“Oh, Nina, so glad we can catch up before the holidays and before I officially join the board in January.” Good Lord those are some killer stiletto knee-high boots in olive suede Courtney’s sporting. They even look comfortable. I elbow Marisol and give her a quick nod to take a look. Her jaw drops in jealousy.
Marisol and Roan slide over several inches to make room for Courtney in our row. “Good to see you, Courtney. Do you and the family have exciting plans for the holidays?” I ask, shifting gears into my polished head of school voice. I know the answer, of course they do. People like the Dunns are always scheduled up on school breaks, but I need a decoy conversation before we return to her assumption of being on the board come the new year.
“Oh, you know, the usual hot/cold Christmas. Punta Mita pre-Christmas and then Vail for New Year’s. We always fly from sea to ski on Christmas Day to save money.”
It takes every ounce of restraint I have to not remind her to pack her Moncler. “Sounds sensible,” I briefly comment to keep my mouth from getting me in trouble.
“I’m so grateful to Winn for offering me a seat on the board. We will be a formidable force when it comes to moving the state of the school forward.”
“Is that so?” I ask Courtney while glaring a hole into Winn’s back. What are you up to, Winn Hawkins? First taking a teacher thirty years your junior under your wing for I don’t know what, and now putting a clingy Royal-Hawkins mother in your pocket.
“My apologies, Courtney, I have to run. I see my daughter entering the gym. I’ll let you know if your board seat is confirmed before school’s back in session.” Indeed, Xandra is walking the sidelines and it seems in the twelve hours since I left her at home, fast asleep, she has bleached her scalp to match Courtney’s blonde lob. Where did she even get the hydrogen peroxide? Fitzroy, you better not have chaperoned my baby to CVS.
“Oh, it’s confirmed, Nina.”
“Thank you for sharing,” I assert, my go-to statement to shut down a conversation with another adult. That one-liner has stumped many a parent in my administrative tenure. So as not to let Courtney get to me, I smile, close my eyes, and think of kids like Jasmine and her enthusiasm for Royal-Hawkins. It’s always the students who remind me why I show up to school every day.
SIXTEEN
It’s the last day of school before holiday break, and this afternoon Fitzroy and Leo are coming in for the Royal-Hawkins winter concert. This is Leo’s first time seeing his baby mama in action at school, and based on today’s, uh, early morning enthusiasm after Leo’s sleepover, I would venture to say he likes a woman in charge.
The air at school the day before a break is always frenetic. The anticipation of staying up late and sleeping in for two solid weeks is almost more than the students can bear. This year, for our winter concert, I boldly went where no head of school has gone since Y2K. I told the music teacher to go for it: sing Christmas carols, Adam Sandler’s Hanukkah song, anything she can find on Kwanzaa. I’m tired of every holiday having to be secular and devoid of ritual. Why can’t we all celebrate each other’s traditions in one big mash-up rather than pretending none of them exists with a placid （read: boring） program. “Silent Night” never killed anyone. In fact, many of these parents pray for one.
Mimi hands me an envelope as I walk into my office after observing a junior year calculus class with a brilliant teacher who, I happen to know, would rather be teaching applied mathematics PhD students at USC. We’re going to have to work on his homework load come the new year, but his love of math is infectious. The kids in his class were happily puzzling over problems I couldn’t begin to comprehend. “Mrs. Dunn dropped this off for you first thing this morning. She wanted me to make sure you got it before break.”
“Thanks, Mimi.” I smile, grateful for an assistant who saved me from preholiday face time with Courtney. The envelope has no weight to it, and I’m wondering if Courtney mistakenly dropped it off empty.
In my office, I unbutton the back of my skirt that’s being held together by a rubber band and a prayer and plop down in my chair. I’m at that pregnancy stage where I’m sure whispering about my weight gain is happening with the bony moms in the school parking lot, but I’m not ready to give in to maternity couture. The discomfort, however, is real, so tomorrow when all Royal-Hawkins families are tucking into their holiday plans, I may be hitting Mom’s the Word for stretchy denim with Marisol.
I rip the envelope from the top and realize a check’s inside, hence the weightlessness. I pull it out, and a quarter mil stares back at me with a lime-green Post-it note:
Designated for the Royal-Hawkins Athletics Department. —Courtney
Apparently, I was wrong. Courtney has just had the last word from our conversation at the basketball jamboree, and now I know the end-of-year clearance cost for a board seat. I take a minute to consider, on a merry last day of school before vacation when every child is overflowing with contagious elation, Am I going to let Winn and Courtney be my holiday wet blanket? I don’t think so. I write “Do Not Throw Away” in red Sharpie on the check envelope and put it in my top right-hand drawer to ensure I don’t accidentally toss it in a compulsive moment of office nesting. Before leaving my office to head to the gym, I take the check out one more time to confirm I read correctly. Yep, $250,000.
“Roan, keep the mistletoe in your pocket and remember school’s still in session,” I warn sternly as I watch Roan peeking around the school gym hoping to spy a handsome father who has ducked out of work early to join the estrogen-heavy crowd. “And I love your Christmas plaid jacket, so preppy Grinch.”
“Swing by our rancher tomorrow for some latkes, you will die when you see the Hanukkah-blue velvet blazer I found on eBay.”
“Just don’t bankrupt yourself dressing for eight nights.”
“Already have.” Roan grimaces. “Oh, there’s Leo! And that gentleman with him is a better dressed, cheerier version of you! Maybe I’ll take your dad on a spin around the gym to shop the local grandmothers.” I give my dad a long look from afar, and I have to agree with Roan, Dad does look younger and happier than I have seen him since my mother died. I know he enjoys being in Pasadena with Xandra and me, but I think it’s his friends at the Y and endless dominoes games that have given him a new lease on life. Roan waves to Leo, then grabs my wrist, and we create a wall to part the mob and head over to my two men.
“Hey, beautiful. What’s the protocol for kissing the queen in her castle?” Leo whispers in my ear. Feeling frisky, I let a schoolgirl giggle escape.
I back up into Leo. “You get one quick ass grab, that’s it. The head can’t be caught breaking the dance code of keeping arms’ distance apart.”
“Ahhh, naughty headmistress, I’ll play along.” Leo’s handful lingers, and I have to physically move his hand to my waist.
“Not in front of my father and hundreds of gossip-hungry moms, you won’t!” I admonish Leo, but then I give him a quick peck on the cheek as a consolation.
“So, this is where our baby will be going to school, huh?” Leo asks, looking around the gym.