Elizabeth groaned inwardly at the irony facingher. She was getting away, getting a break. Going off duty. But inorder to do that, her workload would triple. She could do it.Having that carrot dangling in front of her, Elizabeth silentlysoldiered on. Her mood elevation, small as it was, did not last. Itwas one of those weeks (yet another one), where there were severalevents at school. She had volunteered to work the book fairWednesday night, but now, since Peter was not home, she had toeither back out or bring the kids. Since she hated to leave the PTAshort-handed, she showed up, harried as usual, with both kids intow. She had run home after school and thrown laundry in, so shehad clean clothes to pack for the kids. By the time she made supperand helped the kids with their homework, it was time to go back toschool. Elizabeth did not have time to change her clothes and washer typical, end-of-the-day disheveled self. On the way to school,Elizabeth reminded the children that they could only spend tendollars on books, as it was all Elizabeth had left in her"spending" money for the week. She tried to keep cash on her forthings like this, as Peter would not understand this "frivolity."She could hear him yelling, "Don't these kids go to the libraryanymore?" He didn't understand about supporting the PTA. He didn'tknow what it meant.
The PTA moms ruled Cherry Road Elementary, muchas the cool kids ruled in high school. The mothers set the trends.As much as Elizabeth, in theory, wanted to stand up to them, sheoften found herself swept along, just as in every aspect of herlife. She could not deny how much the PTA helped make the school abetter place. They did tremendous amounts of fundraising, whichafforded the school the newest technology. They provided enrichmentprograms. The PTA made Cherry Road a unique school, and Elizabethappreciated it. However, all of that took hours and hours ofvolunteer time. With Cherry Road being in a relatively upscaleneighborhood, many of the mothers did not work outside the home(Elizabeth considered that all mothers worked; some just had apaying job in addition to their twenty-four, seven,three-sixty-five one). Elizabeth was starting off a notch or twodown on the social ladder because she worked. Then, because ofthat, in addition to the amount that Peter traveled, it was hardfor her to volunteer as much was as deemed necessary. Peter did notnecessarily support financial contribution to the PTA ("We payenough in taxes, God dammit!"), so the Zurlo family did not alwayshave good participation in the (seemingly endless) fundraisers.Elizabeth had vowed that with two kids in the school, she would domore and win favor with the PTA moms.
Here she was, thirty-four years old and boundby the same social pressures that had so affected her in highschool. Back then, she had bounced from group to group, always onthe outside. Sure she'd had friends but they were the misfits, justlike her. She had not been successful in navigating the socialscene then, but she was bound and determined not to make any of thesame errors this time, when her children would have to pay theprice. This time, the pressures were not on her directly to shop inthe right stores, to disobey authority or to put out; rather theywere to buy all organic fruits and vegetables and make impossiblyornate snacks for second graders and volunteer for all the rightevents. And Elizabeth knew that working full time, she could notcompete with the stay-at-home busybody mothers who spent all daycombing Pinterest for the next best thing. Frankly, Elizabeth couldnot care less if her fruits were organic. Elizabeth had betterthings to do with her rare free time then carve out twenty-fourindividual oranges, leaving the orange peel intact, carvingjack-o'-lantern faces in them and stuffing them with grapes for theHalloween party. Seriously, who really had time forthat?
As Elizabeth parked her mini-van, she looked inthe mirror and yet again groaned. She should have combed her hair.She looked down at her khakis and boxy shirt. She was rumpled, butonly slightly splotched. She ran her fingers through her hair tosmooth it down, and dug into the depths of her purse to find alip-gloss. Hopefully, she did not look as bad as she felt. Sheencouraged the children one more time to be on their best behaviorand about their spending cap before they trudged intoschool.
She quickly found Nancy Beemer, the PTApresident. Nancy was the popular girl, the homecoming and promqueen, just in adult form. She was, as usual, efficiently runningthe set up, barking out instructions. Sometimes, Elizabeth feltthat Nancy scared people into submission. Other times, she justwanted Nancy to take her under her wing. If she could impressNancy, then maybe Nancy would protect her from the scrutiny she hadpreviously faced. Nancy's tanned face smiled when she saw Elizabethenter the gym. "Great Elizabeth, you're here—" The smile faded andher voice trailed off when she saw Teddy and Sydney in tow. "Oh,your kids are here too."
Elizabeth looked down at her feet, like ascolded child. "Yeah, sorry about that. I'm playing single mom fora while. My husband is away on business, and I didn't want to leaveyou short-handed here."
Nancy recovered quickly. "Oh, I appreciatethat." Her tone turned a little condescending. "But single momsrarely get to play. We'll see how long your children can last. Youcan work until then."
Nancy marched on to the next volunteer.Elizabeth never knew how to feel after speaking with Nancy. She wasone of those women who never left the house without make-up on andher honey highlighted hair perfectly coiffed. Elizabeth alwayswondered how she
