The Better Half(29)
“Dad! Of course, it’s Leo’s. Do you seriously think I’m sleeping around on him?”
Fitzroy throws up his arms.
“Well, I don’t know, Nina, the way I hear you and Chaco Taco talk about who’s sleeping with who, who’s trading boyfriends, girlfriends, husbands, wives. I don’t know where your generation’s sense of commitment and Christian values have gone. Thank goodness your mother is not here to hear how you two gossip.”
I can’t fault my dad for that judgy comment. Last time Marisol was over at the house, we were cackling like two old hens about who was getting sexy behind their spouses’ backs. Sometimes people really don’t want to see what’s right in front of them, but Marisol and I always see it. It’s a hobby we share, and a gift. I thought Dad was engrossed in his crossword puzzle that night, but turns out his ears were tuned to the kitchen.
“Does Leo know you’re having his child?” Dad asks me.
“Yes, he knows I’m pregnant.” That’s the most I can say to my father about my indecision. Any hint that I’m considering terminating the pregnancy would be cause for Fitzroy to throw me in the car, drive me to church, and beg the pastor for a baptism redo.
“You about done playing dress-up? Because I’m going to make us some tea. I look forward to hearing how Leo received the news that he’s going to be a father. I’m missing my dominoes game tonight so I can hear all about it.” When Fitzroy steps foot in a kitchen you know shit is about to get real.
FROM: Courtney Dunn
DATE: October 31
SUBJECT: Halloween at RoyalHawkins
TO: Nina Morgan Clarke
Good Morning Nina,
I can’t wait for you to see my Megan Rapinoe and Giannis Antetokounmpo—minus the blackface of course, we read your all-school email. The Dunn family are professional athletes in the making! I know what you’re thinking, Benjamin is taking a risk being a Milwaukee Buck in Lakers territory, but my great-grandfather landed in Wisconsin from Ecuador, and Benjamin is proud of his family lineage.
Looking forward to seeing you at school drop-off in a few, I will be out front championing the annual fund. Would love a moment of your time to talk board of trustees seats.
Trick or treat,
Courtney
Having dropped my bag in my office and finished my last bite of breakfast sandwich, I make a quick turnaround to head out to the front of the building for my favorite school drop-off of the year. RoyalHawkins is passionate about Halloween, and as head of festivities, I take my job seriously. Today is not about learning. No way. It’s about pageantry, trading turkey sandwiches for TWIX bars, and a long-standing tradition I started my first year as a science teacher: candy house building competitions. Education enthusiasts would try to kill all the fun and link the competition to curriculum by calling it design thinking, but I call it straight-up, old-school, kid-on-kid combat. Why should competitive gingerbread house decorating at Christmas get all the food fanfare?
I’m trying to decide whether I should explain to Courtney that as an immigrant, one does not land in a landlocked state. You pretty much arrive there by any other mode of transportation than boat. And, technically, Benjamin is no more Ecuadorian than I am Egyptian since he’s her stepson and I’m just wearing a costume. My thoughts fall away once I catch a glimpse of Courtney nagging people for their loot on the RoyalHawkins front steps in a full-on pirate costume.
“Argh . . . hand over your treasure for the Annual Fund! It’s a pirate’s life for me! Gold or bust!”
Courtney’s getup is complete with an eye patch and a hook hand. Her costume is notably in defiance of rule six from my emailed six-point Halloween protocol—no costumes promoting stereotypes or disabilities. I bet that hook hand cost her a fortune, it looks like it’s made out of pure silver. Am I going to say anything to her? Nope. That white, flouncy, ruffle blouse she’s wearing is off the hook. Pun intended.
Courtney limps over to me, I suppose feigning a peg leg. “Hi, Nina. You could take that Cleopatra costume right from the school steps to the LA Philharmonic gala. Brava! You doing the best you on Halloween, I love it!” I press down the front of my dress and take a second to consider a proper response to her cryptic compliment. Instead, I let the comment roll off my back. I know there’s not one other woman in this school who can pull off a Macedonian temptress quite like I can.
“Speaking of having a ball, last night Geoff and I had dinner with Winn and his wife, Gemma. We discussed all the ways I could contribute as a board member. Did Winn email you this morning?” I only shake my head no, knowing from experience that Courtney has a closing line to deliver. “What Winn and I could do together would light this school on fire!” Courtney says, pointing her sword toward the front foyer.
“Well, I would prefer to avoid a fire at all costs, you know how sensitive Californians are to the mention of hot flames, but your support for the school is noted as always, Courtney. I appreciate your dedication to RoyalHawkins.” I click my Heqa staff two times on the concrete sidewalk and stroll past Courtney to join a sea of Frodos, Harry Potters, disco queens, and mini–Wonder Women heading into school.
“When my mommy saw your costume, she said it was a good thing my daddy didn’t do drop-off this morning,” an adorably small lion says, slipping her hand in mine so I can walk her into school. I tighten my lips to keep from letting out a gut-busting laugh. I don’t think the seams in my bodice can handle the pressure. “But I told her daddy loves princesses just like I do.” And that’s exactly what Mommy is worried about, I comment to myself. I have to remember to tell Marisol this morning’s gem.