Ch. 1: Back to School Shopping
Author's Notes: This really is an amazing show. I am planning on doing a series of one-shots of the family, pre-pilot. I want to focus on the moms and their relationships with their kids and with one another. They won't be in chronological order because when I get an idea, I'll add to it.
When Lena suggested she take Brandon school shopping she expected Stef insist on accompanying them. The look of relief on Stef's face was comical. "Oh my G-d, thank you," Stef said, giving her partner a bone-crushing hug.
Lena was a little surprised. "You mean you don't want to take him?" she asked. "Not at all? It's first grade."
Stef rolled her eyes theatrically. "You mean go to the place where there thousands of children and their crazy mothers? The whining? The yelling? No, Love, I think I can miss that."
Lena chuckled. As an assistant vice principal and former teacher she had a great deal of experience with back-to-school sales. They didn't scare her. The best time to go was in the late evening. But since Brandon wanted to be included on this little trip, she knew she would have to brave the crowd.
Brandon prattled excitedly in the car. He had his school list clenched in his hands as he eagerly read off each item, proud to show-off his reading skills. Lena nodded in all the right places, mentally eliminating some items and adding others. Before they left the car she gave Brandon strict instructions to stay by her side at all times. If he wanted to go somewhere, he needed to tell her where he was going was going. Then he might be allowed to go independently (still within sight and/or hearing range though).
He nodded seriously and agreed knowing his mother would have similar requirements.
When they entered the store's front doors, they found it was as full as she had feared. Brandon, who could become shy sometimes in crowds, moved a little closer to her.
"All right kiddo," she said. "Let's start with the clothes and then we'll get the school supplies last."
He scowled a little, but she decided to ignore it. She knew that he would be worn out after looking for new clothes. Shopping for the school supplies would perk him up and they could end this trip on a good note.
They managed to pick out several pairs of pants, jeans, and long and short sleeve shirts. The little boy decided he really needed the Sponge Bob Squarepants underwear, so they got that too. The clothes were piled into the cart and they moved toward the changing rooms.
Brandon willingly tried on the clothes with a minimum of grumbling. Lena promised him that the faster he tried on clothes, the quicker they would get to the "real" school supply shopping. They were momentarily stymied by an ill fitting pair of pants.
"Lena," she heard her son's little voice.
"Yes," she responded distractedly as she used her Palm Pilot to check the time for her dentist appointment tomorrow.
"These pants don't fit. I've tried and tried but I think if I try much harder I'm going to break the zipper," the sounds from inside the dressing room indicated that he was continuing to yank at the clothing.
"Don't do that," Lena warned. "I'll go and get another pair. You stay here and try on the jeans and the shirts. Stay in the dressing room, Brandon. I'll be back in a few minutes." She paused, waiting for his reply.
"Okay," he responded, voice muffled by a shirt he was pulling over his head.
Lena moved swiftly to the boy's clothing section. She looked through the pants quickly and found a pair that was the right color and the right size. As she moved towards the dressing rooms, she was stopped by an eager voice.
"Ms. Adams! Ms. Adams!"
She turned towards the voice and put on a pleasant smile. "Mrs. Collins. Andrew," she said cordially.
"I can't believe you're here…in the same store as me!" Andrew said with wide eyes. "What are you doing here?"
Lena and Mrs. Collins shared a look of amusement. "I don't actually live at the school Andrew," she assured him. "It just seems like I do."
Mrs. Collins laughed. "He's really looking forward to returning to Anchor Beach. You have such a wonderful program there. His father and I are so pleased with how well he's doing."
Lena nodded. It was always nice to hear compliments, even if you were in a hurry. "Andrew's a good boy," she said honestly. "We always enjoy seeing his smiling face." She glanced over at the dressing rooms quickly. "Unfortunately I have to get going. My son's trying on clothes." She directed the next comment to Mrs. Collins. "I'll see next week at Parents' Night, right?"
Mrs. Collins nodded enthusiastically but then stopped her with a hand on her arm "I just have a quick question."
Lena glanced again at the boys' dressing room, mentally rolling her eyes. There was almost always one last question. She nodded her head pleasantly. "Go ahead," she invited.
As Mrs. Collins grilled her about the second-grade curriculum and the program reviews the staff had conducted, she nodded and responded to each point in a professional and precise manner. When Mrs. Collins segued into the new National Math Standards, Lena politely informed her that they would go over it, in detail at Parents' Night. Mrs. Collins and Andrew left with pleased smiles on their faces. Lena sighed internally. Another day another satisfied parent. The difficult part of being a teacher in the community was that you were a teacher in the community. Each foray into the neighborhood meant the prospect of encountering students and their families in any possible place or circumstance.
When she reached the boys' dressing room, she tapped on the door. "Brandon," she said. "Sorry I'm late baby. I have new pants." There was no response. She knocked harder. "Brandon?" Hearing continued silence, she opened the door. The clothes they had chosen were piled on the chair haphazardly, but Brandon was nowhere to be found.
She stepped out into the hallway. "Brandon?" she called loudly. No response. She walked nervously up to the red-haired dressing room attendant. "Did you see the boy I came here with?" she asked. "He's just a little boy. Six years old. He has brown hair, blue eyes."
The older woman shook her head. "I remember him coming in with you, but I don't remember seeing him come out," she paused to look around the dressing room area, as if she could see what Lena missed. "We got pretty busy for a while. Lots of people coming in and out. I didn't have my eyes on the exit the whole time," she shrugged half-apologetically.
Lena nodded her understanding and began to move swiftly through the boys clothing section. "Brandon!" she called. She maintained her calm façade but was inwardly apprehensive. She knew the most likely outcome was that she would find him wandering. But if you watched the news or read the newspapers you couldn't help but have horrible stories of kidnapping in your head, or know about all the tragedies that could befall young child. "Brandon!" she shouted again. She closed her eyes, desperately listening for his voice. All she could hear was the clamor of other parents and their children. She felt the beginnings of real panic in her heart. She leaned against a wall, taking a deep breath. Whether it was a lull in the noise, or coincidence, she heard his voice.
"I can't find my mom," he said urgently. "I've been looking and looking."
Lena heard the murmur of an adult voice, trying to soothe him but she could already see him.
"Brandon!" she exclaimed in a voice that was both stern and relieved.
He turned spun towards her immediately and ran into her arms. "Mama!" he called out in relief.
She held him tightly to her for a moment, then drew him slightly from her to hold him by his arms. She glared at his penitent face. "I told you to stay in the dressing room," she scolded. "You were told not to leave. What were you thinking?"
His lower lip poked forward a little. "You were taking a long time," he wailed. "I went to see where you were. Then I…then I kinda got lost…" his little voice trailed off.
"We will talk about this later," she warned with one last hug. She stood up to see the sales clerk staring at them. "You're his mother?" the tattooed woman inquired suspiciously.
"Yes," she said gratefully. "Thank you so much for finding him."
The other woman exchanged a look with a muscular, male coworker. "Umm, can we have ID or something," she asked.
Lena frowned. "What? Why!?"
Again that look. Then the man spoke up. "You know. To show that you're really his mother."
Lena took a breath, closing her eyes and seeing what they observed. A little blue-eyed, brown haired white boy with a black woman. Not a nanny. Irritation rankled. "You heard him call me mom," she said evenly.
Now the looks exchanged were uncomfortable and she could see them starting to back down.
Brandon looked anxiously between the adults. "She's my other mom," he said. "I live with my moms."
Now the look that was exchanged was one that was very clear. It was disapproval. Maybe even disgust. Without a word, both clerks turned their backs and walked away.
Lena bit her tongue but refused to add to Brandon's anxiety by calling them out on their behavior. There was a time and a place for education. She knew that better than anyone. Right now she wanted to finish shopping, and get her son home.
She grasped Brandon's hand firmly and took them back to the boys clothing section. Lena knew she was radiating disapproval. Brandon was uncommonly meek as they finished buying clothes and then went on to buy his school supplies.
As they drove away from the store parking lot, Brandon spoke up from the back seat. "Are you going to tell Mommy I was bad for you?" he asked tentatively.
Lena sighed, "Brandon, you aren't bad. You made some bad choices today. But I'm not going to keep any secrets from your mother. That's not the way we work." She watched as his little shoulders slumped. "I know you weren't trying to misbehave," she continued. "You were worried. Next time you need to do what I say, no matter what, and stay where you're supposed to be. Do you understand me?"
"Uh-huh," she could see him nod vigorously from the rear-view mirror.
"Alright then. We're good," she smoothly changed lanes as she switched music stations.
Brandon's smile was relieved. They listened quietly for a few minutes as the classical music station switched from a Bach's Concerto to Tchaikovsky.
"Lena?" questioned Brandon.
"What is it baby?" she asked.
"Why didn't those people believe you when you said you were my mom?"
Many people thought that children didn't notice what wasn't right in front of them. Lena was not one of those people. But she had hoped in this case, that Brandon hadn't paid attention to the store clerks. "Well sweetie," she said, "It's because we don't look alike."
She saw his frown in the rear view mirror. "I don't look a lot like mommy either," he said. "She has blonde hair and brown eyes and I have brown hair and blue eyes."
Lena didn't bother to list the myriad of ways she saw Brendan in Stef. Their smiles, the way they looked when they were listening intently, their instinct for kindness… So many things that marked them as mother and son. But that wasn't really the point. "Our skin colors are different," she said. "A lot of families have similar skin color. That's what people are used to." This was certainly familiar territory for her. When she was with her mom and dad, they would still get looks, but they fit together as a unit. It was okay when she and her mother together. For many, Black was Black. Going on trips to the store or to a restaurant with only her father, when it was just the two of them, was a lot different. She was younger than Brandon when she realized how many strange looks they received. And it didn't stop with just looks. People would actually confront her father, asking what he was doing with her.
When she was old enough to become indignant about this, her father would encourage her to see it in the best light. "They're probably thinking I could be a danger to you Lena," he said. "If people are looking on a barely superficial level, we don't seem to match. For all they know…I could've kidnapped you."
"Maybe they should look more than on the outside," she grumbled, not even aware that her slouch and the frown on her face matched his exactly.
His smile was both pleased and indulgent. "That they should, sweetheart," he said with a gentle touch. "All we can do is educate people. The ones that are willing to listen will learn and the others… may never be ready."
She was brought out of her reverie by Brandon. "We're just a little different," he said. "Like having two moms is a little different."
"That's true," she said.
"But being different's okay, right?" he asked.
"What you think?" she asked, giving him the chance to say what he thought.
He thought for less then a minute. "Diffrent's okay," he said firmly. "I miss living with mommy and daddy, but I want to live with you too Lena. I love you an awful lot."
"I love you too Brandon," she said sincerely.
They drove home.