To: Josephine Garland Subject: Room Mom Dear Josephine (aka Miss Josie)— Thank you for a great first day of the first grade. Edie came home so excited and I know you had much to do with that. Thanks, too, for sending E’s tooth home safely. I’m sure the Tooth Fairy will also be grateful for your care.
I’m returning the volunteer form via Edie’s book bag tomorrow, but wanted to give you the heads-up that I’m putting my name in the hat for room mom. I feel certain that I could do a good job as your liaison to the other parents.
Either way, I look forward to meeting you face-to-face on Open House night. I’ve heard a lot of nice things about you (and your family) from Will. Small world, isn’t it?!
Best,
Andrea
“Interesting,” Gabe deadpans, putting my phone down on the bar in front of me. “What do you think?”
I love this about Gabe. He consistently asks what I think before he tells me what he thinks—the opposite of Meredith’s approach, and really most people’s.
“I’m not sure,” I say. “Maybe it’s a keep-your-friends-close-and-your-enemies-closer type thing?”
“Maybe,” he says. “But I’m not getting an ulterior-motive vibe here. Other than the obvious brownnose-the-teacher angle, I suppose.”
“What vibe are you getting?” I say, eager for his no-frills analysis.
“I’m kind of just getting a nice vibe, actually.”
I nod reluctantly. It was so much easier to hate Will’s wife than to deal with the possibility that she could actually be a likable person.
“Have you written her back?” he asks, sipping the draft beer that I also had waiting for him.
“Not yet.”
“But you will?”
“Yeah. I have to,” I say. “It’s policy to reply to all parent emails.”
“And you always follow policy,” he quips.
“I do, actually. At school, anyway…Think I should pick her for room mom?”
“What does room mom entail?”
“As Andrea so eloquently put it, she’d be the liaison to the other mothers,” I say, maximizing my sarcasm and exaggerating my French accent, though I’m not sure what point I’m making other than to charge her with using a pretentious noun.
“So throw her a bone,” Gabe says. “It would be a good-faith gesture.”
I make a face.
“Jeez, Jo. You really gotta relax about this Will thing. He’s ancient history.”
“I know,” I say, thinking that I’ve had at least a half dozen breakups since Will.
“In fact, I don’t think you ever really loved him,” Gabe says.
I’ve heard this theory of his before, and want to believe it, but never quite can, especially now that I know Will’s little girl. I think of the gap in her gum and feel a wistful pang that borders on actual pain.
“That’s ridiculous,” I say. “Of course I loved him.”
Gabe shrugs. “Your actions would indicate otherwise. You sabotaged that relationship.”
“Did not,” I say, thinking that he, of all people, knew that it was a lot more complicated than that.
“Did, too,” he says. “And now look at you.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re stuck eating pork sliders with me,” he says, the king of self-deprecation.
“What’s wrong with pork sliders?” I say with a smile, already in a better mood.
—
GABE HAS BEEN my best guy friend for a long time now. It’s always the way I refer to him, although I don’t know why I include the gender qualifier when he’s really just my straight-up best friend. He grew up in Atlanta, too, but went to North Atlanta High after getting kicked out of Lovett for tapping into the computer systems and changing his friends’ grades (even though he did not need to change his own grades). So aside from some attenuated social overlap, we really didn’t know each other until my final year at the University of Georgia, just after Daniel died. Gabe came to the funeral, along with his whole family, but that alone didn’t stand out to me, as literally hundreds turned out for the service and the whole thing was a blur anyway. It was the handwritten note he sent me later that really registered. He didn’t say anything that profound, just how sorry he was, and that he had always looked up to my brother “in pretty much all respects.” A lot of people did—Daniel was that kind of all-around great guy—but the fact that Gabe actually took the time to spell out his admiration meant a lot. So when I saw him a few weeks later at East West Bistro in Athens, I went up to him and thanked him.