25.
The kindergarten mothers gathered in a ragged, giggly line at the start line of their race. The sunlight reflected off their sunglasses. The sky was a giant blue shell. The sea glinted sapphire on the horizon. Jane smiled at the other mothers. The other mothers smiled back at her. It was all very nice. Very sociable. “I’m sure it’s all in your head,” Jane’s mother had told her. “Everyone will have forgotten that silly mix-up on orientation day.”
Jane had been trying so hard to fit into the school community. She did canteen duty every two weeks. Every Monday morning she and another parent volunteer helped out Miss Barnes by listening to the children practice their reading. She made polite chitchat at drop-off and pickup. She invited children over for playdates.
But Jane still felt that something was not right. It was there in the slight turn of a head, the smiles that didn’t reach the eyes, the gentle waft of judgment.
This was not a big deal, she kept telling herself. This was little stuff. There was no need for the sense of dread. This world of lunch boxes and library bags, grazed knees and grubby little faces, was in no way connected to the ugliness of that warm spring night and the bright downlight like a staring eye in the ceiling, the pressure on her throat, the whispered words worming their way into her brain. Stop thinking about it. Stop thinking about it.
Now Jane waved at Ziggy, who was sitting on the bleachers near the sidelines with the kindergarten kids under the watchful eye of Miss Barnes.
“You know I’m not going to win, right?” she’d said to him this morning at breakfast. Some of these mothers had personal trainers. One of them was a personal trainer.
“On your marks, mums!” said Jonathan, the nice stay-at-home dad who had gone with them to Disney On Ice.
“How many meters is this, anyway?” said Harper.
“That finish line looks like it’s a long way away,” said Gabrielle. “Let’s all go have coffee instead.”
“Is that Renata and Celeste holding the finishing tape?” said Samantha. “How did they get out of this?”
“I think Renata said that she—”
“Renata has shin splints,” interrupted Harper. “Very painful apparently.”
“We should all stretch, girls,” said Bonnie, who was dressed like she was about to teach a yoga class, a yellow singlet top sliding off one shoulder as she languidly lifted one ankle and pulled it up behind her leg.
“Oh, by the way, Jess?” said Audrey or Andrea. Jane could never remember her name. She stepped right up close to Jane and spoke in a low, confidential voice, as if she were about to reveal a deep, dark secret. Jane had gotten used to it by now. The other day she stepped up close, lowered her voice and said, “Is it library day today?”
“It’s Jane,” said Jane. (She could hardly be offended.)
“Sorry,” said Andrea or Audrey. “Listen. Are you for or against?”
“For or against what?” said Jane.
“Ladies!” cried Jonathan.
“Cupcakes,” said Audrey or Andrea. “For or against?”
“She’s for,” said Madeline. “Fun police.”
“Madeline, let her speak for herself,” said Audrey or Andrea. “She looks very health-conscious to me.”
Madeline rolled her eyes.
“Um, well, I like cupcakes?” said Jane.
“We’re doing a petition to ban parents from sending in cupcakes for the whole class on their kids’ birthdays,” said Andrea or Audrey. “There’s an obesity crisis, and every second day the children are having sugary treats.”
“What I don’t get is why this school is so obsessed with petitions,” said Madeline irritably. “It’s so adversarial. Why can’t you just make a suggestion?”
“Ladies, please!” Jonathan held up his starter gun.
“Where’s Jackie today, Jonathan?” asked Gabrielle. The mothers were all mildly obsessed with Jonathan’s wife, ever since she’d been interviewed on the business segment of the evening news a few nights back, sounding terrifyingly precise and clever about a corporate takeover and putting the journalist in his place. Also, Jonathan was very good-looking in a George Clooney–esque way, so constant references to his wife were necessary to show that they hadn’t noticed this and weren’t flirting with him.
“She’s in Melbourne,” said Jonathan. “Stop talking to me. On your marks!”
The women moved to the start line.
“Bonnie looks so professional,” commented Samantha as Bonnie crouched down into a starting position.
“I hardly ever run these days,” said Bonnie. “It’s so violent on the joints.”
Jane saw Madeline glance over at Bonnie and dig the toe of her sneaker firmly into the grass.
“Enough with the chitchat, ladies!” roared Jonathan.
“I love it when you’re masterful, Jonathan,” said Samantha.
“Get set!”
“This is quite nerve-racking,” said Audrey or Andrea to Jane. “How do the poor kids cope with the—”
The gun cracked.
Thea: I do have my own ideas about what might have happened but I’d rather not speak ill of the dead. As I say to my four daughters, “If you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all.”