Page 33 of Valley of the Moms
“The past is the past,” Mary said. “We’re here to talk about the future. Isn’t that right, ladies?” Was it Anna’s imagination, or had there been a flash of something as she said it? Anger? Indignation? But that wasn’t right. Anna’s imagination was running away again, and she relaxed a bit when Mary raised a glass and smiled into the late-afternoon sun. “To Anna,” she said.
“To Anna,” Black Slip Dress said.
Di had set up little stations with information cards, printed by VistaPrint, Anna’s face smiling back along with a handful of bullet points and some handy sloganeering about why she would be a good fit for the post. Anna watched as a few of the women picked the cards up, looked them over, and, astonishingly, even tuckedthem into handbags. She thought of her face, sitting on a kitchen countertop, looking up at some Hamilton family a few days from now. She couldn’t be sure, but she could feel something at work that was larger than her.
Across the street, a dog barked. A car door slammed. “Did my invitation get lost in the mail?” a voice said, a bit more loudly than other voices at this garden party. And then two faces were before her, Mimi and Karen, their children not with them—probably for the best, Anna thought to herself—both dressed in long, sleeveless sundresses, purple organza for Mimi and a cream-colored linen for Karen.
“It’s nice to see you both,” Anna said. “It was an open-invitation event. I’m so glad you could make it.”
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Mimi said. The corner of her mouth turned up on the left a little, like she could taste something she didn’t like. Her hair was piled atop her head in a mismanaged way, almost as if she had left the house in a hurry. Anna had never seen her quite so uncomposed.
“There’s a table with drinks and tea sandwiches in the back,” Anna said. “I’m also happy to share with you my campaign information, if you’d like to see that.” She smiled big and bright at her adversary, allowing the full measure of the late-afternoon sunlight to hit her eyes. Now would be the ideal time to march right back into that rehearsed speech about improving thecommunity.
“A sandwich does sound good right now because I’m famished. How about you, Karen?” Mimi tugged on Karen’s elbow, directing the woman to the table in the back. “You ought to save the campaigning energy for the women here. It’s not me you have to win over, after all.” She looked back, appraised Anna up and down and, seemingly satisfied, headed off toward the food.
Mary slid over on Mimi’s heels. “I would have loved to have seen that,” she said.
“You didn’t miss much, but I think she may have found out a little late,” Anna said.
“Did you expect her to come?”
Anna thought about it. Nothing about Mimi ever surprised her, and, if she thought about it, this was no exception. Of course Mimi was going to show up to assert her authority. That was a traditionally Mimi move: to try to bully her way into the situation, to manipulate Anna’s party to suit her own needs.
“I guess, if I’m honest, deep down, yes,” Anna confessed.
“Well then, the good news is that the worst part is over,” Mary said. Mimi had moved on from the sandwich table to the high-tops, a hummingbird trilling from table to table, visiting with other members of the PTO, no doubt spreading whatever information she had about Anna and the event. Anna turned and watched this other version of the campaign, a muckraking born of self-preservation.
“I’m not so sure it is. Over, I mean.”
On a clipboard at the front, they had collected the names and email addresses of everyone who had shown up. Sixty-two women in total, not including children or the errant woman who had forgotten to sign. A good turnout by any standards, but particularly on a muggy August afternoon in South Hamilton. A few women stood lingering in the dusk, swatting mosquitoes and fanning themselves with Anna’s marketing materials. Their ice-cold drinks had sweat down into the gingham tablecloths, leaving tiny wet tattoos on each small table.
Finally, they filtered out, the women in the gladiator sandals with their knotted little buns and their chunky jewelry and their rattan handbags. Last to swing past the gate was Mimi. She waited as a few of the others said goodbye and thanked Anna and then stood in the low light next to the host.
“I hope you had a nice time,” Anna said, not insincerely.
“The cucumber sandwiches were very good,” Mimi said. Karen was across the street already, unlocking the car. Anna watched as she fumbled with a key fob.
“Perhaps next time we should stage a debate,” Anna said. She raised her own lemonade, first of the day, to the sky, in a mock toast.
Mimi whipped around and grabbed Anna by the wrist. Her grip was strong, fierce, and immediate.
“I am not fucking around, Anna,” she said. “I don’t want a debate. I don’t want a campaign. I don’t want any stupid garden parties in South Fucking Hamilton. Don’t waste my time and I will not waste yours. Am I making myself clear here?”
“Are you saying you do not want me to run for this position, Mimi?” Anna asked. She was laughing now. What was it about this lemonade—about this night—that made this so riotously funny, anyway?
“I am saying that you do not want to go down this road with me. But if you do, I can promise that it will not end in a way that you will expect.” With a quick chop, she brought her hand down on Anna’s wrist. The pain was sharp. Anna dropped the lemonade; it splashed up her leg and onto her skirt, and she cradled her wrist in her hand.She is completely out of control,Anna thought to herself, and not for the first time.This is not normal. None of this is normal.By the time she noticed the climbing stain—a thick, coarse rope of a stain, tightening as it dried—Mimi had already charged off into the growing darkness.
Part III
Winter
Chapter 20
SOMETIMES, ANNA FELTlike she and Denny were two big orbs overlapping in the same world. She loved her husband. She could not imagine a world without her husband. But then: She knew the women who would peel themselves back like an onion, tell their spouses every single thing. Denny went off to his work shed in the morning, hat on, insulated mug full of coffee. After she got the kids on the bus, she, too, retreated. Hague Blue office. Fall had come and gone so quickly she had barely had a minute to think about the rustling maple leaves; pretty soon they were dead and scattered beyond the wood. It wasn’t so much that she hadn’t told Denny about the PTO as much as she assumed he didn’t want to know. How could he have walked past her office without hearing the commotion? Without seeing the little placards with her name on them?
ANNAPLUMMER FORPRESIDENT. He’d have to be half blind.
So she didn’t say anything, just told him she was going out with Di, meeting friends at Honeycomb, trying to make friends,whatever she needed to say to make him happier in their cloud of suspended belief.
