I park at the school, and sit for a moment composing various responses in my head. Then it strikes me that I spend the most enormous amount of energy thinking of how to communicate with Daniel. So I just type, Whatever, and send it.
But I feel heavy as I get out of the car. I’m tired deep down inside me, and now I have to face all these women. I sigh and hitch my bag over my shoulder.
There’s no other option, so I glue on the smile.
But when I get to the field, I find myself faced with a choice after all. Most parents are casually sitting on the large steps designed for spectators. I can see Janice and Tiffany and a group of other mums I call friends sitting there together, and Janice waves to call me over. I can see from this distance how happy she is to see me – no doubt she has some charitable event she needs to discuss with me. She really is a very giving, involved person.
As I walk towards them, I notice that there are also a few parents scattered on the benches that run down the side of the field, basking in Joburg’s warm winter sun. Up in front of me is a mother from our class called Laurel, sitting alone on a bench. Laurel doesn’t like me, I don’t think. I once saw her roll her eyes when I spoke at a class meeting, and she barely greets me even though I always say a chirpy, ‘Hi there,’ when I pass her. I don’t know what I’ve done to her, but I try to shrug it off – we can’t all like everybody. But as a result, I’ve avoided Laurel when I can.
But today the idea of sitting with someone who doesn’t like me – who doesn’t want anything from me – is strangely attractive. I approach the bench.
‘Hi, Laurel. Can I sit here?’ I say. I feel a bit nervous.
Laurel turns to me, and her eyes widen slightly.
‘Claire,’ she says, almost like she’s identifying me to herself. She pulls her bag towards her to make room for me next to her. ‘Sure, no problem.’ I sit down. Laurel is watching the girls, who are already on the field. The grade 1s are sitting in their houses on the bandstands across the field. I squint till I find Mackenzie, and wave. She waves back, with a big smile, and I feel warm. I blow her a kiss, and settle back on the bench. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Janice on the steps. She looks confused and I know I’ve done the wrong thing – I’d better get up and join them. Janice doesn’t deserve to be hurt, and I can’t possibly explain it all to her. Laurel’s eyes follow mine.
‘Your friends are over there,’ she says as if she can’t see me looking at them.
‘Yes.’ I try summon the energy to move.
‘They look a bit anxious without you . . .’ Laurel pauses for a moment, then adds, ‘Actually, they always look a bit anxious without you.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘Like they’re not sure what to do without your guidance,’ she says. ‘Like they don’t know how to live when you aren’t there to show them.’
‘That’s a bit harsh,’ I say.
‘Yes,’ agrees Laurel matter-of-factly. ‘It probably is.’
I look at her. ‘You don’t like us. You don’t like me.’
Most people would splutter and protest if you said something like that. But Laurel doesn’t.
‘I don’t know you,’ she answers, unfazed. ‘But you seem too good to be true. You always look lovely, you’re cheerful, you organise things, and I understand that you even work. Nobody’s that good. I wonder about you.’ Her voice is calm and level. There’s no nastiness in it.
‘You’re very honest,’ I say.
‘Sorry.’ She sounds abashed for the first time. ‘I am too honest. People don’t like it – my husband’s always telling me to tone it down. I’m sorry if I’ve hurt your feelings – I’m sure you’re very nice.’
I laugh. ‘Actually, you don’t think I’m very nice,’ I point out. ‘You just told me.’
She looks at me properly for the first time. ‘And you don’t mind?’
‘You really don’t know me,’ I say. ‘If you get to know me, and you still don’t like me, maybe then I’ll be bothered.’
‘Okay,’ says Laurel. ‘When should we start?’
‘Start with . . . ?’
‘Getting to know each other.’
I smile. ‘It’s okay. You don’t have to. And there’s a danger you might end up liking me, and then you’ll turn into one of them.’ I indicate Janice and company. ‘You’ll have to sit and talk to us and be on committees and, God help you, buy tickets to Janice’s charities. Plus we have a uniform, you know.’ It’s true that Janice, Tiffany, and I are wearing almost identical outfits, probably from the same shop. My tirade started as a joke but now I’m feeling defensive, and I don’t know if I’m more angry at Janice and Tiffany, or Laurel, or myself.
Laurel chuckles. ‘Well, it’s a real danger because I already like you better.’
My anger evaporates. ‘You see?’ I say. ‘You’re going to wake up in the middle of the night with a mad urge to buy a jacket exactly like mine. And theirs.’
‘It is rather nice . . . So,’ she says when she’s recovered from laughing, ‘why aren’t you sitting with your sheep?’
I think carefully before I answer. ‘Because they need me to be a certain person, and I’m not sure if she’s still here.’
Laurel is interested now, and turns to me. ‘Why?’
I pause for only a moment. ‘Because my husband fucked one of my best friends and now they’re having a baby and I don’t know who I am any more.’ I smile tightly, looking at the little girls on the field running a relay. ‘You see,’ I say. ‘I’m not what I seem.’ I’m taken aback when Laurel laughs.
‘That’s nothing,’
