A Chance to Breathe

The room was beautiful, bulbs strung along the walls and topiary scattered about for a feeling of clean elegance, but that didn’t do anything to help Alicia’s mood. Looking around, the word she decided on was stiff-- stiff people walking wordlessly past each other, the women gliding on tanned legs smoothed with lotion as silk billowed away from slits in their dresses. Worse, she was with her mother, who was keen to give Alicia an advantage in this new circle.

The clubhouse was a rotunda in the middle of the golf course and offered a view of guests from any point in the room. Surrounding them were manmade ponds and hills imitating larger venues, but the effect in the land locked Midwest was limited. The clubhouse doors opened to the humid, cloudless sky of late August. Alicia and her mother sat alone at a table in the rear of the clubhouse, one without name cards, a table for extras. A spotless white tablecloth draped to just above the floor.

They were waiting for the couple to be presented, and guests milled about drinking cocktails. The mood was set with music that balanced the chatter around them. Across from her, Alicia’s mother closed the compact she’d been using. “Sit up, dear,” she said. “This is the perfect opportunity for you to meet the Douglasses.” They were all her mother talked about. The Douglasses’ trip to London, the Douglasses’ home valuation, the Douglasses’ forebears (for God’s sake). Did you know there was a bust of Hubert Douglass in the library? Alicia noticed changes in her mother, a wide wraparound belt on a dress, hair swept up in a huge bun she called a chignon. “Linda is president of the parent association at Brentmoor this year. She’s the one who wrote your letter of recommendation. Can you believe how lucky that was?”

This world was built on rules, and Alicia hated it. Rule #1: Know the important people. Would school be like this? Making yourself a fool so important people could remember you, the way her mother had people in the club call her Mitzy instead of Marianne? A beat of silence as her mother’s eyes scanned the room. People hugged, smiled. The buffet opened, and a line formed, guests holding white cottage plates modestly in front of them. Alicia stared but dared not get up. She was sure the warmers hid meats in cream filled gravies, potatoes, dressing Things they didn’t eat at home. Alicia felt her mother’s eyes. There was little assurance that her waist might lengthen into the slight, hourglass figure her mother had. There was bread on the table, and salad would be coming out shortly. Rule #2: Don’t appear desperate. Hunger was a kind of desperation.

Alicia shifted in her chair. There were things she wanted to tell her mother, things she worried about. The idea of going to Brentmoor loomed over her, making sweat prickle under her arms, changed her breathing–charged it.

“This will be a big year for you,” her mother continued, “especially starting at Brentmoor. You’re getting older, and I want you to…be careful with your choices,” she said, making a circling motion. What choices could she mean? Her clothes? Her mother controlled that. Her time? If Alicia had her way, she wouldn’t be here, a witness to the marriage of two people she’d never be friends with. Her mind? That was a whirlwind of anxiety broken by rare moments of calm.

“About that,” Alicia said, “I could always go back to--”

Her mother cut her off, waving a hand back and forth, “No, no. You don’t understand how big an opportunity this is. One day you will. Trust me.”

Hadn’t her mother ever been fifteen? been scared? If anything, Alicia knew she would leave this place, and as soon as she could, but first, she wanted to know what it was to speak honestly with her own mother. Instead, she said, “I was thinking about trying out for soccer.” And after a pause, “Shouldn’t I take up an activity?” What she really needed were allies. She was her father’s daughter, barrel shaped and sturdy.

A server placed salads of mixed spring greens and carrots in front of them. The sun’s yellow light burned through the bay windows. Marianne cooed and placed her chin on the back of her hands, elbows on the table. “This is a surprise.” The words tumbled over each other in Alicia’s head, but where to start? “It’s up to you, it really is,” her mother said. “I never thought sports were your thing.”

Alicia took a breath and said, “Me either! That’s the thing—” and wondered how to relay the image of the girls at the park, running in a pack and delighting in the grittiness of the dirt and each other’s sweat. And doing it with stomachs under their t-shirts and acne and untamed hair. She wanted that, to be imperfect and full of life.

“Hold that thought.” Marianne’s arm shot up in a wave and caught the attention of a figure across the room; she moved immediately towards the door. The two embraced. Alicia couldn’t hear, but she saw her mother touch the woman lightly at the elbow, smiling broadly, laughter rolling like thin bubbles above her head.

Alicia approached the buffet, determined at least to eat well. Her head low, she grabbed a plate. Her dress was intended to make a statement, stark colors in a sea of pastel, her mother said, unexpected. The floral-patterned fabric fell two inches above her knee and followed her movement, but it felt clawing, sticking to the navy panty hose beneath, and the wide gold belt was too flashy.

She inched forward in line, and the person next to her did, too, almost touching her. She looked to her right-- a boy, about her age. Alicia glared at him and then wordlessly turned to the table her mother had abandoned, and he followed. She stopped, plate in hand, and faced the stranger. “Why are you following me?” A voice in her mind screamed, danger, that he wasn’t supposed to be there.

“You look like you need some company,” he said, indicating the empty table. He held her gaze. She tried not to be the first to look away.

“Ok,” she said, drawing out the word. “This is weird.”

He broke into an easy smile. He wore impossibly baggy jeans, a gaping hole in one knee. A long oversized black shirt hung over them. The effect was startling in this crowd. He walked ahead of her. She watched him sit down heavily in one of the empty chairs and had no choice but to follow.

“Don’t be scared. I’m safe,” he said. And then, “Was that your mom?”

“Oh,” Alicia said. Now she had to look away. “You saw?”

“Yes. Don’t worry. They’re all like that at first. She’ll get more normal once she’s in.”

The air buzzed with anticipation.

Alicia didn’t want to be rude but couldn’t help herself. “How’d you get in here? I mean…” her eyes looked him over.

He laughed, didn’t seem to take it personally. “Door was open. I heard music. Everyone needs to eat, right?” In a way, it made sense. The club was set on wide acreage. The doors were open. She weighed the possibility of that and felt foolish when he said, “Just kidding. I’m Barrett’s son. I just don’t let him dress me like a monkey.”

“Barrett?”

“Never mind. You’ll find out.”

The boy reached for the breadbasket in the middle of the table, next to slowly melting pats of butter. He made a show of unfolding the napkin, one corner at a time. He reached in, eyes still on her, and plucked a slice. He gnawed at the piece and ripped it until it came free of his mouth, crumbs raining onto the table. Then, he opened a straw, balled up its sleeve, and flicked it across the table. It landed in Alicia’s glass with a tiny plop. Alicia let out a little, “Oh!” and laughed.

“Wanna get out of here?” he asked. She looked around. Nobody seemed to care about his small rebellion. She did want to leave. They got up, plates of rib eye in au jus left behind.

Outside, Alicia let her eyes rest on the grounds. What would have otherwise been an expansive horizon of blue sky and green hills lapping over each other was replaced in miniature by the stunted greenery of the club, faux forest lines, and small mounds sized for a golf cart. But, it was better than being inside. She could breathe. They walked towards a stone bench under the warmth of a sun quickly diminishing in the afternoon sky.

“I saw you in there. You could use some cheering up.”

“Yeah.” She did. “Who are you anyway?” she asked.

“You mean, what is my name?”

“That would be more appropriate. My mom must be rubbing off on me.”

“I’m David.”

“Well, nice to meet you, David. Your parents let you wear that? You’re really rocking the grunge look.”

“I actually have an excuse. Came straight from work, so no choice. Either come like this, or not at all. You look nice, by the way.”

“I don’t think so.” Alicia looked down at her too big legs, kicked the air. After a pause, she said, “I’m teaching myself to play soccer.”

“I think that’s awesome.” His response gave her confidence. She wadded up the napkin in her hand and tossed it, catching it on a toe. It fell limply to the ground.

They sat in silence. He smiled, eyes downward. “Tag, you’re it,” he said suddenly and started running. She ran after David in earnest but was unsure whether he’d let her catch up. When he turned, she reached for his elbow, tagging it, and he changed direction again. She arched her back in surprise to duck him and ran for the tree line, slipping in a patch of slick grass (the sprinklers?) before she got any distance. Alicia fell, a split kind of fall, and ripped a giant hole in a leg of her pantyhose. She wasn’t embarrassed. She was exhilarated and couldn’t stop laughing as they walked back to the stone bench. She tore at the hole right in front of him, ripping at it, and it came off in one winding string, like a yawning mouth. Her outfit was ruined, and she felt good.

“I guess I’m going for grunge, too,” she said.

“Yeah, why not?”

They sat in a warm silence, the kind without expectations. The sounds of the reception blurred behind them in a jumble of unimportant murmurs. Too much time passed. “I have to go back before she sends a search party,” Alicia said.

They returned to the rotunda to find the newly married couple just beyond the entrance frozen in ecstatic silence, the bride’s quick breaths visible in her corseted gown, though she remained still for all the pictures. Alicia and David waited, out of view. Alicia was breathing fast, too, the corners of her mouth upturned.

David grabbed her by the forearm when she stepped inside. “Hey, you’re pretty.”

“Thanks.”

“It was fun,” he said.

“Yeah,” she said, and meant it. “You’re really nice.”

“Think we could do it again, away from this place?”

Alicia thought for a moment. Yes, they had a good time. It even meant something, and maybe she was pretty, like he said. But, she realized, as suddenly as she’d fallen outside, that she could leave it there, like a punctuation mark on a perfect sentence. “No,” she answered, quietly. She tried to make the word kind.  

David looked lost for a moment, his mouth twitching as if he were going to speak, then said, “Ok,” and walked away. With that, Alicia felt her world expand just a bit more.