Danny's Mom (14 page)

“Talking to you here. I mean, like this won't get you in trouble or anything, right? Because I know I'm not supposed to talk to you, but this doesn't count because it's not like we're in your office or anything, right?”

“Of course you can talk to me, Liz. I miss seeing you. And you never did anything wrong. So please don't worry about getting me in trouble.”

Liz tossed the cookie in the trash and raced back to me. She bounced from foot to foot as we talked. “Anyhow, Liz, you and I are friends, but we both need to remember I'm not your counselor.” While I spoke, I noticed Fred Morris walking toward us. “So when you come to the counseling center, you really should see Ms. Greene. Okay?”

“Gotta go.” Liz turned to the door and disappeared just before Fred reached me. He wore a black shirt, unbuttoned nearly to the waist. Chunky gold chains dangled from his neck. “Yo, Mrs. Maller. How goes it? And what's up with skinny Lizzie?”

“Nothing. Why?”

“Oh, just looking out for—”

Peter's voice blasted from a speaker over the door. “May I have your attention, please. This is Mr. Stone. I want to welcome everyone to our tenth annual art fair. We hope you're enjoying the show. And you're in for a special treat this evening because in a few minutes, the concert band will perform by the north entrance to the cafeteria. Concert band members, please report to the music room immediately.”

“Now, what were you saying, Fred?”

“Just looking out for my girls, that's all.”

“I don't understand.”

“Well, Tina and Jen have more important things to do than come to the art fair. So I'm just scouting around for them, making sure everyone's behaving. Know what I mean?”

“No, Fred. I don't know what you mean.”

“Oh, nothing for you to worry about, Mrs. Maller.” He scanned the room. “Just keeping tabs on skinny Lizzie. I know she's been talking to you.”

“What Liz and I talk about is not your business, Fred.”

“Well, I just want to make sure she's not telling lies about my girls.”

“Really, Fred, I don't know what you're talking about,” I said as I turned to make my way toward Callie. She had left the refreshment area and stood now with Tom and Mollie. They studied photographs on a hinged bulletin board, unfolded like an accordion. Tom grabbed me in a bear hug.

“Missed you at dinner. And where's that no-good husband of yours? He's supposed to be here.”

Callie put her arm on my shoulder and answered for me. “I told you, Tom, Joe's working late.”

“So, he'll meet us at Friendly's?” Tom asked.

“I don't think so. You might have to do all the eating yourself this year,” I said.

“But you're coming with us, Beth, aren't you?”

“Let's see how I'm doing later.”

“You know what, guys?” Callie turned to Tom and Mollie. “You two look around a bit. I want a little time with Beth.” She steered me toward the refreshments. “How ’bout a cup of coffee?”

As we stood by the table, I told Callie the truth. Joe wouldn't come to the art fair, and it didn't matter that I wanted him to. We'd hardly spoken about it. We hardly spoke about anything these days. I sipped my coffee, then confessed out loud, “It feels like we're not even married anymore.” Tears worked up to my eyes.
Don't cry
, I told myself.
Not here. Not now.

“You want to go somewhere to talk? I can make myself scarce for a while. How ’bout your office?”

Two parents tried to trap me in conversation as Callie and I headed out of the cafeteria. “I'd love to stay and chat,” I told them, “but I've got to take care of something. I'll be back in a minute.”

“Wow. You're good,” Callie said as she pulled me through the crowd. “I could never shelve my emotions like that.”

In the hall, a student bumped me with his clarinet. “Sorry, Mrs. Maller. Aren't you gonna listen to us play?”

“We'll be right back,” Callie answered for both of us.

I didn't cry till we entered the counseling center, where I fumbled with my keys. Callie grabbed them and opened the door to my office just as Peter came by. “Mrs. Maller. Mrs. Harris.” He nodded at us. “Thought I heard someone in here. But the center's closed for the night. And Mrs. Harris, you're supposed to be at the art fair for the entire evening. Isn't that so?”

“Absolutely,” Callie said. “But I need masking tape, and Beth said she has a roll I can use.”

“Well, get it quickly then. I'll expect you both in the cafeteria in a minute.”

“Of course, Peter,” Callie said. “And I hope you're enjoying the show. The kids worked really hard this year.”

We laughed, Callie louder than I, when Peter left. “And you think
I'm
good, Cal? You're a pro.”

“You okay to go back now?”

“I guess we have no choice. Gorilla's orders. But I can't tell you enough how much it helps to know you're here.”

Callie socked my arm. “Enough with the thanks already. I told you, you never have to thank me for being your friend.”

A large group gathered around the concert band. Callie went back into the cafeteria. I stayed by the entrance waiting for a medley from
The Phantom of the Opera.
A tap on my arm startled me. “Hey, Mrs. Maller,” Zach whispered.

“Zach, it's good to see you. And I'm really moved by your drawing. Did your grandmother see it?”

“She did, and we've been looking for you. My grandma wants to meet you.”

“I'd like that. I'll wait over by the photo display while you track her down.”

I would have known Kate Stanish even if Zach hadn't escorted her. Perhaps it was the quickness with which she approached, or her smile that grew wider the closer she got. Without a word, she reached out and placed her hands on my shoulders. Her eyes found mine in a flash of recognition. We stood still for a moment, long enough for me to smell the spring flowers in her perfume. Then her arms were around me, and I felt—all at once—my mother and Callie and the second grade teacher who had hugged me every day after my mother died.

Peter walked by and looked at us. And I didn't care.

Chapter Fifteen

“W
haddaya mean you're not coming?” Tom said when I told him I wasn't going to Friendly's after the art fair. “I know you're gonna stay to help take down the show, so why aren't you coming with us?”

Callie smiled at me. “Who needs her, Tom? I've got great student helpers this year plus you and Mollie. We can do it in no time. And the faster we do, the sooner the hot fudge.”

By the time Kate and I got to the Athena Family Restaurant, all the booths were taken. It seemed as if half of Meadow Brook was there. The hostess offered us a table in the side room.

“Do you mind waiting, dear?” Kate asked me. “I'd rather have a booth. Unless you're pressed for time. Is your husband expecting you home soon?”

“No rush,” I said. “I'm on my own tonight.” What I didn't tell her was that I wasn't eager to get home. Lately, whenever Joe and I were in the same room, I itched to escape. He irritated me like a scratchy sweater. I needed a layer between us—I needed Danny.

Kate and I waited on a black bench, a remnant of the diner the new owners had tried to disguise. Now tapestries in pink and purple covered banquettes, Formica tables mimicked wood, and the Mozart Clarinet Quintet replaced hits from the ’60s and ’70s. But
the fluorescent lighting and mirrored walls reminded me of the Bay View Diner, where Joe had warned me about my job.

At the Athena that night, students seemed to compensate for their hushed voices at the art show, as if they had been carrying around sacks of volume that finally burst. Yet Kate spoke softly, her velvet voice filling the space between us. “Tell me about Danny,” she said while we waited. I let memories tumble through time: tennis and Little League and day camp; sleep-away and sleep-overs and school.

“Table'll be ready in just a few minutes,” the hostess said.

“And he made me laugh, Kate. More than anything, Danny made me laugh.”

“Yo, Mrs. Maller.” Fred held the door open for Tina and Jen. “What's happening, Mrs. M.?”

I stood as if Fred had issued a command. “Not a thing. And how are you, ladies? Didn't see you at the art fair. Fred said you had other things to do.”

“Yeah. Other things,” Tina answered. “We've got a life. Don't we, Jen?”

“Right,” Jen said to the floor.

Tina pulled two cigarettes from a pack and handed one to her sidekick. “Fred tells me you've been meeting with the snitchin’ bitch again, Mrs. M.”

“What are you talking about, Tina?”

Tina rolled her eyes, her lashes heavy with mascara. “Clue her in, Jen.”

“Oh, yeah.” Jen kept her head down and twirled the cigarette in her hand. “Umm, we hear you were at that art thingamajig with Liz Grant.”

I held Tina with my eyes. “Now, listen to me, both of you. I don't know what your problem is with Liz, but my conversations with her have nothing to do with you. Do you understand?”

“Yeah, sure,” Tina said. “We understand.”

Jen flicked bits of tobacco with her thumb. “Yeah, we hear you, Mrs. Maller. But if she says anything that gets us in trouble, well … she'll be sorry.”

“The only way you'll get in trouble, Jen, is if you
do
anything that gets you in trouble. So, have you done anything? Anything you want to tell me?”

Now Kate got up from the bench and wandered toward the hostess. I guessed she was eager to find out when our table would be ready, when we'd be able to pull ourselves away from these obnoxious, rude students.

Tina dangled the unlit cigarette from her lips, smeared in purply-brown. She planted hands on her hips. “Of course she hasn't, Mrs. M. We're not troublemakers. So, don't you think it's time you called off the guard?”

“Yeah,” Jen said. She looked at me then, her eyes cold and narrow. “Ms. Richardson still stays in the locker room. So, either the skinny bitch is talking about us or that lesbo gets her kicks watching us change.”

Fred smiled. “Lucky Richardson.”

“Enough! All of you! If you want to talk to me, then make an appointment at school. And if you talk to me this way there, you
will
be in trouble.” I walked over to Kate, standing by the cash register. The hostess told us our table was ready.

“Enjoy, Mrs. M.,” Fred called. I felt Tina's eyes burn into my back as Kate and I walked toward a booth in the rear.

“Hey, how come you didn't introduce us to your friend?” she called.

“Oh dear,” Kate said when we settled in. “Those girls are awful! Are they always like that?”

I folded my arms on the table. “Those two are tough,” I said softly. Kate reached over and put a hand on mine. I welcomed her touch, like Callie's pat on my back, a reminder I wasn't alone. At the same time, I hoped no one was watching. “Meadow Brook's changing.” I pulled my hand away, then was sorry I had.

“It seems all schools are, Beth.”

“There's just so much hostility in these kids.”

A waitress slapped down two heavy menus. “Coffee, ladies?”

“Decaf for me,” Kate answered.

“It's like there's an explosion building up.” I tugged at the thread of a thought as I looked at Kate. Her eyes smiled with encouragement. “And we need to defuse it before it goes off, but they won't let me get close enough to try. Thank God, there's no trench coat gang in Meadow Brook. Not like Columbine. Not yet, anyhow. But still, we need to do something about the anger in these kids before it's too late.”

The waitress brought coffee. I took a sip, welcoming the bitter taste.

“I think it's wonderful, Beth, how committed you are to helping kids. Especially now.” She picked up her cup—beige with a faded green rim. I noticed the braided gold band on her right hand and wondered if that had been her wedding ring, moved now to the lonely hand of widowhood.

“I actually worry about those girls, Tina and Jen. I don't think they have anyone to talk to.” I forced myself to stop.

“Go ahead, dear.”

“No. This isn't very professional. I shouldn't be telling you this.”

Kate reached for my hand again. “You know, I think we're going to be friends—very good friends—so you don't have to worry about what you tell me. Now, what is it you were saying about those girls?”

This time, I let her hand rest on mine. “They're so filled with rage. It's like they're about to plant a bomb, and nobody's gonna stop them.”

We took a break to order: a muffin for Kate; a bagel for me. Then I picked up my thought. “Zach's getting out just in time. He's a terrific kid, Kate. You've done a great job with him.”

“Thank you. And I'm sure you did—”

Laughter from the senior cheerleaders at a table near ours chopped her sentence. “Hey, what's the joke?” a boy called from across the room, where he sat with a group of sophomores.

“Get a life!” the girls shouted.

The boys shot straws, like arrows, toward them. Two landed on our table. I tucked them behind the ketchup.

“Perhaps you're right, dear. Maybe it
is
a good thing Zach's about to graduate. Though the thought of being all alone next year isn't very appealing. I've never lived in an empty house.”

I ate slowly, enjoying Kate's company, enjoying a conversation in which I didn't have to weigh my words. Kate talked about her husband, about Zach, about relatives who still lived in Australia and wanted her to visit. “I haven't gone back there since we moved to the States a lifetime ago, when I was ten.”

“That must have been so hard for you, moving to a new place so far away.”

“No. Actually, it was exciting. My mother's older brother was already here, settled with his family in New Jersey. And my mother was so excited about seeing him again and about all those things we'd do together: Sunday dinners and holiday gatherings. And I would have cousins here—her brother's two girls, not much older than I. I couldn't wait to meet them.” Kate's eyes got hazy, as if she were reliving that first meeting, watching family outings on the screen of her mind.

“So, it all worked out?”

“Not exactly.” Kate paused for a moment, sipping her coffee. “My mother got sick shortly after we arrived, and her brother wanted her hospitalized in Jersey, so he could see her, he said. He told my father he could arrange for the best care in a small hospital not far from his house. But my father said no. He wanted my mother in the city, where we could be with her. There was a big argument. And later, after my mother died—cancer, it was—I found out her brother never liked my father to begin with. And my cousins? Well, I saw
them only a handful of times after the funeral.” Kate sighed. “Families. They're hard to figure out sometimes. So … tell me about yours.”