Chapter 13: An Olive Branch

Alice

Wednesday, December 13, 2023

Forks, Washington

Everyone told me that things would get easier when I went back to work.

They said to give things time, that getting back into a schedule would help all of us, but so far, it's only made everything that much harder.

Wednesdays are my staff meeting days, and though I'm not sure I want to be home with Evie alone right now, being at work late isn't much better.

My principle has been going on and on about standardized tests that the older classes will be preparing to take next semester, and in my mind, I'm imagining running away to Brazil.

Of course, the moment I imagine not being with my family, a tidal wave of guilt threatens to crush me.

My phone buzzes in my purse that is sitting on the table beside me, and I quietly take it out, glancing at the incoming text.

Jasper: I've got Evie. We're going to run to the store to pick up things for dinner.

My heart falls into my stomach. Jasper and Evie have been getting along so well the past few days, and while part of me loves seeing their relationship blossom, I can't help but feel left out.

I hate that I can't connect with my family.

I don't bother to respond to Jasper. I have nothing worth saying anyway.

"Alice?"

I blink, and look up from my purse.

"Sorry?"

Principle Greene is watching me with an expectant look.

"I'm looking for someone to coordinate the holiday party. Can I count on you?"

The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them. "Yeah, of course."

I immediately regret it. I've run the holiday party every year since I started working here. I'm usually ahead of the season, having the party mapped and planned before December even hits.

I've never not done it.

"Do you want any help?"

I look up at Angela, who is watching me with a kind, patient smile on her face. All I can see in her eyes when she looks at me though, is pity.

It's enough to turn my stomach.

"No, I've got it," I say, forcing my voice to sound chirpy and light. I'm not sure I quite manage it, but Angela nods and turns back to Principle Greene.

In my head, I'm panicking. The holiday party is put on in the gym every year, and all the classes are invited. We have parent volunteers decorating and everyone brings some sort of treat. It's a great way to end the year for teachers and students.

I can only hope that this year, I don't let everyone down.

…

I have to stop for gas on the way home for work. I shouldn't have let it get so low, especially in the winter, but I haven't been able to squeeze it in sooner.

I flinch when I see current gas prices, and decide that I'll only fill up half my tank to save a bit of money.

Once the gas is pumping, I turn to climb back into my car when I hear someone call my name.

I turn, wincing when I see Lauren waving to me from a silver car. To my horror, she makes her way over to me, effectively stopping me from getting in the car and waiting.

"Hi, Lauren," I say instead, unable to truly hide how I feel.

She watches me curiously. "We missed you the rest of our class," she tells me. "Will we see you tomorroww night too?"

I flinch. "Uh, no. I have plans," I lie.

"That's too bad," Lauren says, sounding like she genuinely means it. "It was really nice to have you both in class."

I stare at her. How could it have been nice? I didn't do anything.

"I'm sure you won't even notice we aren't there." I wish the gas was done so I can just leave. I turn to check where it's at when Lauren speaks.

"Everyone is important," she says. "Together we build a network of trust and support."

It must be nice that they are all friends with other good parents. I can't imagine letting them in to know just how badly I am doing as a mother

"That's nice," I say, and though it sounds like a brush off, I do actually mean it.

"I'd love it if we could be friends," Lauren continues.

My eyes are starting to burn. I'm so sick of crying, I just want to get out of here.

"Oh, you don't want me as a friend," I say with a forced laugh. "I'm a mess." I say it in a joking way, but the truth couldn't be closer. I am a mess.

"We all are," Lauren jokes.

I bark out a laugh that is probably rude. "You're not a mess," I argue.

Lauren looks surprised. "I am though. I'm working three jobs, I barely have time to see my own kids, let alone connect with them. I haven't done laundry in a month and the last meal I ate that didn't end up on me was before I got pregnant."

I don't believe her. She looks perfectly put together, poised and charming as she did the other day.

"If this is you on a bad day, I don't even want to see you on a good one," I say dryly.

Lauren laughs again. "You're too kind," she says with a smile. "Listen Alice, I know what it's like to feel like you're not doing enough, or that you somehow aren't enough. We all know that feeling, that's why we have the group. Humans are social animals. We're meant to rear our children within communities." She shifts. "We look out for each other, and it looks like you could use a community."

Real tears are burning my eyes as she speaks, her words hitting dangerously close to something in me that I haven't wanted to face or acknowledge.

"Yeah that sounds great," I say dismissively, trying to fight back the swell of tears. "But you know, I'm really busy. Maybe after the holidays or something."

Laruen's shoulders drop slightly. "Right." Her eyebrows pull together in a frown. "Well, if you ever need anything, here's my number." She pulls a pen and receipt out of her pocket and writes on it before offering it to me.

I hesitate. Part of me doesn't want to accept her number. I don't want this woman, who makes parenting look so effortless, anywhere near me and my dysfunction.

But before I can stop myself, I'm taking the paper and giving her a small nod. She smiles at me before turning on her heel and striding to her car.

Behind me, I hear the gas pump click, and I swear when I realize Lauren distracted me from stopping it at half a tank.

Angry at the amount of money I've now lost, I hang the hose back up and stomp back to my car.

Lauren may have needed the help of her army of perfect parents, but I'm going to be just fine all on my own.

I have to be.