“I have no idea,” she said, smiling and shrugging her shoulders, “but I voted yes. It seemed to be what Mr. Beasley wanted.”
Wallis liked Mr. Beasley, the school principal. He looked more like an insurance salesman in his suits and hair-sprayed helmet hair. The kids begrudgingly liked him, even though he made them toe the line, because he was fair and was willing to make the occasional fool of himself by dressing up in an ape costume for the talent show or a clown costume when enough books had been read by the students. The parents gave him respect for running a good school on what was always a tight budget.
“How’s Paul?” Paul was her son, a new addition this year to Ned’s class and had become one of Ned’s best friends.
“Doing fine. Can’t wait till school’s over for the year, but he feels that way the day after Labor day.”
“And David? Did you two work it out?” David was the ex-husband who was always floating on the edge of Sharon and Paul’s life, not really participating, not really gone. He owned a software company, Whittaker Technology, which catered to manufacturing companies, large and small. Sharon was a receptionist at Phillip Morris headquarters and was barely making ends meet.
“Sort of. I was finally able to prove he cashed the insurance check from the dentist after, what, two years of haggling, so he coughed that up.”
Wallis knew she was making Sharon uncomfortable. The shy woman never liked talking about David or money and particularly the two subjects combined. But it always annoyed Wallis to notice Sharon’s old car pull up in front of the house, large patches of white primer where Sharon had tried to cover up peeling paint. Ned never had to watch for them if Sharon was driving the boys to get a Slurpee or drop them off at the soccer field. The car made so much noise he could hear it from his room and knew when to come running. Wallis always let Ned go with a faint feeling of apprehension, wondering if the car would make it down the road.
The last time Paul had spent the night he had bragged through most of dinner about his dad’s new Jeep with the custom package, leather seats, special rims. It took all of Wallis’ resolve to look happy about it and say, “How nice” to Paul’s open, smiling face.
“He wants to be proud of his dad, too,” Norman gently said later. “It can’t be easy on the little fellow. I know, I know, you’d like to cream the guy, but you can’t save them all, Wallis.”
Mr. Beasley left the stage and took a seat in the front row. Sharon pointed toward two seats along the side and they sat down just as the curtain opened and Ned and Paul’s teacher, Mrs. Ward stepped out. She was wearing her usual uniform of a sensible dress that started at her collar bone and traveled in a straight line only hinting at the idea of bumps, bulges or curves, before stopping at her ankles, hanging right above sensible leather shoes with a thick rubber sole. Her hair was kept in a salt and pepper style that was a tower of teased hair and pin curls and was probably the same style she had proudly worn when she had been in high school.
Wallis opened her mouth to say something else and boost Sharon’s confidence when the same father in the last row leaned forward and loudly hushed them. Wallis did her best blank, uninterested lawyer look and fixed her gaze on the stage instead. The show was starting and she’d probably said enough already anyway. Besides, the day had really rattled her.
The children got up and dutifully marched toward the stage, a few of the children trying to look at the seats to spot their parents. Wallis finally saw Ned and he was vainly scanning the seats with a worried look on his face. Wallis half-rose out of her seat to let him see her and his face broke into a grin as he walked onto the stage and took his place on the second row of the platform.
“Welcome parents,” said Mrs. Ward, a friendly-enough teacher who the children both loved and feared, “to the annual recorder concert.” She paused and Wallis could hear the familiar slurp, click over the speakers as Mrs. Ward briefly bit down on dentures before breathing deeply and starting again. “The children have all been working very diligently and are very excited to show you the benefits of all that hard work. We are going to present a medley of songs beginning with America the Beautiful and we ask that you hold all applause till the end.”