Glancing down at his shoe, I noticed it really did have a hole in it. It wasn’t because I had no money—even though I had no money. It was a wear and tear issue. I grew up in thrift store purchases and I had decided a long time ago that I would never let my kid suffer through that.
Okay, I didn’t want him to grow up inonlythrift store stuff. Besides, sometimes you could find great deals there and I was not a girl that could pass up a good deal.
As a grown up, I knew how to sift through the second-hand stores and find great pieces, sometimes even vintage and rare pieces. That was a skill my mom never had. But for Max, I worked my butt off to give him new clothes. And when he got older, if he wanted to make the choice to thrift shop, I would show him the ways.
“All right, go ahead. I’ll talk to Mrs. Hayes myself.” After kissing the top of his head, he ran off to play with his friends and I trudged over to the teacher’s desk, both dreading that I had to have this conversation and proud that I was the kind of mom that would stand up for my kiddo.
Mrs. Hayes was mid-thirties and lovely. With her blonde bob, studded leggings and dress-shirt tunic, she was even trendy. Especially considering the rest of her peers here at Clark City Elementary.
She was also super kind. I explained the situation quietly and she filled me in on Sophia’s attitude. She said she’d been meaning to email me because this wasn’t the first time.
“I hesitated,” she explained, “because Max rolls so well with the punches. I’ve only caught Sophia once or twice, but I’ve suspected more. Max will never tell me what she says.”
“I’m concerned she felt brave enough to say those things to me.”
Mrs. Hayes nodded, her eyes darting to Leslie and Sophia. “I’ll talk to Mrs. Price before they leave today. I’m so sorry she said that to Max though. Is he okay?”
We both turned to look at Max, who was currently entertaining half the class with more candy corn tricks.
I had never been like that as a kid. I’d tried to hide from all attention. A memory surfaced of Levi making fun of braids I’d tried to do myself in front of the boys in our class when we were only in second grade. I flushed with embarrassment even now.
It was the day I decided I didn’t like him. He’d humiliated me. And I had shrunk further into my introvert skin.
“I think he’s okay.”
“You wouldn’t believe how resilient kids are,” Mrs. Hayes added. “Not that bullying or cruel talk is ever tolerated, but at least you know he can bounce back.”
Bounce back. The phrase ping-ponged through my head as I absorbed it. Emotions churned inside me, a hundred different memories of elementary school that I had yet to bounce back from.
Maybe I was just a different kid than Max—more sensitive, more fragile. Or maybe my world at that age was different than Max’s. He’d grown up in relative stability. Yeah, he didn’t have a dad, but he did have a mom that loved him more than anything, three meals every day and clothes that fit him.
I hadn’t had those things.
Sucking in a sharp breath, I let the weight of being a mom settle anew on my shoulders. Max was growing up in the same trailer I had, in the same neighborhood, in the same kind of poverty-stricken circumstances. I had been molded by my circumstances and situation. And yet because he had a mom that loved him, none of it defined him.
“He’s a good kid,” she added. “You’re doing a great job with him.”
Tears stung my eyes again, but I blinked them quickly away. “Thank you.”
Max and I left a few minutes later, when Mrs. Hayes pulled Leslie aside. I figured that was a great time to make an exit. The party had officially ended, and pickup would start soon. I told Jamie I wanted to beat the traffic after I’d helped put away some of the decorations, but mainly I didn’t want to stick around and watch Leslie make excuses for her mean-spirited child.
I supposed I didn’t know she would do that for sure and I felt bad for judging her as she had Max and me, but I’d also seen enough women like her to know what to expect.
“I love you, Mommy,” Max said on the way to the car, his hand tucked securely into mine. “Thanks for coming to my party.”
Gazing down on my smart, funny, easy-going child, I couldn’t help but grin. “I wouldn’t have missed it for the world. I love you too, buddy.”
Our cheap and easy meal of Velveeta Mac and Cheese and turkey sandwiches that night reminded me of Sophia’s hurtful words, but they didn’t touch me this time. I was doing a good job with Max. I wasn’t perfect, and I wouldn’t do everything right, but I was doing more good than harm. I was raising a kind, considerate little boy. I was involved and attentive and hopeful for his future.
I didn’t get out of this town, but maybe Max would.
16
Ghouls, Goblins and Ghosts From the Past
“Ilook awesome!” Max cheered when I showed him his full Halloween look with face paint. He’d decided to dress as The Hulk, so on top of the muscled green onesie costume, I’d painted his face green and used temporary kids’ hair dye to make his hair black. “Grammy, look at how cool I look!”
“Mmph,” she grunted. “Who are you? What did you do with Max?”
