Other People's Houses(83)

“Why do they even care?” Frances had asked, bemused.

“I don’t know! But why did you tell them?!” Ava had been deeply annoyed and went on and on about feeling violated until Frances had had to drift off into her mental happy place just to survive. In her happy place there was a gentle hum of bees and birdsong, and no one Ever Said Anything. But anyway.

“So,” this mother said, innocently enough, “Flora-Grace just got shortlisted for the art museum’s painting contest, isn’t that fun?”

A tall blond mom turned to another and said, “Didn’t Butterfly Absinthe win that last year?”

“Yes,” her crony replied, “I think she did. It was before the drug thing, of course.” She turned to the innocent mom. “Does your daughter know Anglepoise Whateverthefuck? In eigth grade?” The innocent one, slowly realizing she had transgressed in some way she didn’t really understand, shook her head. “Well,” continued the other mom, “I think she got shortlisted, too, and she’s super, super talented. We should introduce the two of them.”

“We should!” said the tall blonde. “I’m sure they’d have a lot to talk about!” Having taken ownership of this topic, she then turned to Frances. “So, how’s Ava enjoying eighth grade? I hear she’s doing much better.”

Fortunately for Frances, this was not her first rodeo, so she merely smiled and nodded. The best defense against aggressively competitive parents is a simple one: silence. Followed by a definitive changing of the subject. To whit:

“So, the Fling . . . What’s the theme this year?”

“Well,” said the tall blonde, pulling out a stack of glossy magazines. “I was thinking classic seventies spank rags. Winged hair, split beavers, and a disturbing amount of pubic hair compared to today’s sanitized Internet porn.”

“Great idea!” said the woman next to her. “And we could have an S&M raffle to bring in the Fifty Shades folks! Maybe we can get a ball gag in school colors?”

None of this happened, of course, but imagining it kept Frances sane throughout the rest of the meeting, and she managed to get out without volunteering for anything more onerous than coat check.

After that she had to pick up medication for one of the dogs, who had developed a skin condition only slightly more expensive to treat than the aforementioned braces had been, and go to Staples for printer paper. She came out with the paper, a blank composition book with kittens on the front (Lally), a pack of monster pencil toppers in a variety of colors (Milo), and several “to do” list pads with humorous headlines (Ava). She forgot the ink toner cartridge she also needed, and had to go back, of course. It never failed. She resolved to keep one of the “to do” pads for herself.

Then she went home for an hour, during which she emptied and loaded the dishwasher, moved laundry through the system, scheduled a doctor’s appointment for Milo whose birthday was coming up, rescheduled an orthodontist appointment for Ava, and sat and gazed into space for nearly ten minutes trying to remember what it was she’d forgotten. Then she went to pick up the preschool kids.



* * *



? ? ?

Lally was in a good mood that day, and Lucas was open to being in a good mood once he’d had some lunch and watched a show. After lunch he surprised Frances by pulling an iPad out of his backpack.

“Look!” he said. “Dad got me a thingy so I could talk to Mom and today he let me bring it to school for show-and-tell.”

“Does it have games?” asked Lally, ever practical.

Lucas frowned. “No, does yours?”

Lally shook her head. “I don’t have one.” There was a pause, and they both looked at Frances.

“Don’t look at me,” she said. “I don’t have one, either.”

“Do you want to see my mom?” asked Lucas.

Frances frowned. “It’s OK, she might be busy right now.”

He shrugged. “She won’t answer if she’s in a meeting or something, that’s the rule. I only call once.” He’d already hit a shortcut on the screen, and a window had opened up placing a call.

Suddenly Julie’s smiling face appeared. Frances hadn’t seen her in several months, and she was shocked by how pale she was. Clearly Lucas didn’t notice, in that callous but useful way children have of seeing adults without really seeing them.

“Hey, Mom!” he said, grinning and waving the iPad. “Frances is here, look!” He turned it around and handed it to Frances. Then he and Lally turned and ran off to play, presumably. Or to cook meth in the upstairs bathroom, who knows?

There was an awkward moment. “Hi, Julie,” said Frances. “He took the iPad in for show-and-tell, and he was just . . .”

“Showing and telling?” asked Julie, smiling. “Hey, Frances, how the heck are you?”

“I’m good, how are you?” Frances held the tablet awkwardly, not sure if she was supposed to stand still. She needed coffee, so she began walking very slowly toward the coffee maker.

“I’ve been better, but I’ve also been worse.” She paused. “Why are you walking like the queen?”

Frances laughed and stopped. “I’m trying not to wobble you.”

“You realize you’re not really carrying a tiny me in your hands, right?”