with Beth. Frida’s failure to report her suspicions about the girls has been added to her file. She won’t risk further punishment by gossiping.

She never thought they’d actually do it. Roxanne had plenty of other ideas. She talked about hacking her classmates’ dolls with a magnet. Finding some poison ivy and leaving it in the instructors’ cars. No one will miss her more than Frida. Who will she count the days with? With whom will she whisper?

They’ve started Unit 8: Dangers Inside and Outside the Home. They’re being taught a fear-based mothering practice designed to develop their safety reflexes and test their strength. This week, they’ve been practicing on the quad, sprinting while carrying their dolls, pretending to escape from a burning building.

Frida and Roxanne used to imagine what trials awaited them: running over hot coals, being shot out of cannons or thrown into snake pits, swallowing knives. She misses Roxanne’s needy questions and dream giggling, talking about Isaac.

Roxanne would be angry at her for finishing third in Unit 7. Frida won’t have phone privileges until October at the earliest, maybe not until they leave. The dance was only a week ago. She feels as if she’s in mourning, ridiculous since they never kissed, let alone met under the bleachers. At night, she’s been imagining Tucker holding her. She’d rest her head on his shoulder. On the shoulder of the man whose son fell out of a tree, she’d weep and he’d comfort her. They’d know how their children were sleeping.



* * *



It is early September, one year since Harriet was taken away, eleven months since Frida last held her, three weeks since their last phone call. Frida barely remembers what her life was like a year ago, doesn’t remember the article she was writing, the elderly professor’s name, the dean’s name, why the deadline felt urgent, how she ever thought leaving the house without Harriet was possible.