True Confessions of the Stratford Park PTA. Nancy Thompson Robards
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thirteen years old, on the outside looking in. It wasn’t until Tim and I moved to Asheville that I began to feel part of something—part of a community. I want to hug her and tell her it won’t always be this painful.
But I don’t dare.
Soon enough she’ll be in the flow, right there in the thick of things.
The kids at school are mean.
I blink away Mary Grace’s words, but find myself scrutinizing the children as they walk by: a group of five girls dressed cute—one in a Hollister T-shirt, another in a Roxy—walking shoulder to shoulder, sporting pastel messenger bags slung across their chests, rather than backpacks.
They whisper and giggle.
One squeals, “No way!”
Then they whisper and giggle some more.
Mean or nice?
They’re just girls. Girls being teenage girls.
Two boys stop five feet in front of us. I look to see if they notice Sarah— Hey, she’s cute and she’s the new girl. There’s value in being the new girl whether she realizes it or not—but they’re too busy play-punching each other to look in our direction.
A man dressed in a white polo and khaki pants—probably a teacher—breaks up their roughhousing.
“Don’t you boys have somewhere to be?” he says. “First bell rings in seven minutes. If you’re not in your seats, you’re tardy.”
Strict. Not necessarily a bad thing.
The boys move on.
As the throng of children starts to thin, I can see out the glass doors to the car line where parents are dropping off the last-minute arrivals.
Mercedes.
BMW.
Jaguar.
Lexus.
This is public school? A different breed than I’ve ever known.
“Mom, if they don’t hurry and figure this out I’m going to be tardy.”
I touch Sarah’s arm—that soft, smooth skin. “It’ll be okay. The teacher will understand since it’s your first day and all.”
She yanks her arm away. “How would you like it if you had to walk in in the middle of class?”
She’s so angry and I don’t know how to help her. It breaks my heart a little more because I know that feeling of just wanting to disappear. I wish there was something I could do to comfort her.
“I’ll check on things.”
By the time the administrators figure out what to do with us, school’s been in session for more than an hour.
“You’ll go right to second period since first hour is already over.” Judy glances at Sarah’s list of classes, then hands her the schedule. “Geography is your second class. It’s in room 234. Just go upstairs and turn left, you’ll see the room on the right. Your mom can walk you to class if you want.”
Sarah flashes me a don’t even think about it look. My heart sinks, but I bolster myself with the thought that at least she has enough confidence to navigate these strange halls alone.
“See ya.” She turns to go without a hug. I reach out for her, but she’s already gone.
“I’ll pick you up right here after school, okay?”
She doesn’t look back. Just walks straight ahead down that long, empty hallway.
CHAPTER 5
Elizabeth
I hadn’t planned on telling Andrew about the baby today. But I awoke this morning knowing I couldn’t put it off. Just as this child is growing in my belly, the need to tell him has gotten so huge, I feel as if I’m about to burst.
Before he left for work I told him I was going in late because I had some PTA business to take care of at school and asked him to meet me for lunch.
“What, like a date in the middle of the day?” he says, kissing me on the neck.
“Yeah, like a…date.”
He slips his hands inside my robe. “Or maybe I could come home for lunch.” Kisses me full on the mouth. Queasiness crests and rocks me like a little boat on the ocean. I pull away, weighing whether I’ll need to make a run for the bathroom. But the rebuffed look on Andrew’s face jolts me back to level ground.
Why wait until lunch to tell him? Just do it now.
But he’s already walking out the door, murmuring, “See you at eleven-thirty.”
I arrive at Dexter’s a little early, feeling a little better until I get a whiff of the catch of the day. The lunchtime din is at an all-time high and I wonder if I’ll be able to last. The server brings a basket of bread and water with the menus. I nibble on the bread and try to tell myself that it’s mind over matter. I didn’t have a lick of morning sickness with Anastasia. She’s been a model child. I wonder if the way I feel is any indication of this child’s personality—
The thought floors me and I realize that this is the first time I’ve actually thought of this little interloper as a…human being.
Oh, God, what are we going to do? I don’t want another child.
I sip my water and watch Andrew materialize through the crowd.
Okay, here we go. This is it.
Two women at a nearby table turn their heads to watch him as he passes. They have good taste.
With his thick, dark, curly hair and lithe runner’s build, he just seems to get better looking with age. People have said he looks like a mature Orlando Bloom. I can see the resemblance in his handsome face.
“Sorry I’m late.” He kisses my cheek and pulls out the chair across from me, glancing around the crowded restaurant as he sits down. “I was tied up on the phone. Clients in Paris.”
He waves at a man across the room.
“Jerry Singer with Nicholas and Anders,” he says looking at Jerry not me.
For a moment, I’m afraid Jerry Singer is going to come over to our table, but the woman he’s sitting with says something and draws him into the conversation.
“This was a good idea.” Andrew smiles, finally focusing his attention on me for the first time since he arrived. “I’m glad you suggested it.”
All traces of this morning’s misunderstanding have vanished and that puts me at ease. Well, until his brows knit and he touches my hand. “Are you okay?”
I smooth my hair with my free hand. “I’m fine. Why?”
He picks up a menu and opens it, glancing up at me. “I don’t know. You just look a little pale, I guess. A little tired.” He pulls his hand away and picks up the menu. “What are you going to have?”
“Your baby. I’m going to have your baby.”
I can’t help it. The words rush up my throat and into my mouth, the same way the bagel I tried to eat for breakfast came right back up and I couldn’t stop it.
Andrew looks momentarily amused, but all too soon that melts into confusion, as if he doesn’t understand.
I sit frozen. Oh God, why did I do that? I didn’t want to say it like that. I close my eyes a moment, trying to get my bearings.
“We’re pregnant, Andrew.” The words are softer this time. I open my eyes to gauge his reaction. “We’re going to have another baby.”
He closes his menu and lays it down. His entire face is now a dark, defensive question. “There’s no way. This can’t be.”
He