Page 13 of Best Offer Wins
She carefully enunciates each word, her smile stretched to a disturbing tautness. I know what this is—she’s not sure if I speak English.
Jack catches up to us before I have to explain. “Hey, Claire, this is our friend Margo. She tagged along after yoga.”
The woman’s already pink complexion flushes redder. “Oh! I’m so sorry.” Now she extends a hand. “I’m Claire. So great to meet you.”
Yeah,so greatthat you can now tell the bitches in your book club you have an ethnic friend.
Penny joins Violet on the swings, and the three of us commandeer a bench nearby. Claire is still yammering away, trying to convince me—or maybe herself—that she’s not racist. “I’msoembarrassed. It’s just that Jack has been saying for months they need to find someone. Haven’t you, Jack? But I shouldnothave assumed.” She taps my knee. I want to hit her. “The girls’ gymnasticsschedule has really ramped up this year, so a lot of us who ditched our help when they started kindergarten are scrambling again.”
Jack laughs uncomfortably. When Claire’s attention shifts to the girls, he rolls his eyes so only I can see. I shrug in response.
“So, Violet and Penny do gymnastics together?” I ask, packing away my rage.
“Yes, Violet’s a fantastic tumbler,” Jack says, clearly relieved to find the off-ramp. “She and Penny met in Little Gym when they were only three.”
“God, they were just too cute for words back then, right?” Claire chimes in. “Margo, do you have children?”
Not an altogether unreasonable question to ask a full-grown woman hanging out at a playground. But it still hurts (especially coming from a pinched-face twat who probably masturbates to the Lands’ End catalog).
“Not yet,” I say, pleasantly. “My husband and I certainly want them, though. We’ve just started exploring adoption.”
Claire again turns the color of a diaper rash.
“Good for you,” she says. “I’m sure Jack has been a huge help.”
“We haven’t known each other long, but yes, he’s already been awesome,” I say, flashing Jack a smile.
Claire starts to say something else but stops when she sees Violet running toward us in tears. Penny trails her.
“Oh my goodness, sweetheart, what’s the matter?” Claire wraps her daughter into a hug.
Violet struggles to form comprehensible words between sobs but manages to relay the general idea that Penny has shared the news about London.
Claire whips toward Jack, her thin lips parted in surprise. “Is that true?” she gasps.
“I was just about to tell you myself,” he says. “Curt got a senior faculty job—at King’s College. It’s a great opportunity. But trust me, I’m still in shock, too.”
Claire fishes two cookies from the depths of her nautical-striped tote and hands them to the girls, which seems to alleviate some of the drama. Then she rounds back on Jack.
“But London is so far away! And doesn’t Curt already have tenure at Georgetown?” Before Jack can answer, she leans in closer to him. “You know Penny is thestarat gymnastics,” she whispers so Violet doesn’t hear. “She’s really been thriving this year.”
This, I’ve gathered, is one of the shitty parts of having children: if your kid makes a best friend, you have to figure out a way to tolerate their parents, no matter how much they suck.
“Well, yes, Curt does have a nice setup at Georgetown, and this will be a very big change for all of us,” Jack starts. “But we’ll be able to travel all over Europe. It’ll be a whole new education for Penny.”
As if he should have to justify any of this. At least the girls seem over it. They’re running back to the swings, cookie crumbs crusted onto the corners of their mouths.
“Oh, of course. I’m sure you’ve been very thoughtful about everything,” says Claire. “Penny just seems very happyhere, that’s all. You must’ve really agonized over the decision to uproot her.”
For fuck’s sake, this woman is like a yeast infection in human form. But maybe I can use this.…
“I’m sorry to interrupt, but I just have to say that I’ve never met another six-year-old like Penny. She’s so confident and mature.” I turn to Jack. “Whenever I’m lucky enough to become a mom, you’ll have to tell me how you and Curt did it.”
His face relaxes. “Thank you,” he says. “That’s lovely.”
“It’s true,” I say. “I just can’t imagine she’ll have any problem at all in London.”
Claire clears her throat, then picks at an imaginary piece of lint on her sleeve. Surely, neutralizing that idiot must’ve won me some points with Jack.
