I plaster a smile on my face and shoot her a quick response, letting her know I was just about to get to it and please see my forthcoming email.
But instead of handling that immediately, I check my PTA folder and find a long thread regarding the end of year fundraiser. Everybody loves the food idea and we’re set to go for a Friday in two weeks. Great. At least that’s handled by somebody who’s not me.
One less thing to worry about.
I find my to-do list, under the pile of art from the kids that is always overtaking my desk, and I cross off the PTA fundraiser. This list is forever growing and sometimes I’m sure I’ll die before I complete everything.
The end of school does not mark the end of the to-do list. The kids have camp, sports, activities, play dates. There’re a million things still going on over the summer. And Trent still works so it’s all on me, like always.
The girls will both be taking swim lessons, but because they’re different ages of course they can’t be at the same time or even the same day. I swear we’re going to spend half our summer at the pool for lessons and not even for fun.
Then Jessica wants to play soccer while Kendall wants to do gymnastics. And Charlie’s too young to do anything but be carted around to all of the events plus some mommy and me classes if I can find one.
That’s on top of camp for the girls.
It’s a good thing Charlie’s an easy-going baby because he gets dragged left and right to his sisters’ events and running my thousand errands a day. I can sit him in the grocery cart with a snack and he’s just a happy go lucky little boy who chatters away and points out what he sees as we wander the store.
Kendall wasn’t terribly different. I wasn’t so lucky with Jessica, first time mom and all that jazz. She’d scream bloody murder any time I tried to even separate her from my body. That finally broke when she turned five. A few years of preschool helped but going off to kindergarten was the winning ticket.
It helped that I was class mom and showed up whenever I could. That’s when it started; volunteering. At first, I wanted to be around to help her transition, especially since it was going a bit rough. But then it became a need, a compulsion, something that added to my perfect persona.
Why I feel the need to keep it going, I can’t say, but some part of meneedspeople to see the fake perfection I put on for them. It’s like if they saw the real me, they wouldn’t want to know me anymore.
That’s probably why I don’t have sex with Trent as much lately. I’ve gained a little weight in recent months and add that to the already negative feelings about my body, you get a combo that doesn’t feel like being intimate. Or naked.
I even try to make sure I’m in my pajamas before he’s in the room, even if it’s only a baggy t-shirt.
But I can’t fake it with him like I can other people. Not only can he see right through me, since he knows me better than anybody, but he’s seen me at my best and my worst. My highest and lowest. I’m sure earlier he knew I was plastering on that fake smile, but he let it go because he knew I didn’t want to keep talking about it.
At times, it can be annoying. Sometimes I want him to push. But he also knows that it can be a slippery slope that drives me into anger, rather than opening up, but he knows that I’ll come to him when I’m ready.
The problem is that I’m not usually ready and it all stays inside. Sometimes I feel like a volcano where things bubble just below the surface and each new problem just adds more and more until the pressure is so much that I blow.
Becca says it isn’t healthy.
Even though Trent knows me, sees me, loves me, he holds me on this pedestal that I don’t deserve. A level of perfection that isn’t earned but given just because.
Three end of year emails later and I’m about to flip my laptop shut. But, my fingers hesitate over the keys instead of closing the lid.
A quick check of my social media wouldn’t hurt. I don’t use it for much except keeping up with some old classmates and further-away family. It’s an easy way for me to update my parents with pictures of the kids since they now live across the country.
The first notification is a heart from David.
Immediately, I slam the laptop shut. The uptick of my pulse that notifications from him brings is not something that should happen.
Instead, I go to the kitchen to make dinner.
Chapter 9
ThoughIwaitedanotherfew days beyond the conversation with Becca, I finally RSVPed for the reunion. There’s the actual reunion itself, which is held at The Manor at Brighton Hill, and then a meet and greet in the high school gym the night before.
While Trent thinks we should go to both, and Becca is more than willing to have the kids for two nights, I can’t imagine anything less fun than being back in the high school.
The whole thing feels like it’s going to be nothing more than a tedious night. It’s enough that I’m going to the reunion. I don’t need an extra night with my old classmates.
It’s not that I left on terrible terms, because I didn’t. High school just wasn’t a place I liked being or have many fond memories of. Yes, it’s where I met Trent and all that jazz, but that’s really the highlight of my time at Brighton. There are far more bad memories than there are good ones. Especially since after Trent left, those good times were overshadowed.
The cool kids picked on me, made fun of me for being smart. I was an easy target once Trent was gone because I kept to myself and my small group of friends. When I started dating David it was even worse because he was routinely the butt of jokes. He didn’t care. Just lived his life to the fullest and didn’t give a damn what anybody else thought of him.
