•••
“I’m coming, I’m coming!” I yell at the doorbell, assuming Aunt Viv’s locked herself out and after all these years I can finally catch her in the act of heading to Allstar Donuts before dawn. A thirteen-year truth about to be revealed.
“Meredith, it’s Wednesday at six-thirty in the morning. WHAT areyou doing at my house? Wait—how do you even know where I live?!?!” I’m standing in front of one of the biggest prospective parents and donors Fairchild has ever known in pajama bottoms with Michelle Obama faces all over them and a skimpy Target tank top. My eyes are crusted over and still half asleep, but at least I have the wherewithal to cross my arms over my chest as my nipples turn hard from the blast of early morning cold air coming through the front door.
Meredith ignores both of my questions. “I need to talk to you, Josie, I’m desperate.” She pushes past me to come inside. Her determination and disregard for social protocol shake me awake. I take in not the Meredith Lawton I have come to know but a Meredith Lawton who more resembles how the other 99.99 percent of mothers live. Her hair is disheveled and her breath is stank. Her pristine white T-shirt has coffee dribbled down the front and I see a hint of leftover red lipstick in the creases of her lips. Imperfect as all get out. This is the first time I feel like we are the same gender let alone that I could possibly, one day, maybe, like this very real person who stands before me.
“Do the three of you actually live in a place this small?” Meredith asks from the center of our living room that I have always described as “oversized” for a two-unit Victorian. And just like that, my capacity to embrace Meredith, flaws and all, has died. I choose not to acknowledge her question with an answer.
“Why are you here, Meredith? We could have met at school in daylight. I always make time for potential parents during working hours.”
“It’s all fallen apart, Josie. Randy gave his two-week notice last night. Harrison’s scores from the educational psychologist came yesterday and they are...” Meredith looks like she’s choking, and I grab the back of a chair ready to Heimlich her if I have to, “his scores are in the average range. Can you believe it? The shock of it nearly sent me into a tailspin, but luckily my meditation guru was willing to talk to me from his retreat center in Goa. He’s on a fourteen-day talking cleanse, but for me he was willing to break his vow of silence. Heknows an emergency when he hears one. Then, when I finally get off the phone with him once my energy has calmed and my chakras have realigned, Christopher sashays into my sanctuary and flippantly announces he can’t make it to Viv’s party this weekend. He cancels on the party as casually as he cancels his daily session with his trainer. When I lost it he merely shrugged and said, ‘No harm, no foul.’ But I informed him with every decibel I could muster that his actions are indeed harmful to Harrison’s future!” Meredith flops on the couch, grabbing a pillow to her chest. “And if that wasn’t enough to break the strongest of women down to the core, get this, Beatrice hasn’t returned any of my calls, e-mails, texts, or Facebook messages. It’s like the universe is conspiring against me, Josie. And I don’t understand why. I spend countless hours on my yoga mat setting positive intentions and sending healing vibrations out into the world, so that karma will support me when I need it most. But instead, what do I get in return? I get a normal child and a husband who doesn’t seem to care about his future, which, to note, just got increasingly difficult to sort out given his test scores. I don’t understand; we had a tutor for six months working with Harrison to prepare for the exam. What am I going to do with a normal kid, Josie? WHAT?!?!? His social and professional prospects are now so limited!”
As Meredith is talking my mind wanders to contemplating if I could start a new business that provides private school “admissions therapy.” I’m pretty sure I could charge $200 an hour for one-hour phone consults and $350 for in-person consults for the month leading up to March 15, when school decisions go out. If I’m willing to go a month without sleep and be available for twenty-four-hour round-the-clock house calls, I bet I could make enough money to skip working the other eleven months of the year. I think I’m on to something. This would definitely help with the college tuition hurdle.
“Meredith, you know what I think would be most helpful to you?” I’m making up my first official go as an admissions therapist on thefly, ’cause I need to get Meredith off my couch. In the spirit of generosity and wanting to make Meredith not my problem, I decide to make Nan’s day without her even knowing about it. This is a deliberate last move in my “kill Nan with kindness” strategy before it expires Saturday night. “A good sit-down chat with Nan Gooding, that’s what you need. I’m sure she would love to hear the details of your current predicaments. She’s a very good listener and she loves to help Fairchild’s most cherished potential families. I am texting Nan’s assistant, Elsa, right now, even though the sun has yet to come up. She usually gets in around seven-thirty and she will get back to you and I know Nan will want to see you immediately, if not sooner.” I put down my iPhone so I can look intently into Meredith’s eyes and send her ESP signals to leave my house pronto. “Nan will help you feel better about this whole being normal dilemma, I promise.”
There’s no sign on Meredith’s face that she has registered what I have just said or done, and she is making no gestures to get up and leave despite my best efforts. “I—I will just die if Harrison is, Harrison is, well, you know, actually normal. Maybe the tests are wrong, maybe we need to get a second opinion from another educational psychologist.” Meredith scrunches her face up tight, like she was just dared to suck the pulp off a lime. “So, I’ll get a second opinion. Yes, yes that’s what I’ll do, I’m definitely scheduling an appointment for another opinion. And then I’m writing a scathing Yelp review of the doctor who claims Harrison is normal.Pfft—where’d she go to school? UC San Diego? I need a doctor from a real school.”
“I know it must be tough, Meredith, but the good news is billions of us function successfully every day with diagnosed and undiagnosed afflictions of normalcy. It really is remarkable what healthy, normal people can do and how fulfilling their lives can be in this day and age.” The fact that I’m standing here discussing a nonexistent problem, when NOBODY in my community comes to a person’s house this early unless someone is dead, is not lost on me. I alsoknow that if Meredith doesn’t get off my couch soon she’s gonna be that dead somebody.
Meredith smooths her hair back. She doesn’t acknowledge a word I’ve said and, frankly, she may have forgotten I’m in the room. “It’s still several months until Harrison starts school, so I have plenty of time to replace Randy,” Meredith says with an increasing air of confidence and can-do spirit. “A meeting with Nan will be good; this is a situation that may be over your head, Josie, no offense. I’m glad we agree something this important needs to go to the top. And Beatrice is probably on holiday, don’t you think? I’m sure that’s it.” A truthful answer from me is not really what Meredith is looking for.
“Way to go, girl, love your problem-solving initiative!” I give a little attagirl punch in the air and point Meredith to the door before her moment of personal power disintegrates. She picks up some momentum to get off the couch but looks at my phone on the side table when a text dings. I let the rudeness of checking out my electronic personal life go in lieu of her leaving swiftly.
“You know, these are the moments in life that really test who you are in the universe and how you overcome the obstacles of your earthbound and celestial journey. I can’t wait until my yoga teacher gets back from Esalen, so I can tell her how I was able to asana my way through this trial and envision my way out of the darkness and into the light. I’m a survivor, and Harrison will be, too, despite his diagnosis. You know, I’m going to go straight home and vision board about this. By the way, if indeed Harrison has a diagnosis of normal, does that count as diversity?”
This may possibly be the weirdest morning I’ve had since Etta was born. Pre-Etta, I believe it was cartwheeling down the beaches of Nice with a gaggle of Cirque du Soleil drag queens after a private Prada show in a French castle owned by a Russian oligarch. But this, I have to say, is a close second.
TWENTY-TWO
TY
I’ll pick up you all up at 6:50. Looking forward to the party tonight.
4:47 P.M.
JOSIE
Why don’t we just meet you and Daniel there?
4:48 P.M.
TY
Is chivalry dead? My sister couldn’t babysit so he’s home with Gracie. Besides, I’m Viv’s date tonight, not Daniel’s.
4:49 P.M.
JOSIE
Etta’s Aunt Viv’s date.
4:50 P.M.
TY
She’s dumping me before the evening has even started?
