Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Jamie
I’ve never felt more exposed in my life. I’ve sat in my car parked in this exact same spot hundreds of times before, but today, I feel like all eyes are on me. I’m probably just being paranoid. This thing with Connor has me sure every person I encounter is judging me.
That’s crazy, though. What is that thing people always say? Dance like no one is looking because they’re not? Is that it? I can’t remember, but I’m sure that axiom is more right than wrong. People have their own things going on. Why would they care to focus on me?
Anyway, I’m sure this whole thing is about to die down. It’s been nearly four days, after all. Yesterday was likely the climax of the insanity. From now on, things will calm down.
Even as I think that, I know better. The police are going to find out that was Connor’s gun that killed Bryan. Once they realize that, it’s only a matter of time before they arrest him.
A slight drizzle begins to fall as I sit outside the gym waiting for the girls, so thankfully, I have a justification for not walking over to stand with the other mothers today.
I can see them from where I’m parked, though, and each one of them has looked over at me more than once.
Every time I waved, and not once did anyone wave back.
Instead, they turned up their noses and ignored me.
To think that I considered these people my friends. Guess I was wrong on that call. Friends stand by you in times of trouble. After all the hours I’ve spent with these women, someone I know for barely a week turns out to be a truer friend than any of these people.
Some might think me stupid for believing these women were my friends.
I guess it was foolish. All we have in common are our daughters and their love of gymnastics.
Still, I thought we would always be civil to one another.
How many times have I taken care packages to their homes when I heard they were sick?
How many times have I welcomed them and their daughters to my home?
More than I want to count and look what being nice got me.
Being practically shunned for some rumor about my husband that hasn’t even been shown to be true.
I can handle it. It hurts, but I’ll survive. It’s my daughters who don’t understand why other children are saying cruel things about their father and why their parents aren’t kind to them like they used to be.
The rain hitting my windshield becomes heavier, and the mothers all run for cover to avoid getting wet.
It’s not much, but I’ll take that tiny bit of satisfaction from seeing them scurry into the building so their perfectly coiffed hair doesn’t get ruined.
I see Jasmine Rey didn’t make it in time, so that lovely three hundred dollar hairdo she loves to brag about looks like a wet rat on top of her head.
A song I haven’t heard in nearly fifteen years comes on, so I turn it up and close my eyes. Memories of my freshman year in college come back to me, and I can’t stop myself from remembering the night I met Connor.
It was a warm spring night, and my sorority sisters and I were celebrating passing all our finals.
I was going to be spending the summer in town to take a social psychology class I needed for my minor.
My parents had agreed to pay to let me stay at school for summer courses if and only if I earned a B in every one of my spring semester classes.
I was sure I’d aced all my finals, but the only one I absolutely needed to pass with at least an eighty was my statistics class.
Never terribly good with numbers, that single course had threatened every plan I had made, but I crammed for that test for over a week, ignoring everything but classes to study day and night.
My mind quickly switches to my friends in the sorority and where they all are now.
We all swore we’d keep in touch and never forget one another, but those promises fell by the wayside when real life got in the way.
Marriages to our spouses, births of our children, careers, and a million other things conspired to make us strangers.
I thought I’d be best friends with those girls forever. How long has it been since I spoke to anyone from college? I’ve been out of school for over a decade, and I can’t remember the last time I talked with any of my sorority sisters.
Sad about that, I try to enjoy the song since it was popular back when Connor and I first got together.
He didn’t attend the same college as I did, but that night he was in the neighborhood near the sorority house for a party at one of the fraternities.
He got bored and wandered out into the street, and a car nearly ran him over.
Drunk with his reaction time slowed, he could have been killed by that driver, but he somehow stumbled out of the way, falling to the ground next to my friends and me on the sidewalk.
It's not a wonderful story of how we met. It’s certainly no meet cute. He was drunk, and I had enjoyed a few beers before leaving the house myself, but those were different times. I’ll never forget the first thing he said to me.
“Any chance you’ve got a smoke?” he said with a devil-may-care smile as he looked up at me from where he lay on the sidewalk. “I figure since I just cheated death that I should at least do something to celebrate.”
I told him no since I didn’t smoke, and when my friends urged me to keep walking since we were late to the frat party already, I stayed with him. I told myself I was worried he might mistakenly walk into the street again and get hurt, but the truth was Connor had a way about him that charmed me.
Maybe it was a type of meet cute after all.
He likes to say it was a typical middle class couple meeting, which sounds much less interesting than the actual story, but that’s Connor. He doesn’t like to romanticize anything. He likes to say, “The plain truth is the best, Jamie. Anything else is just a lie.”
I’ve always thought of my husband as a truthful man. In fact, until recently, I would have said he was a man who wouldn’t tell a lie about anything.
These past few days have made me question that claim. What really happened up on that path? I don’t understand why he took a gun in the first place, but why did he take it out and let Bryan grab a hold of it? None of that sounds like Connor.
I see the first girls coming out the front doors of the gym and looking around through the downpour for their mothers’ cars.
My girls aren’t out yet, so I hang back and don’t get in the pick up line.
One by one, I see my daughters’ teammates leave while I wait for Cassandra and Danielle.
The coach must have asked them to stay. I hope all this terrible nonsense with Connor isn’t affecting their gymnastics.
They were so thrilled to have made the team.
That was just two weeks ago. How quickly life changes.
When all the cars leave, I see Vanessa’s daughter standing alone with no sign of her mother.
I start my car and drive up to the front of the building before lowering the passenger side window.
Allie sees me but doesn’t smile or wave, so I call out, “Honey, do you need a ride? I’m happy to take you home as soon as the girls come out. ”
She turns to face me, and I instantly see she looks uneasy. Slowly, the rain begins to slow down, so she walks over to the car and leans in.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Jennings, but I’m not supposed to talk to you.”
I know the reason why, but still I have to ask. “Why?”
She hangs her head and in a low voice says, “My mother says I can’t. I’m sorry.”
“Okay. Hurry back under the awning so you don’t get wet, honey.”
I sound chipper as I say that, but inside, I’m crushed. If she’s being like this with an adult, I have no doubt she wasn’t any friendlier to my girls. My heart feels like it’s in a vice someone twists tighter and tighter when I think about them being shunned.
A car pulls up behind me, and I look in the rearview mirror to see Vanessa Dennis behind the wheel. She doesn’t wave or smile. She simply gives me a look that says she doesn’t like me anymore.
I look away, unable to deal with the rejection from the one person who has the power to help. I thought talking to her would stave off any repercussions from what’s happening with Connor. I guess I was wrong.
As she drives past my car, I can feel her stare. It’s ugly and hateful, but I keep my gaze focused on the touchscreen that says a song from Madonna is playing on the radio. I wouldn’t know. I can’t hear anything right now but my heartbeat in my ears.
Finally, I look up when I know she’s gone and see my daughters slowly walking out of the building. Their expressions tell me they experienced the same thing I just did, and once again, my heart clenches in my chest.
I paste a smile on my face and honk the horn.
They run over to the car, and for a second, I let myself believe I was misreading what I was seeing.
Maybe things weren’t as bad as I’m making them out to be.
True, kids can be cruel, but gymnastics is a team sport, so they all have to work together to do their best.
Cassandra and Danielle pile into the back seat of my car and slam the door shut. Ordinarily, they talk a million miles a minute about school and practice. I can barely keep up on most days.
Today is not like that. They sit silently not even speaking to one another. I don’t know what happened at practice, and I’m a little afraid to ask.
But I have to know.
I put the car in drive and casually ask with a big smile, “How was practice? Did you hit that vault you’ve been working on, Danielle?”
Silence.
When I brake to stop before pulling out onto the street, I look up at the rearview mirror. Both the girls are crying.
“Hey, what’s going on? Did something happen at practice?” I ask, my fear at what I’m going to hear growing by the second.