Eighteen

The Arms Race

Gutted after the breakup, and unable to shake Rachel’s social difficulties, I gave myself a couple of days to hang around the house, even letting Alva do drop-off. When my bathrobe began to take on aspects of my shape as though made from memory foam, I knew it was time to change my approach.

Licking my wounds, I went back and forth, considering the same dead-end options, from selling our place and moving somewhere else to homeschooling. But none of them were viable. Besides, it was possible it wasn’t any better anywhere else. I’d have to make this community work.

I noticed an email in my inbox, sent by Lee in her role as PTA president, and felt an immediate surge of embarrassment. She’d broken Jim and I up after I’d made a fool of myself by accusing her of targeting Rachel. At least I knew Jim wouldn’t repeat any of that; otherwise I’d never be able to show my face in public again.

The email made mention of several upcoming school events: a karaoke night, fifth grade Colonial Fair, Spring Fling, and school-wide assembly on internet dangers. I noticed that Lee was in charge of not one, but all of the events on the PTA calendar. All roads led to her.

Even though I was riddled with sadness and anxiety, being called “fixated” and overly suspicious was a mischaracterization. No matter what Jim thought, Lee had hurt my daughter and was responsible for the break Jim had requested. Now more than ever I needed to figure out my next move.

Mayfair fell into a long cold spell, one day blurring into the next. I was sitting in my kitchen about to leave for work when Sharon pinged, reminding me I’d agreed to go with her to the upcoming PTA-sponsored karaoke night.

Having barely survived the past few weeks, I was in no mood for more of the school scene. “Not singing!” I wrote in response.

“Ha ha. You promised and I bought tickets. Pick me up at 7:00 so we can go together.” She signed off and I went into the dining room to get the bag with my paperwork and planner. Rachel’s group assignment was left behind on the table, an in-school science project she’d worked on with Collette and Maya. She was supposed to turn it in to their teacher. The thing was due today.

There was the “let her fail” school of parenting. If I stepped up and rescued her every time, she’d never be able to keep all her academic and extracurricular balls in the air. But after what she’d endured over the past couple of months, from Lexi and Collette ousting Francesca to being excluded from parties, I knew that all it took was one glance from a blond, bangle-wearing little diva, or a well-placed PTA mom, and you were out.

I’d bring the report to school, and we’d work on organization at some future point. For now, it was all about the social stuff.

I drove over and parked in the school lot. A door at the back, the section near the music room and gym, was propped open. Cutting through would be easier than walking all the way to the front. I peeked in—the place was a mess: cartons everywhere and chairs stacked six feet into the air. I almost banged heads with the aide who was stationed inside, standing guard, for safety reasons.

“Hi,” I said to her. “Can I come through?”

“I think that would be okay. As long as you go up front and sign in at the office.”

I nodded. “What’s going on?”

“They’re replacing the old gym floor. Don’t slip. There are piles everywhere. A couple of moms are down the hall, packing up some of the sports equipment so the guys can send it to storage.” Her walkie-talkie beeped. “U-haul is here. Excuse me.” She went outside, pulling the door shut behind her.

I’d started to make my way down the hall, when I spotted two women several yards ahead, sitting with their backs to me, loading boxes. One was partially hidden by cartons. I recognized her as a mom who favored sunglasses and tennis whites, and seemed to be at the sidelines of every one of Rachel’s games. I didn’t remember her name, but recalled she always looked glamorous, even in the stands on Saturday mornings. I stepped quickly, eager to get the report to the office.

The taller woman pushed her glasses back on her head as she kneeled down to tape the carton she was packing. She was slender and sinewy. Obviously she had a lot of time and money, and made an effort to exercise often. Bodies like hers signaled resources. Now the other woman was speaking, asking to borrow the tape. I heard a drawl and caught a glimpse of blond hair, and my heart skipped: it was Lee. She was the last person I wanted to see.

I tiptoed back to the door and noticed the sign: EMERGENCY ONLY. ALARM WILL SOUND. I’d walk by them swiftly and depart with a quick wave.

I headed back down the same hallway again, toward the area where they were working, and inched toward the women. Their conversation made me freeze on the spot.

Lee was speaking: “Those social climbers moved in and just started bothering our family. That mother, I think she’s a lawyah in the city or something. Her hair is all over the place, a big ol’ mess. And she wears these boring shapeless suits, and tops them off with matching accessories—ridiculous; it’s not 1990 anymore.”

She was talking about my patient, Amy.

“From the time she moved in, she just wouldn’t let it go, asking mah friend Maureen for plans, inserting herself. And her daughter, well, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Her kid went after Collette’s best friends, Lexi and Hannah.”

Social engineering was Lee’s specialty. I could predict where this was going. Lee went on: “Those awful people will stop at nothing. Collette had been looking forward all week to a sleepover with Hannah, but that awful Lucy just stole it right out from under her.”

“What did you do?” A voice asked.

“Well, it just so happened that the next weekend was Jack’s fiftieth, and he wanted to go to our place in Florida, lounge on the boat. We thought, why not invite Hannah’s parents, Maureen and Bob? It was adorable; the girls posting their every move on Instachat: bikinis, palm tree, hugging in the pool. I guess Lucy’s sleepover with Hannah just got canceled.”

Lee’s friend laughed.

“And then that awful Lucy’s mother invited Hannah to go with her wallflower of a kid to Radio City to see the Rockettes and go ice-skating.

“Was Collette upset?” the disembodied voice wanted to know.

“Absolutely crushed. So I told her she could have a wonderful sleepover party. We spent all day the following Saturday getting decorations and picking a theme. That lawyah was calling and emailing everyone for playdates. She looked so desperate. So finally I sent her an email. I said, ‘Look here: Hannah and Lexi are mah daughter’s friends.’”

“Good for you.”

I stood silently, digesting it all, when Lee started in on me. “Oh and you know who turned out to be the biggest phony of all? The psychologist. I tried to be nice, seeing as she has no husband and she’s kind of mousey and all.”

Mousey? I wasn’t a Ford model, but mousey I was not.

She went on, “I actually felt sorry for her, having to work fulltime to support her daughter, alone in that big old house, until she started draping herself on our friend Jim like a cheap suit.”

Bitch!

“From the minute they moved in, she was just awful. She tried to discipline my child in the hallway, telling her not to bother some girl. And get this—ah tried to be nice at dinner and warn her about the social scene in town, and she lectured me about all people having value. It was hard to take. She thought she was too good for mah friends, she and her PhD.”

I was strangely relieved to hear that Lee had it in for me, and I hadn’t misread the situation.

She was still speaking. “And as far as that house, well, she took me around. The place was a disaster: leaks and patches, everything in a state of disrepair. Ah wouldn’t let a feral cat live there. I don’t know who she thinks she’s fooling, with her ‘elegant mansion on a hill,’ but she’s a nobody, living like that. Not my kind of person. Let’s just leave it at that.”

I heard Lee shifting in her chair, sharpening her fangs: “Oh, and I warned all the other women about her house—so unsafe—told them not to let their little darlin’s go over there. They should avoid these people at all costs.”

My chest muscles seized.

“What about the kid?” her friend asked.

“Oh. Collette took pity on her, and tried to do a makeover, but there was no helping that child. Like ah said, the two of them were just awful. Ah had to get rid of them.”

I couldn’t hear the other woman’s response because my heart was pounding so loudly in my ears. Just as I’d thought, she’d blackballed us, like we were pledges in her college sorority.

It was time to get even. My only question was how.

I couldn’t remember the last time I felt this much anger. I wanted out of there . . . and bad. Suddenly the back door opened again. The aide had returned. I raced out and around front to the office, handing the secretary the report.

Lee’s version of events confirmed exactly what I’d suspected about Rachel’s abrupt shift in fortune. That horrible woman had used the fifth grade girls as pawns, galvanizing their moms to join in her secret revenge scheme. Even if she hated me, I couldn’t believe she’d bully my child—and other moms would follow so blindly.

Now I knew for sure what kind of people I’d been up against. This was how Sisyphus must have felt, pushing that boulder up hill, only to have it roll farther back down each and every time.

I vowed to make Lee suffer like Rachel and I had. And then I thought of the photos. I was definitely using them. I’d have to figure out when.

I called Julie, placing the cell phone on speaker, deciding not to mention my revenge scheme. “Hey. It’s me, in the car. Can you talk? I won’t bore you with the latest developments here in Stepford.”

“What happened now?”

“I’ll cut to the chase. Lee, the ringleader, thought I insulted her daughter when I told the kid to ‘be nice’ to another girl. Plus, she didn’t like a comment I made about ‘finding something interesting in everyone.’ She thought it was psychobabble, and because of her dislike for me, went around, campaigning, urging others not to spend time with us. That’s why Rachel was shut out.”

There was silence on the other end of the line. “Get out of here. Are you sure?”

“Yes. It’s been a long time coming, and now I’m really done with letting them push me around and watching them hurt Rachel.” Julie cheered me on as I changed gears. “Now I have a question for you about Jim.”

Julie waited as I chose my words. “I seem to embody some pop culture phenomenon, the type of thing Dr. Oz would have a show about: professional women who fear abandonment.” Under my joke was a well of sadness. I felt the tears start to fall. “Seriously, what’s wrong with me?”

She didn’t miss a beat. “Your parents’ death caused a deep wound. You’re still reeling and terrified of getting close, and the possibility of another loss terrifies you, so you pushed him away.”

As I was thinking, she spoke again. “Have you heard from him?”

“Not since we broke up.”

“You could call him, apologize.”

“Maybe. He might not want to hear from me.” I decided to bring the conversation around to Julie. “What’s going on there?”

She described the latest melee between her daughters, and we laughed for a few seconds before hanging up. I knew Julie’s take on the Jim situation was correct. I had been too caught up in suspicions about Lee, and now it was probably too late to fix it. I could call him, but didn’t have the energy. I needed all my resources to deal with Lee.