“Oh.” Molly looked mystified.
Shaking her head, Karen sat down at her computer and checked her in-box. There were the usual press releases from various social service agencies and nonprofits interspersed with LOSE WEIGHT FAST and YOU MAY STILL FIND A DIVORCE ATTORNEY and DEAR MADAM I AM MR UGOCHUKWO FROM NIGERIA 8 MILLION U.S. DOLLARS HAS BEEN LEFT TO YOU BY A DISTANT RELATIVE–style spam. There was also a personal e-mail from Stuart Levy, the executive director of the Jesse James Foundation, which seemed odd and possibly ominous. Karen clicked on it.
What appeared next was an apologetic letter explaining that the foundation was removing its support from Hungry Kids in favor of a new satellite program in urban farming that had been launched by HK’s main—and far better endowed—rival, City Feeds. The news was a blow on several levels. Not only did the withdrawal mean a greatly reduced financial profile for Hungry Kids, but Karen’s continued employment was predicated on her earning a multiple of her salary. Without Jesse James on board, that multiple would be far harder to achieve. Which made Clay’s new patronage that much more important to her—even as she blamed him, at least in part, for the withdrawal.
She blamed herself as well. Maybe if I’d spent less time dancing to “Footloose” and more time buttering up the Jesse James automatons, Karen thought, disaster could have been averted. She also thought the key to solving the obesity epidemic in inner cities was not growing tomato plants in abandoned lots. What were people supposed to eat the other three seasons of the year? To her mind, it was one of those misguided help-people-help-themselves ideas that actually helped no one. But that was beside the point now…
To Karen’s further disappointment, there was no morning follow-up e-mail from Clay. Though there was a personal e-mail from Mia’s mother, Michelle. The subject heading was Ruby. Karen immediately assumed it was a reciprocal playdate invitation. Keen for a distraction from her work woes, she clicked on it. It read,
Karen, good morning. I’m sorry to have to bring this up with you, but Ruby has been pointing at Mia’s private parts in the schoolyard and yelling, “Mia has a wiener.” This has made Mia extremely uncomfortable. I would appreciate it if you would please discuss your daughter’s inappropriate behavior with her and ask her to stop. Thank you, Michelle
On first reading, Karen felt a giggle rise in her windpipe. Surely it was some kind of joke. Except it didn’t seem to be. Irritation followed—not only on her daughter’s behalf but also on her own. Didn’t all children find the topic of wieners and wee-wees endlessly fascinating? Didn’t all adults too? And why shouldn’t they? It was natural to be curious. And who was to say that the purported behavior had even occurred? Though even if Ruby really had pointed at Mia’s crotch and accused her of having male genitals, did it merit such a stern e-mail? They were still too young to understand why society insisted some parts be kept covered and others not. And if Michelle was that upset, she could have spoken to Karen in person rather than lodging the complaint as she had—formally, in writing, as if Ruby had committed a sex crime. It seemed suddenly clear that an ocean separated Karen and Michelle after all and that the intimacy they’d shared during Mia and Ruby’s playdate the week before—at least until the Chips Ahoy! had appeared—had been no more than a mirage.
It was also clear that Karen’s workday was off to an epically bad start.
Just then, her phone pinged with a text from Matt. How was the event last night?
Apparently a fiasco, Karen wrote back. Jesse James pulling funds from HK. Also, Ruby’s friend’s mother accusing Ruby of being sexual predator. Not kidding. Details tk.
Oh no and whhaaaaat? he replied.
And how was your dinner? she wrote back, reminded that her husband was the one adult in her life who really cared about her.
Inconclusive, he answered.
Even so, Karen was still hoping to hear from Clay and found herself checking her in-box at five-minute intervals throughout the day. When six o’clock arrived and he still hadn’t written, it confirmed her suspicion that their flirtation was a pointless distraction. It also shored up her resolve to keep their relationship professional.
That evening, over a dinner of buttered bow ties, organic chicken tenders sautéed with panko bread crumbs, and peeled slices of McIntosh apple—to date, Karen had chosen to ignore the implications of her daughter’s preference for all-white and beige dinner food—she attempted to address the Mia business with her. “So, you and Mia are still friends, right?” she said.
“Why?” asked Ruby.
“Because her mom says you’ve been saying stuff to her in the playground that she doesn’t like.”
“I was just kidding!”
“Sweetie, people call them private parts because they’re private. You can’t talk about other people’s. You know that, right? Or touch them.”
“We were just kidding around! I told her she had a penis, and she told me I had a vagina.”
Karen winced. She had never liked the word vagina and did her best to avoid all mention of it, especially with her husband and even, when possible, with her gynecologist. In college, the preferred term had been pussy. But now that word too seemed embarrassing and like a relic from the days when being a “bad girl” was considered a good thing, which had never made that much sense to Karen. “Well, even if it’s all just a joke, her mom doesn’t want you to do it anymore,” she said. “Mia feels embarrassed when you accuse her of having boy parts.”
“She didn’t seem embarrassed,” said Ruby.
“Well, her mom says she was.”
“I’m the one who should be embarrassed. I’m, like, the only person in my entire class who doesn’t have their own electronic device!”
“What?” said Karen.
“Yisabella and Destiny have their own iPhones. And a bunch of other kids have iPads. Even Mia has a Kindle. And I have nothing. It’s not fair.”
“Ruby—that can’t be true,” said Karen, mystified as to how the same children who received free lunch could possibly own expensive Apple products. What was she missing?
“It is true,” said Ruby.
“Well, I’m sorry, but those things cost a lot, and Daddy and I are not made of money,” said Karen, noting the irony of her making this argument when their family likely had sixteen times as much as the average Betts one. “Anyway,” she went on, keen to change the topic. “Tell me about school. Has the new visiting drama coach started?”
“We’re doing a play about slavery,” answered Ruby.
“Oh! Cool!” said Karen. “Who do you play?”
“I’m Sa’Ryah’s slave, but it’s so backward. Like, if this was the olden days, Sa’Ryah would be my slave and I would have been her master, ’cause I have light skin and she has dark. I told her that.”
“You told her that?” said Karen, aghast.
“Well, it’s true!” cried Ruby.