“Yeah.”
“He’s getting kicked out of his ground-floor apartment after forty fucking years. I mean, the guy fucking grew up there! But his mom died a few years ago, and she was the only family he had. And now this scumbag developer has come in and is planning to turn it into a single-family, state-of-the-art ‘passive house’”—Matt made quote marks in the air—“whatever the fuck that is. Anyway, I offered to represent him for free in housing court. We were out on his stoop talking strategy.”
“Well, that was nice of you,” said Karen, feeling torn. On the one hand, she admired her husband for taking up cases he didn’t need to take up. She also felt sorry for Miguel, who had always been friendly to her and Ruby, sometimes making funny noises with his cheek and thumb for Ruby’s amusement as they walked by. Moreover, the loss of Miguel would undoubtedly make the neighborhood a tiny bit less diverse and a tiny bit more like a community with invisible gates. It wasn’t hard to imagine the guy ending up on the street either.
On the other hand, she couldn’t help but feel that Matt’s time might be just as well spent paying attention to his wife and daughter as it was helping out a neighbor. There was also the fact that Karen was terrified of Miguel’s pit bull, who had a thick black ring around one eye, giving him the appearance of a canine pirate. Then there was the deafening salsa he played at all hours of the day and night, apparently unaware that others might not enjoy his music as much as he did. Karen also secretly considered the building as it existed now to be a blight on the block, with its plastic-sheathed windows and chipping stucco. The fetid garbage smell that emanated from the front yard was another matter, as was the Dominican flag that Miguel flew out his window, the sight of which Karen found difficult to reconcile with her interior-decorating taste. Not that she was prepared to admit any of this to her husband. “But if the building is already sold,” she said, “I doubt there’s much you or anyone else can do. I’m sure Miguel didn’t have a lease.”
“He didn’t have a lease, but he’s always paid his rent,” said Matt. “And—most important—he’s a human being who deserves a roof over his head.”
“Well, I feel bad for the guy,” said Karen. “But in all honesty, I won’t miss his dog. I actually cross the street when it comes near me.”
“Jesus! Whose side are you on?” cried Matt.
“I’m on Miguel’s side!” replied Karen. “But I also think pit bulls are scary. They’re illegal in England, you know.”
“Pit bulls aren’t even a real breed of dog—look it up. It’s just a blanket term. But whatever.” Matt grimaced. “So, what did you do today?”
As generic and open-ended as the question was, it still irked Karen. “You mean in addition to getting our daughter fed, bathed, and to sleep? Well, I made a hundred grand for the organization at lunch.”
“Wow, good job.”
“Yeah, I had lunch with a college acquaintance—this preppy guy named Clay Phipps who’s made a gazillion dollars running some hedge fund. He actually wrote a check on the spot.”
“Nice tax write-off, I guess. Or at least it would be if he paid taxes, which he probably doesn’t, being a hedgie and all.”
“Do you have to be so cynical?”
“You probably wouldn’t like me if I wasn’t.” Matt smiled.
“Whatever you say.” Karen smiled back. “Anyway, he invited the three of us out to visit him and his family next summer at his waterfront mansion.” Karen didn’t actually know for a fact that the island house was on the waterfront, but she assumed so. She also assumed her husband would reject the invitation outright. But she needed to go through the motions of asking him so she could feel frustrated and resentful but also admire his steadfastness to his principles.
“Sorry—I’ll leave the social climbing to you,” said Matt, right on cue.
“So you’d rather spend the entire summer stuck in the city,” said Karen, “sweltering to death and going to ‘family swim’ at the overchlorinated YMCA pool than get wined and dined in some gorgeous house with ocean breezes while Ruby plays in an actual pool that doesn’t require shower shoes when you walk around it because there aren’t pubic hairs everywhere you look?”
“I thought your whole thing was that you hated vacations.”
“Maybe I do, and maybe I don’t.”
“Karen, I don’t know this guy from Adam,” Matt continued. “What am I going to do there? Lie in a lounger humming to myself while the two of you talk about what happened to everyone in your freshman dorm?”
“Fine,” she said, still playing the martyr even though she had to admit that her husband had a point. “You’re not invited. Okay? Forget I ever said anything. It’s better to be hot and bothered and have integrity than to actually enjoy the summer. Because life is long.”
Matt rolled his eyes and sighed. “Speaking of shower shoes, I’m going to shower, if you don’t mind.”
“Why would I mind?”
After he disappeared, Karen sat down on the sofa with her laptop and began composing a message to Maeve’s mother, Laura. Just as she was typing the sentence I hope Maeve is doing okay, an e-mail from Laura herself uncannily flashed across Karen’s screen. On further inspection, she determined it was a group e-mail sent to all the parents in Ruby’s third-grade class. Karen quickly scanned the message. It read:
Dear Room 303 Parents,
As some of you know, our daughter, Maeve, was injured Friday morning during the community-unit celebration. Evan and I had an early-morning work commitment and were unable to attend. But we’ve pieced together what happened by speaking to various people who were there at the time. We also saw firsthand the injuries suffered by our daughter, who has a fractured septum, had to spend a full day in the hospital, and is now suffering from PTSD.
This is not the first time that Jayyden Price has bullied our daughter. What happened on Friday was part of a long-standing pattern that began in second grade and that includes verbal taunts and, in at least one case prior to Friday’s incident, physical violence. During recess last spring, he kicked Maeve in the shin, causing severe bruising.
We have felt privileged to be part of a school community that prioritizes diversity. But our daughter’s physical safety trumps all else. Principal Chambers does not seem to agree. Here is a transcript of our meeting with her yesterday, which my husband, Evan, recorded:
Evan: We don’t feel safe having our daughter in the same class as this child [Jayyden Price].
Ms. Chambers: I can assure you that [Jayyden] is receiving all the special services this school offers. He meets with our school psychologist three days a week, and since the incident, he has been banned from recess. There is no excuse for what he did to your daughter, but I ask you to appreciate that he has an unstable family situation. And I understand that your daughter can be provocative.