20 McKenna
McKenna
It’s only the second time I’ve been in Kathleen’s office. The first was the day I signed my employment contract. I remember
being so impressed by the setting then—the wide double doors, a gleaming executive desk, walls lined with plaques declaring
various types of excellence. That was only a couple of months ago, but it feels so much longer. Now all the pomp in here just
strikes me as showy and obnoxious, a way to impress people who base judgments on all the wrong metrics.
Kathleen is sitting across from me in the same black trouser shorts and green polo as usual, but instead of her usual chipper
disposition, she looks contrite, maybe even ashamed.
“You have to understand,” she says as she twirls a shiny pen between her fingers. “Country clubs are not the same as other
places. Each member here actually owns a piece of the pie, and because of that, we have to listen to them. I hoped people
would feel proud about being part of something that gave back to the community. But that scene with the kids the other day . . .”
she trails off.
As I wait for her to continue, rebuttals swirl inside my head.
Yes, the kids made a scene, but it’s a recreational swimming pool, for god’s sake!
She just keeps spinning that pen in her hands, and I finally realize she’s done talking.
I can’t let this be the end of it. My special-needs kids deserve so much more than the sentence fragments she’s offering.
“Any children in a pool could get out of control and make a scene,” I start. “Kids get wild. It’s not just because they have
autism. And even if it is, isn’t that all the more reason to be a little generous with them?”
She leans forward, ready to hound her point. “People at the club don’t even want to see cell phone usage in the buildings.
They come here to relax, to have peace and quiet. Not to provide a space for charity. It’s bad enough that our wage dispute
with the maintenance workers made the paper, and now everyone’s worrying about the club’s reputation. I’m sorry, McKenna.
I thought it was a beautiful thing you were doing, but it didn’t work out. This is nonnegotiable, and you have to let it go.”
The kids are going to be so disappointed.
I could probably continue the lessons at the Y, but the whole point was to have them outdoors during the summer and let them
feel like typical kids. I realize with a start that I’m more upset for what the kids are losing than I am for myself. Obviously,
this is going to be a problem for my service hours, but right now I’m focused on the six beginner swimmers whose lessons are
being stolen out from under them.
“I don’t understand why you can’t stand up for them. The kids need this.” I’ve already said some version of this several times,
but I’m not ready to give up. I’m irate thinking about these people who have so much good fortune and are unwilling to share
any of it.
“I’m sorry, McKenna,” Kathleen says again. “The answer is final.” When I don’t make any move to leave, she says, “I have to head to the back lawn now. Do me a favor and close the door behind you when you go.” And then she leaves me there, fuming in her fancy office all by myself.
I have the urge to swing my arm across her desk and sweep everything on it to the floor, just like they do in the movies.
But that would only get me fired, and it wouldn’t do anything to help my Mighty Marlins. I should probably text Karyn at the
Y and let her know the lessons are indeed being discontinued, but I’m so full of rage. Instead, I just huff out of my chair
and head back to the parking lot, where I plan to sit in my car and stew until it’s time for the mini-campers to show up.
As I reach the main door, I see that woman, Christine Thomaston—the one who was whispering with her friend at the pool the
other day—approaching the entry to the club from outside. Even with the morning glare behind her, I can make out the Bottega
Veneta logo on the waist of her lemon-yellow tennis dress. I never would have recognized something like that before starting
at Hollyhock, but I’ve learned a lot about what’s important to these people in my time here. The dress happens to be the same
color as the swim caps the UVM swim team wears, and it feels fitting that the woman is dressed like one of our biggest rivals.
Looking at her now, I see so much red that I can barely keep going.
But I push open the heavy glass door and close the remaining distance between us.
“You!” I say the word like the insult I mean it to be. “What kind of entitled, selfish witch do you have to be?”
She stops on the steps and rears back. “I’m sorry, do I know you?” she asks, then quickly glances around, most likely embarrassed to have her ass handed to her in public. Only the valet guys are outside, across the driveway loop, and they’re busy arranging car keys on their board.
“Maybe not,” I answer, seething. “But I know you. You’re the person who couldn’t put up with special-needs kids infiltrating
your precious country club pool for a measly thirty minutes a day. The person who couldn’t fathom that when people are vulnerable,
you ought to cut them some slack. You should be ashamed of yourself.”
Before I can say more, Christine’s eyes dart behind me, and I turn to see Ainsley Lowell, Eloise’s mom, coming toward us from
the interior of the clubhouse. She must have just finished the early Pilates class.
As she steps outside, she looks from me to Christine. “McKenna, what’s going on?”
Christine answers first, her pert chin lifting toward the sky as she speaks. “I’m getting told off by a member of the swim
staff, but I haven’t the slightest inkling as to why.”
The two valet guys, whose names I can’t remember, have noticed the tense situation and are now watching us. A few other older
women are walking our way from their cars, and I’m sure they’ll also absorb every word I’m about to spew. I’m too amped up
to care.
Turning to Ainsley, I say, “Maybe it’s you I should be telling off.”
“Me?” She puts a hand to her chest, and her eyes go wide like a baby deer. “What in the world for?”
“You told me yourself you thought it was great what the club was doing. How could you tell Kathleen to shut down the special-needs swimming?”
I see the understanding as it dawns on her face.
“That didn’t come from me, McKenna,” she says, “but I have to say that after what I witnessed at the pool the other morning,
I agree with the decision.”
“Agree with it?” Spittle flies from my lips, and I realize I’ve shouted my response.
One of the valet guys across the way lifts his walkie-talkie and starts speaking into it, his words too far away for me to
hear. But his eyes don’t stray from me.
“People pay a lot of money to belong here,” Ainsley says. “We bring our families, our children, for a safe, peaceful environment
where they can enjoy the summer. Those kids the other day were out of control. Just because nobody got hurt that morning doesn’t
mean someone wouldn’t be hurt the next time.”
“Hurt?” I nearly shriek. “Nobody wanted to hurt anyone else!”
She’s infuriatingly calm as she responds. “Of course not, but that doesn’t mean it couldn’t happen.”
Before I can respond, Kathleen comes hurrying outside.
“McKenna, what’s happening here?”
I don’t know how to answer without pissing her off, but Ainsley’s friend Christine saves me the trouble.
“This staff member is telling us how to run our club,” she says. “Apparently we should be using our hard-earned money to fund
that circus she created out back last week, with kids running around like animals in every direction. Our membership fees
aren’t charitable donations. That’s not what we joined for.”
“Circus!” I scream at her. “Animals?! Those were children. How can you talk about them like that? You know what?” I point a finger at her chest, too enraged to care about the consequences. “You’re the animal!”
“McKenna, that’s enough!” Kathleen commands, stepping closer.
“It’s not enough!” I shout back. “They have everything, these people. The whole system is rigged in their favor. They have
their perfect little families and their fancy purses that cost thousands of dollars.” I reach for the white leather purse
hanging from Christine’s shoulder so I can hold up the damning evidence. But I grab it too forcefully, and she loses her balance
on the steps. Before I can do anything to steady her, she’s veering to the side and falling down the three steps from the
platform where we’ve been arguing. She lands on the gravel at the bottom with a hard thunk.
Everyone is silent for a split second, and then Christine screams.
“My ankle! You broke my ankle!”
The valet guys come running toward us from across the way, one of them back on the walkie-talkie.
“Oh my god.” The words rush out of me as I realize what I’ve done. “I didn’t mean to. I’m so sorry!” I start toward her to
help lift her off the ground, but Kathleen grabs my arm.
“McKenna, no! Go to my office and wait there.” Suddenly, people are appearing from all different directions, rushing toward
the woman on the ground. When I hesitate, Kathleen looks back at me with forceful eyes. “Now!”
Nearly forty-five minutes pass before Kathleen returns to her office. All the while, I’m pacing the floor, chewing on my fingernails. Mini-camp will have started by now, and I’m supposed to be at the pool, but I don’t want to risk going out there.
Finally, Kathleen comes marching in, and she wastes no time doing what I knew was coming.
“McKenna, you’re fired. Please collect any belongings you have at the club and leave the property.” I’ve never heard her voice
so cold.
“Fired? No, no, no, you can’t fire me. Please, Kathleen. I need this job.”
“You need to go.” She’s standing by the door, her arms crossed across her polo shirt like a bouncer booting me from a club.
“Please, I need this money.” I feel the tears spilling onto my cheeks. “I’ll do anything. I can’t, please, you have to understand—”
“McKenna!” She stops me. “You’re lucky Mrs. Thomaston’s not going to file assault charges.”
“Assault? But I didn’t knock her down on purpose. You saw it was an accident!”
“It doesn’t matter. You touched her on purpose. Everyone saw you initiate the contact. Luckily her ankle seems to be okay,
so she’s agreed to let it go. So long as you never step foot at Hollyhock again.”
“Never come back?” I struggle to process what she’s saying.
“Go home, McKenna,” she says, her voice a little gentler. “It sounds like you’ve got a lot to figure out.”
And then it really hits me how badly I’ve screwed up.
Somehow I thought I could get away with telling off a couple of club members.
I thought Kathleen would come in and yell at me, make me sweat for my sins, but then give in to my pleas.
I should have realized how easily replaceable I am to the people here, just another college kid anxious to make a buck.
It’s not the same as when I used to get in trouble with one coach or another—situations where I was always forgiven because no one else swam as fast as me.
When it comes to eager employees, there are plenty of us out there, many of whom are less of a hassle to deal with.
Thanks to my inability to control myself, I’m going to be living in a world full of problems.