He likes to say it was a typical middle class couple meeting, which sounds much less interesting than the actual story, but that’s Connor. He doesn’t like to romanticize anything. He likes to say, “The plain truth is the best, Jamie. Anything else is just a lie.”
I’ve always thought of my husband as a truthful man. In fact, until recently, I would have said he was a man who wouldn’t tell a lie about anything.
These past few days have made me question that claim. What really happened up on that path? I don’t understand why he took a gun in the first place, but why did he take it out and let Bryan grab a hold of it? None of that sounds like Connor.
I see the first girls coming out the front doors of the gym and looking around through the downpour for their mothers’ cars. My girls aren’t out yet, so I hang back and don’t get in the pick up line. One by one, I see my daughters’ teammates leave while I wait for Cassandra and Danielle. The coach must have asked them to stay. I hope all this terrible nonsense with Connor isn’taffecting their gymnastics. They were so thrilled to have made the team.
That was just two weeks ago. How quickly life changes.
When all the cars leave, I see Vanessa’s daughter standing alone with no sign of her mother. I start my car and drive up to the front of the building before lowering the passenger side window. Allie sees me but doesn’t smile or wave, so I call out, “Honey, do you need a ride? I’m happy to take you home as soon as the girls come out.”
She turns to face me, and I instantly see she looks uneasy. Slowly, the rain begins to slow down, so she walks over to the car and leans in.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Jennings, but I’m not supposed to talk to you.”
I know the reason why, but still I have to ask. “Why?”
She hangs her head and in a low voice says, “My mother says I can’t. I’m sorry.”
“Okay. Hurry back under the awning so you don’t get wet, honey.”
I sound chipper as I say that, but inside, I’m crushed. If she’s being like this with an adult, I have no doubt she wasn’t any friendlier to my girls. My heart feels like it’s in a vice someone twists tighter and tighter when I think about them being shunned.
A car pulls up behind me, and I look in the rearview mirror to see Vanessa Dennis behind the wheel. She doesn’t wave or smile. She simply gives me a look that says she doesn’t like me anymore.
I look away, unable to deal with the rejection from the one person who has the power to help. I thought talking to her would stave off any repercussions from what’s happening with Connor. I guess I was wrong.
As she drives past my car, I can feel her stare. It’s ugly and hateful, but I keep my gaze focused on the touchscreen that says a song from Madonna is playing on the radio. I wouldn’t know. I can’t hear anything right now but my heartbeat in my ears.
Finally, I look up when I know she’s gone and see my daughters slowly walking out of the building. Their expressions tell me they experienced the same thing I just did, and once again, my heart clenches in my chest.
I paste a smile on my face and honk the horn. They run over to the car, and for a second, I let myself believe I was misreading what I was seeing. Maybe things weren’t as bad as I’m making them out to be. True, kids can be cruel, but gymnastics is a team sport, so they all have to work together to do their best.
Cassandra and Danielle pile into the back seat of my car and slam the door shut. Ordinarily, they talk a million miles a minute about school and practice. I can barely keep up on most days.
Today is not like that. They sit silently not even speaking to one another. I don’t know what happened at practice, and I’m a little afraid to ask.
But I have to know.
I put the car in drive and casually ask with a big smile, “How was practice? Did you hit that vault you’ve been working on, Danielle?”
Silence.
When I brake to stop before pulling out onto the street, I look up at the rearview mirror. Both the girls are crying.
“Hey, what’s going on? Did something happen at practice?” I ask, my fear at what I’m going to hear growing by the second.
My younger daughter can’t stop sobbing, but Cassandra answers, “Nobody would talk to us, Mom. It was horrible! Thank God we have each other because they wouldn’t even practice with us. Coach said he was going to have a team meetingtomorrow, so maybe they’ll be better after that, but today was terrible.”
My instinct as a mother is to protect my girls, and I have to fight the overwhelming urge to turn this car around and march right into the gym to ask the coach why the meeting has to wait until tomorrow. What the hell was wrong with setting those girls straight today? What kind of coach lets two girls be hurt under their watch?
“I’m sorry, honey. I’m sure it will be better once Coach Mark talks to everyone.”
Those words taste like ash, but I have to say them. What I really want to do is drive to each of those girls’ homes and tell their parents what I think of them and the way they’ve been treating my family.
As I drive, I wonder how to broach going to my parents’ house for a little while. Maybe they’ll be happy to have a break from the house. A change of scenery is always nice.
When I hear Danielle sniffle, I say, “What would you think about going to see your grandparents? I was thinking we’d go visit for a little bit.”
