Chapter 8
Dear parents,
Julie
Elliot lets out a low whistle when I come into the kitchen dressed in a long-sleeved chiffon dress that I paid far too much for last month. “Wow, April,” he says. “Are you sure you’re just going to a PTA meeting?”
I roll my eyes, but he does have a point.
I dress better for PTA meetings than I do for pretty much anything else in my life, even my videos.
After all, the image I’m trying to portray on Sweet Secrets is that of a wholesome housewife.
But the dress code for these PTA meetings just keeps getting stricter and stricter.
We’re all trying to live up to Julie’s standard.
Bobby looks up from his bowl of macaroni and cheese, which Elliot made for him. Elliot can only make Kraft macaroni and cheese and frozen chicken nuggets. That’s it. But to be fair, those are Bobby’s two favorite foods.
“You look pretty, Mom,” Bobby comments.
I ruffle my hand through his red-tinged brown hair. “You don’t have to sound so surprised.”
Bobby studies me for a moment. “Mom, are you having a baby?”
Aaaaaand my confidence flies out the window. “What?”
“Dylan’s mom is having a baby,” Bobby explains. “And Lena’s mom is having a baby. And I don’t have any brothers or sisters.”
I smooth out my dress over my belly, hoping it doesn’t even remotely look like I have a baby bump there.
I glance over at Elliot, whose hopeful expression mirrors Bobby’s.
The truth is, Elliot and I want another child.
He would have liked three or even four, but the fact that I haven’t managed to get pregnant with even a second is a source of tension.
There’s part of me that wonders if he thinks of me as a failure for not managing to conceive again.
He’s been gently pushing me to see a fertility specialist, and a few months ago, he mentioned he went to a urologist and got his sperm checked.
His sperm were perfect, of course. He had Olympic superstar sperm.
So the implication is that if we’re not pregnant with his Olympic sperm, it must be because of me.
Ironically, we had no trouble at all getting pregnant with Bobby. Actually, we jumped the gun a little bit on that one. But nobody noticed my baby bump in my wedding dress.
“No,” I reply patiently. “We’re not having a baby.”
“Yet,” Elliot adds.
I shoot him a look. The last thing I want is for Bobby to go around telling his friends that his parents are trying to have a baby. How long will it take for that to get back to the other parents?
But Elliot just shrugs. He thinks I’m going to get pregnant any month now. He doesn’t get it.
“Well, I’m going to head over to Maria’s house,” I say. “Are you two going to be all right? You know Julie makes us shut our phones off?”
“I think I can handle a few hours alone with Bobby.”
That remains to be seen. Whenever I go out, Elliot always texts me the most inane questions.
He’s a high-powered attorney, but sometimes it feels like he can’t find his right hand without me.
The last time I went out and he watched Bobby, he sent me a text asking where the milk was.
The milk is in the refrigerator! If it’s not in the refrigerator, you shouldn’t be drinking it!
“Dad, can we play Nintendo together?” Bobby asks.
Elliot frowns. “I have a ton of work to do, Bobby. Can’t you play by yourself?”
“I guess.” Bobby drops his head and looks down at his macaroni and cheese. He loves playing Nintendo with Elliot, but I’m not surprised he doesn’t have time tonight. I’ve tried to play with him, but apparently, I “suck.”
Maria offered to drive us both to the school tonight. Parking is sparse, so we agreed it would be a good idea to carpool. And it will be a chance for me to get to know my new neighbor better.
I limp over to Maria’s house in my new Sergio Rossi pumps. It’s colder than I thought it would be, and I hug my wrap around my chest as I shiver. I consider going back for a coat, but I’m almost at Maria’s house. We’ll be in her white SUV in a few moments.
I hit the doorbell, but I don’t hear any chimes within the house. Maybe it’s broken. I wait for a few seconds, then bang on the door. After another few seconds, I hear footsteps, and the door swings open.
Damn, it’s Sean.
He’s the last person I want to see after that awkward encounter yesterday. Also, the last time I saw him, he was shirtless. And now I’m having trouble picturing him not shirtless. It makes me a little breathless all of a sudden.
“Hi!” I say brightly. “I’m—”
“April.” He flashes me a crooked smile. “I remember.” He steps to the side so I can slip past him. He smells like wood chips. “Come on in.”
He doesn’t seem angry, at least. Maybe he bought my story about wandering into the wrong room. Then again, he doesn’t seem stupid or na?ve either.
“Maria will be down in a second,” he explains. “She’s still deciding on…shoes, I think.”
“Oh, she shouldn’t stress so much about what she’s wearing,” I say. Even though I spent two hours picking out my outfit for tonight.
“That’s what I said.” Sean shrugs. “So what is this thing tonight at the school?”
“Parent-teacher association,” I explain. “It’s where parents help fundraise for the school and plan fun and educational events for the kids.”
“Oh.” He scratches at his beard. “Should I be going to that then?”
I laugh.
He frowns. “Why is that funny?”
“Oh.” I blink at him. “I thought you were joking. Fathers usually don’t go to these meetings.”
“Really?” He focuses his blue eyes on me. “Why not? I’m a parent. What if I have ideas about fun and educational events for my kid?”
“Well…”
He’s not making an unreasonable point. But the fact of the matter is that fathers simply don’t go to the PTA meetings.
In the two years I’ve been going, I’ve only seen one father there, and he was a bit creepy.
One of those men whose eyes were always focused just a little bit below your face, if you know what I mean.
And he spent fifteen straight minutes gushing about how much he liked my cooking show, and especially this one sweater I wore.
But before I can stammer out an excuse that wouldn’t be offensive, Maria appears at the bottom of the stairs and saves me. “Sean, you don’t want to go to a PTA meeting. You’d be bored stiff. And anyway, Owen is expecting to take you down in Ping-Pong tonight.”
Sean cracks a genuine smile. “No way. I’m still the Ping-Pong master. He’s not going to be able to beat me until he’s at least eight.”
“Don’t be silly. He’s letting you win.”
Sean grins wider and takes in Maria’s appearance.
She’s wearing a dress like I am, which is a brown color that complements her brown eyes and is short enough to reveal some pretty shapely legs.
He grabs her arm and pulls her in for a kiss that lasts for several seconds. She giggles, loving it. I drop my eyes.
“Don’t stay out too late,” I hear him murmur in her ear.
I look down at my nails, which I had done in a tasteful light pink a few days ago and still seem intact.
I don’t know why Sean and Maria’s display of affection is making me so uncomfortable.
Elliot kisses me all the time. But I can’t help but think that he never kisses me quite like that. Not anymore, at least.
And I can’t help but think that my husband isn’t as sexy as Sean Cooper either. But that’s a thought I’m going to push completely out of my head. Permanently.
The first thing Julie says to Maria and me when we walk into the Hopkins School library is, “You’re late.”
Even though we are, in fact, half an hour early.
Maria looks at me in confusion, but I quickly say, “I’m sorry. What do you need us to do?”
Julie makes a tutting sound. “I told you. We need the desks and chairs arranged in a circular formation. Circular. Do you know what I mean, April?”
“No problem.”
She steps out of the library to make a phone call, leaving me and Maria to do the dirty work. Maria keeps casting looks in my direction, but after a few minutes, she finally speaks up. “Why do you let her talk to you that way?”
I’m busy getting one of the desks arranged just right. If they don’t meet her standards, we’ll have to redo it. “What way?”
Maria straightens up. “I’m sorry, I know she’s your friend, but she’s so bossy. I would never speak to somebody like that. You’re not her slave.”
I let out a sigh. “I know. But you have to understand that Julie is like royalty here. Everyone respects her so much. The only way I got started with Sweet Secrets is because Julie told everyone they should watch it.”
“That’s nice of her, but still.”
“Listen,” I say. “If you’re nice to Julie, she’ll do anything for you. But she expects you to do what she says in return.”
Maria adjusts one of the chairs. “I’m sorry, April, but I’m not going to let Julie push me around the way she pushes you around.”
She looks like she has something else to say, but mothers are starting to come into the library, and we can’t risk anyone hearing us talk trash about Julie. That would get back to her in an instant.
The PTA meeting starts promptly at six o’clock, with Julie presiding at the front of the room.
It’s the first meeting of the year, which means she starts out with a PowerPoint presentation about all the amazing things we accomplished last year.
She was the vice president then, but she did most of the work—Julie is a natural leader.
Yes, she can be bossy, but she’s very good at what she does.
I can’t even imagine what she was like as a lawyer. I bet she was terrifying.
“Thank you all for coming tonight.” Julie folds her arms across her chest as she stares out at the impressive showing.
She’s also very good at getting people to participate.
“As you know, our school does a great job, thanks to Mrs. Donnelly here.” She gives a nod to our principal, who I know from experience will be largely silent during this meeting.
“However, the PTA is essential in providing extra fun and educational events for our children like school trips and book fairs, and your participation is essential to that.”
Without further ado, Julie launches into a PowerPoint summary of everything the PTA does and has done and will continue to do in the future.
It goes on for well over an hour, and it’s very hard to keep from yawning.
The only thing keeping me from doing it is knowing I would hear about it forever from Julie.
I’m also starving. I had a bite to eat before I left the house, but somehow I’m still hungry.
(Maybe it’s the baby growing inside me—not.) My stomach has a hollow feeling, and I’m scared that any moment it will let out an embarrassing growl.
I once suggested I bring a tray of brownies for the PTA meetings, but Julie was adamantly against it.
I don’t know how you can be adamantly against brownies, but she was.
I clench my abdominal muscles, trying not to think about food. It helps. A little.
“As you all know,” Julie is saying, “one of our big fundraisers is the biannual silent auction. For those of you who don’t know, this is when we solicit donations from other parents and you can bid online.
We will announce the winners at the fall carnival.
This year, the silent auction is again being run by April Masterson, who did a phenomenal job last year. ”
I raise a hand to acknowledge a smattering of applause.
The silent auction is a lot of work, but as Julie said, it’s a huge fundraiser.
This town is super rich, and people donate extravagant items. Mink coats.
Six tickets to a Taylor Swift concert. The year before last, somebody donated a boat.
An actual boat! A nice one too, not just a rickety wooden rowboat.
“This is a big job,” Julie says, “and April can’t do it by herself. Would anyone else like to volunteer to cochair the silent auction?”
I hold my breath, hoping it won’t be Melody Taylor, who “helped” me last year. The quotation marks are very appropriate in this situation. Melody did nothing. She had no idea what was donated or how much money we made.
A hand goes up to my right. “I’d like to help,” Maria says.
I let out a breath of relief. Maria will be an amazing cochair. Even though I’ve only known her a couple of days, I can already tell.
“Thanks,” I say.
Julie nods, but her attention is distracted. She’s looking at the corner of the room, where a new parent I don’t recognize has her phone out and is talking to someone on the other line, one finger in her ear. I wince, knowing what’s coming.
“Excuse me,” Julie says sharply. “We’re trying to have a meeting here.”
The woman might have been able to save herself if she had shoved it back into her purse immediately, but instead, she keeps the phone in her hand and flashes an apologetic smile. “Sorry, this is an important call…”
There isn’t a trace of sympathy on Julie’s face. “If you insist on disrupting our meeting, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
The woman smiles—she thinks it’s a joke. The smile fades from her face when she realizes Julie is one hundred percent serious. “Oh, well, I’ll just be another minute…”
“No.” Julie’s dark eyes are like ice. “You should leave. And you can come back after you’ve dealt with your personal issues.”
“But I—” The woman looks wildly around the room, like she thinks somebody might stand up for her and point out how ridiculous this is. When she realizes that’s not going to happen, her shoulders sag. “All right.”
We all watch as the woman does the walk of shame out of the library. She mumbles something under her breath, but lucky for her, she doesn’t say it out loud.