When Hunter returns, his hair all combed back and spit-shined, I send Nick Baton out and invite Hunter back for a snack.
It’s all going as planned until a severely braided Nancy Fancy gets back from her photo shoot with Miss Ward in tow. By this time eight of the sixteen kids are covered in chocolate. It’s smeared on their faces, in their hair, on their clothes. Miss Ward walks in and just stares, her mouth gaping. I decide to just keep it moving.
“Nancy, come on back and have a snack. Lulu, it’s your turn to go next door.”
As Lulu walks out, Miss Ward is still standing in the doorway, taking in the splendor of my work in progress. She waits a good minute before she slowly walks to the back of the room, grabs a brownie with her perfectly manicured hands, and stuffs it in her mouth.
“Good brownies, Jenny.” She walks back to her desk, licking her fingers.
I’m a little shocked. I never thought I’d have an ally in Miss Ward. Maybe Asami is getting on her nerves, too.
By the time Isabel Zalis comes back for her brownie, the class looks pretty comical. All the girls’ hair has been put into some sort of braid, and all the boys have had their hair wet-combed out of their face. They have all done a stellar job with the brownies. Even poor Suni Chang, who did her best to stay neat, ended up with brownie on her nose. It looks as though someone has filled a room with 1930s-style gangsters and Pippi Longstockings and splattered mud all over them. The one exception is, of course, Graydon Cobb, whose hair is too short to grease back and who didn’t have a brownie. Weirdly, it works. This is going to be one cute class photo.
* * *
To: Miss Ward’s Class
From AChang
Subject: Class photos
Date: Jan. 19
Dear Kindergarten Parents,
I take full responsibility for yesterday’s class picture fiasco. I assure you that under my watch the children were spic-and-span and their individual photos will look very sharp. However, because of a certain parent’s unfortunate choice of snack, the class picture turned into a dog’s breakfast. I have been assured, by the photographer, that it is “quite cute,” especially since Miss Ward covered herself in chocolate to blend in with the class. We will see. Perhaps we can all pitch in and hire the photographer to come and reshoot the class picture.
Onward.
Asami Chang
To: AChang
From: SLewicki
Subject: Class photos
Date: Jan. 19
Hi,
I will be out of the office until January 31.
Thanks,
Sasha
To: AChang
From: SCobb
Subject: Class photos
Date: Jan. 19
Asami,
What snack? Was Graydon given chocolate? Do I have to give you his list of allergies again?
Shirleen
To: AChang
From: AGordon
Subject: Class photos
Date: Jan. 19
Asami,
I believe I can speak for most of the mothers of girls when I say the snack was the least offensive thing that happened yesterday. When I picked Lulu up, she was very upset that you braided her hair even though we had just washed and blown it out for picture day. She told me all the girls felt the same way. What were you thinking? When you sent us the emails about bathing our children and telling us you would be standing by to do hair, I thought you were kidding. I would agree to put in money for a reshoot, but only so we could get rid of the braids.
Ali
* * *
14
I’m a good daughter. At least, that’s what I tell myself as I cross the bridge into Kansas City, Kansas, to find organic prunes for my mother. There is only one grocery store within a twenty-mile radius that carries the kind she likes. Apparently they act as a laxative for my dad, who, according to my mother, “can’t get the train out of the tunnel.” She is more than capable of driving to get them herself, but honest to God, I don’t think she wants to spend the gas money. She’s getting more like my grandmother every day.
It’s actually a splendid day for a little road trip. It’s mid-February—the thirteenth, to be exact. It’s still cold, but the roads are dry and the sun is shining.
God, I love my KCK—that’s Kansas City, Kansas, for those of you not from the Wheat State. It’s where I grew up and what I know best. I remember when I was a kid my dad would take me and my friends up to Sauer Castle at night and scare the crap out of us with goofy stories that seemed so scary at the time. He’d talk about a guy with a crazy cat who lived in the castle and wasn’t allowed out; then he’d pretend to see the guy in the window. We would all scream and laugh at the same time.
But now we live in Overland Park, Kansas, essentially a suburb of Kansas City, Missouri, which is generally known as Kansas City. The two KCs are spitting distance from each other, but sometimes I feel like a traitor for moving across the bridge.
Max is spending the day at the store with Ron, so I have a little extra time on my hands. Plus the place with the magic prunes is right beside this really cool coffee shop, called Grab a Java, that I love and hardly ever get a chance to go to. It’s the kind of place where bearded lumber-sexuals and their female counterparts hang out. I feel hip just walking in there. It was the first place I ever ate avocado toast. I consider texting Don to see if he wants to meet me there, you know, for coffee, but ever since my conversation with Nina I have been trying not to instigate anything. Now I’m just a reactor.
I’m feeling pretty good about myself these days. The fallout from Brownie-gate was almost nonexistent. My sabotage efforts, though not in vain, turned out to be unnecessary. Asami took almost all the heat because of the hair debacle. And once again, as predicted by me, the chocolate-smudged class photo was absolutely adorable.
Physically, I’m feeling great. I’m at peak performance level for a woman of my age and commitment to exercise. That’s what Garth tells me, anyway. I’ve cut back on my wine since January and plan to stay semidry until after the mud run. It’s not like I have a drinking problem, but I am trying to eat and drink clean to help make my body a more efficient machine. My only indulgence is one cup of coffee a day, which is why I’m humming Katy Perry’s “Roar” when I pull into the parking lot of Rupert’s Fine Foods. I can already smell the Grab a Java brewing.
After picking up a shitload of prunes, some Ezekiel bread, coconut water, and kale, I head next door craving the double breve I’m going to revel in. As I’m walking, some yelling down the street grabs my attention. I look toward the sound and about fifty yards away are two women, a blonde and a brunette, standing beside a black SUV yelling at each other. The blonde is dressed all in black and the other seems to have a white jacket on.
I’m not much of a rubbernecker, but for some reason I’m intrigued. The words aren’t clear, but both women seem to be giving as good as they get. Then, much to my surprise, the brunette hauls off and slaps the blonde across the face and boy it’s a resounding smack. What can I say? We grow our women tough here in KCK!