“It isn’t Bex’s fault.” Lena replaces the bandage. “I took too long with the blood draw. But, you know, it’s not exactly paint by numbers. I’m kind of funny about needles.”
“Yeah. Of course,” says Rhea. “I know.” She doesn’t.
“Just don’t mention anything to Maggie’s mom, Roxy. She’s anti.” Darby leans in. “She sent Megan this long email about the potential long-lasting behavioral consequences of indulging cravings. Apparently Maggie is still pure as the driven snow and Roxy is very proud of it.”
“Well, I’d put some aloe vera on that if you have some,” Rhea says to Lena. “And I can bring you some turmeric milk to drink tomorrow.”
Lena looks awash with relief. “Remind me to come to you when I have questions, Rhea.” She contorts her body to examine her wound again.
“It’s nothing,” replies Rhea. Though, it’s not nothing. Rhea knows what she’s talking about. Sure, she knows the thoughts that go through people’s heads when they meet her and Bodhi together. Oh, poor thing, I can’t imagine being a single parent. Does she work two jobs? How does she make ends meet? But with natural parenting, Rhea feels in control. ’Cause you know she’s doing all the stuff that good, two-parent homes are doing, plus some. Which means she belongs here even more than some of the other mothers who “belong here.” “You know, maybe it’s worth consulting a naturopathic doctor to offer some advice about what’s going on with the kids.” Rhea is feeling generous. “I could suggest someone.”
“Do you really think our kids biting is natural?” Darby says. “You know, come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve ever really understood your preoccupation with natural, Rhea. Aging is natural and I am deeply uninterested in it.”
Yes, well, that’s obvious, thinks Rhea a little less generously. She looks at Lena and Darby and at the other squawking mothers and it occurs to her: No wonder this biting epidemic is getting out of control. The mothers are handling it the same way they handle everything else with their children, fighting against the organic order of things. “I think our bodies are made to be listened to, including those of our children,” Rhea answers smoothly.
Oh, she knows that look, the one she’s getting from Darby right now, the one like here comes the crazy attachment-parenting bitch.
“The way I see it, there’s nothing wrong with nurturing. Fostering the connection through bodily closeness to raise secure children.” She speaks slowly and uses soothing tones, knowing this might not be what they want to hear. She remembers there had been a reaction when she pushed for a chemical-free brand of hand soap in the classroom. “Maximal parental empathy and responsiveness, that’s the way I deal with Bodhi.”
One of the reasons Rhea gets along with Darby more than the other moms is that she’s not defensive or threatened by Rhea’s parenting. She always looks kind of awestruck.
“God,” Darby whines. Her expressions often land comically close to Lola’s. “You make it sound so simple.” As if this is the worst thing it could be and then—and then, too late, probably way too late—Rhea hears what she’s said.
That’s how I deal with Bodhi. They don’t think—do they think—？
“Excuse me.” A woman approaches, interrupting before Rhea can. She looks like one of the “corporate mommies.” The type who clickety-clacks through the halls in pencil skirts and silk blouses and looks Very Busy. “I’m Gabriella Becker with KNT News.” Rhea’s spine stiffens. “And we’re covering a story about the tragic murder of Erin Ollie.”
Darby rushes to fill a potentially awkward silence, like potentially awkward silences are the leading cause of death in women over thirty. “Hi, I’m Darby. I think the administrative staff would likely be better positioned to answer any of your questions and I’m sure the family—” What family? “—would appreciate privacy at this time.” Darby sounds like a cruise director, but a friendly and competent one, so there’s that.
“Understood, but we’re interested in hearing from parents because of the firsthand experience with the reported spate of juvenile vampirism at Little.”
“I’m sorry, the what now?” Lena’s go-to move is that hard-blinking thing.
“Vampirism,” Darby enunciates. “Like vampires. Some of the other parents at school are calling our kids the Little Vampires, apparently. It’s not very kind,” she tells the woman.
“And they’re not vampires.” Rhea keeps her face expressionless. “I thought you said you were doing a story on Miss Ollie.”
“We are. But the situation in your class is highly unusual and the timing—we’d like to interview some of the mothers of the affected—”
“Did she say ‘infected’？” Lena directs the question to Rhea and Darby like Gabriella’s not even there.
“Affected children.” Rhea sees right through that tone. “Have any of your children shown signs of vampirism?”
“We’re not answering that.” That’s one difference between Rhea and the other parents at Little; they’re all so deferent to authority, every last one of them. “Who called you?” Rhea asks.
“I’m sorry, I always protect my sources.” Gabriella’s smile is a tightrope wire. “Listen. We’re going to run a story on the school with or without parental involvement, so the only question is whether you, as the mothers, will have a voice.” Gabriella Becker hands them each a business card, along with the implied threat, before she clicks away.
They watch her go. No one can even muster a comeback. So that’s how it’s going to play.
“Rhea should be the one to give the interview,” says Lena.
“Me? Why me?”
“Because,” Lena continues, as though this isn’t the most she and Rhea have spoken all year, which Rhea hasn’t minded. “Because of what you said. Empathy and secure connections. You have such a peaceful attitude about it. You’ll make this look—like you said—natural.”
“I didn’t mean…” Rhea begins. “As a single mother…” She veers off in this direction automatically because there are times pulling the card is useful. When she said that’s how she dealt with Bodhi, she meant in general. Bodhi isn’t a biter. Bodhi would never. The thought snaps into her head.
But another is occurring to her. A deep, dark, niggling thought.
“She’s right.” Darby reenters the conversation like a small bulldozer. “You’re so laid-back about this whole thing. And. And!” She claps. “You could promote your business. It’s perfect. You could promote Terrene. It could be really good for you, Rhea. It’s like the whole organic, granola lifestyle. If you package these diagnoses up like that, then that would be so much better. For the kids. And you. Don’t you think? You’re the perfect poster child.”
“I don’t know.” Free advertising for Terrene. On television. Her investment advisor’s voice mail rings in her head. A broader reach. People do worse to get ahead.