Frida nags Meryl to pay attention. She’s being too obvious, risking too much. But her oblivion allows Frida to shine. Frida is quick to soothe Emmanuelle, quick to deliver talks about community values. Emmanuelle peacefully lets the others have a turn when Frida prompts her. She cries far less than the other two dolls.
Ms. Russo notices Emmanuelle’s good behavior. Meryl and Colin ignore Frida’s requests to focus. Frida feels like their chaperone. She feels like she’s glimpsing Meryl’s past and Harriet’s possible future. There are few things scarier than a desirous teenage girl. She only has eight or nine years before Harriet’s body begins changing. The women in Gust’s family are curvy. Boys will look at Harriet. Men will look at her too.
* * *
Co-ed training will continue for the whole month of July. Half the mothers land in talk circle that first week. Offenses include: flirtatious body language, speaking coyly, excessive eye contact, sexually suggestive touching, and neglecting their dolls. Meryl and Roxanne sit together one night, Roxanne having been caught touching a father’s hand, Meryl having been caught hugging Colin too vigorously.
Roxanne tells Frida that when Meryl was supposed to confess, she claimed she wasn’t flirting, said she wasn’t distracting Colin from his parenting, and he wasn’t distracting her. They were multitasking. Her sarcasm earned her some extra counseling and has been added to her file.
“What that girl gets away with,” Roxanne says. She thinks Meryl is greedy. Meryl has a man at home and two men here. Some mothers have no one.
“We won’t be here forever.”
“Please, do not lecture me, Frida.”
“I’m just saying that you’re smart. You’re young. You’re beautiful. You’ll meet someone normal after this. A grown-up. You should be with a grown-up.”
They have this conversation all the time. Whenever Roxanne finds new gray hairs or when they talk about what they’ll do after they leave.
“You’re not thirty-nine,” Frida says.
“So what? Who’s going to want me after he finds out I had my kid taken away?”
“Someone will understand.”
“Oh my God.” Roxanne unleashes a luxurious eye roll.
Roxanne has given Tucker the code name “Beanstalk.” She accuses Frida of thinking about Beanstalk whenever Frida’s attention drifts or she doesn’t remember the exact details of their last conversation. Roxanne has heard that a lot of fathers find Beanstalk annoying. He’s a know-it-all who always tells stories about his one Black friend and being raised by a single mother and growing up poor and putting himself through college.
Roxanne said, “He pretends like he’s woke, but he’s just read a lot of stupid think pieces.”
Frida hasn’t tried to defend him. It would be better if they didn’t speak about him, not even in code. She’s never been good at resisting. She’s been using sightings of him to measure time. At night, when she should be thinking about Harriet, she thinks about Tucker. To be desired again feels like a trick of the mind, but her classmates have noticed how he always searches the cafeteria for her. The other day, she allowed him to sit at their table. He whispered that she looked pretty.
She wonders if this is how romances begin in AA. An attraction based on shared deficiencies. If between the two of them they could make one trustworthy parent or if their weaknesses would cancel each other out. Whenever she considers her prognosis for return, which direction it might be tipping, she thinks of Tucker and imagines his house. The houses in Germantown are enormous. He might let her stay there for a few nights. She could live there while she looks for a job. There would be plenty of room for both her and Harriet.
* * *
On Friday, she walks into the counselor’s office with her head held high. After her second-place finish, she should merit a call. But the rules have changed again. Denying phone privileges has been good for incentivizing everyone. Frida’s phone privileges are suspended for another month. She must deliver another top-two finish for Unit 6.
Frida nearly shouts. “I did everything you asked. I need to talk to her. She’s about to start preschool. I don’t even know what school she’s going to. I’m missing the first day. Do you understand that? I haven’t spoken to her since March. It’s July.”
“Don’t whine,” the counselor says. She understands Frida’s disappointment, but Frida needs to be realistic. Her training is what matters. Without the distraction of phone calls, her mothering may improve even more.