Better Late Than Never

Better Late than Never

“Leah, what the hell are you doing? I called you twenty minutes ago to get up and get ready to go-we’re running late!” Nora tried to keep her voice calm, as she confronted her fifteen-year-old daughter, who was lounging casually on her pillows, clad in bright orange pajama pants and yellow tank top, fingers tapping out a steady staccato on her iPhone screen.

“Geez, Mom, chill out, what’s the big deal, when aren’t we running late? You should be used to it.” The snarky tone in Leah’s response was the same one she so often used when speaking to her family, Nora being the favored recipient. Leah reluctantly rolled off the side of the bed, phone still in hand.

“Please drop the attitude. It is a big deal, I have a very important job interview today, and believe it or not, it is vitally important to be on time. Now hustle, we have to be out the door in fifteen minutes.” Nora turned and left the room, not giving Leah a chance to reply, a trail of indiscernible grumbling accompanying her rapid retreat.

“Morning, Mom, you look awesome, love the top!” Thirteen-year-old Heidi pulled the milk from the fridge, poured it over her bowl of Fruit Loops, and sat down at the kitchen table where Milly, eleven, and Brock, six, were already mindlessly munching their breakfast. The sweet, cheery greeting pulled Nora out of her negative funk.

It was the validation she needed that she had made the right clothing choice for her interview. Her messy bed, littered with discarded wardrobe possibilities, testified to the time and thought it had taken to decide on her outfit; over an hour to finally settle on the colorful floral print button-up blouse and navy blue pencil skirt, cut just above the knee. She was even wearing nylons, the epitome of wardrobe discomfort, itchy and constricting, one step down from the vintage corsets women in bygone eras were required to pinch and squeeze into. No doubt created by a man!

“Thanks, Sweet Pea, I needed that, I have to look my best this morning, I want to make a good first impression.” Nora bent down, wrapping her arms warmly around her daughter, bestowing a loving kiss on the top of her head.

“Milly, quit banging my elbow!” whined Brock, a moment too late, as his half-full bowl of cereal slid off the end of the table, the soggy mess landing in his lap, splattering milk across the table, chair, and floor.

“Oops, I slipped, total accident, a hundred percent!” Milly mischievously protested before Nora had muttered a word. The guilty girl got up, shrugged her shoulders, and put her empty bowl in the dishwasher.

“Seriously, Milly?!”

Nora grabbed a tea towel to wipe up the mess, scooping the pile off Brock’s legs, who was tearfully screaming his accusations, “You did it on purpose, you dork!” He rescued one small fingerful of the sludge and flung it at Milly. The damp missile made its mark on Milly’s shoulder, with morsels of the sloppy shrapnel landing in her hair.

“You little shit, you’ll be sorry!” Milly lunged at her brother, stopping short at Nora’s sudden burst…

“STOP!” Her shaky shriek immediately halted everyone in their tracks. She continued to wipe up the mess, tears of anger and desperation filling her eyes. “Was it too much to ask that you not turn me into the crazy screaming woman today of all days?” This moniker was one the children were all too familiar with, one Nora resorted to regularly in their chaotic morning routine.

To top it off, Leah entered the kitchen, having switched out pajamas for skin-tight ripped jeans and oversized grey hoodie. “What the freaking F, you guys? The neighbors are gonna call the cops.” She unzipped her backpack, grabbed an energy bar out of the pantry, and threw it into her bag. “Aren’t we supposed to be leaving right about now?”

Nora couldn’t believe her ears. Leah’s entry into the room took her off guard, literally rendering her speechless; she did not know how to respond to this rude stranger she had spawned.

Once again, sweet Heidi saved the day, “C’mon Brock, I’ll help you clean up and change your clothes. Don’t worry, Mom, we’ll be quick.” She shot Milly a dirty look as she led Brock from the room.

“We will talk about this later, Milly, I don’t have the time or the energy right now. Go brush your teeth, and stay out of your brother’s way.” Nora prodded, more gently than she felt.

“Can you hurry, Mom, I forgot I told Brianne I would meet her early this morning, she has something important to tell me.” Leah did not look away from her phone with this heedless request, or she would have noticed the daggers in her mother’s eyes, turning her usual soft brown eyes to black.

“Important? What a concept, imagine having somewhere important to be? What, she can’t just text, or better yet, post on Facebook or Instagram or wherever you broadcast secrets to the world these days?” Nora couldn’t resist the sarcastic oratory.

Heidi and Brock entered the kitchen, followed closely by Milly.

“Did you brush your teeth?” Nora’s usual question met with the same worn out monotone chorus from all, “Yes, Mom.”

Finally all four children were on their way out to the minivan. The girls had complained many times about their unpopular outdated mode of transportation. Minivans were so passe, SUVs were what everyone else drove. Nora did not care, the minivan got them from point A to point B comfortably, and could even accommodate a couple of friends. On top of that, Nora could definitely not afford an update at this juncture of life. Perhaps if she got this much-needed full-time teaching job and paid off some overdue bills, she could consider a vehicle upgrade.

Nora opened the closet, where she was sure her comfy black flat shoes were. She did not see them on the shelf where she was positive she had left them. She pushed a few other shoes around unsuccessfully and settled on a different pair, black taper -toed pumps with a fairly low heel-they pinched terribly. She didn’t know why they remained in her wardrobe, they didn’t conform to her mantra ‘Life is too short to wear uncomfortable shoes’ . She slipped them on and rushed out to the car where the kids were waiting, all seat-belted in.

Nora climbed into the driver’s seat, “Sorry, couldn’t find the black flats I wanted to wear.”

Milly unbuckled, leaned forward and slyly queried, “Leah, aren’t those Mom’s shoes you have on?”

Leah briefly looked up from her phone, obvious lack of concern in her expression, “What? Oh I didn’t think it would be a big deal, Mom has like a thousand pairs of shoes."

Milly responded with a chuckle, “Yeah a hundred percent!”

Nora chose not to follow her first response and force Leah to give up the desired footwear, but it wasn’t worth the battle, and it would eat up more precious time to make her go change them. Besides, she had been trying really hard not to sweat the small stuff, even though these little encounters were mounting to become never-ending uphill battles.

Ding, ding, ding. Nora was greeted by the unpleasant low-fuel reminder as she turned the key in the ignition. She had tried to remember to go gas up last night, but got busy and forgot.

“Seriously, Mom? Can you take us to school first before you fill up? I have to meet Brianne.” Leah’s exasperating retort threatened to put Nora over the edge.

“The answer is no, the gas station is on the way, it won’t take long, I will just put in $20. I don’t want to risk running out on the way, then we would all be even later!” Nora explained, refraining from expostulating further.

Nora’s 80s station played one of her favorite Journey hits, perfect to get her in the right frame of mind for her impending interview. She glanced in her rearview mirror and her heart warmed to the sight of Heidi and Brock smiling companionably, watching something on Heidi’s phone. Once again, the pleasant millisecond was obliterated when Leah, who was riding shotgun, reached out and switched it to some ‘rap crap’, as Nora always termed it, music that instantly raised her blood pressure, which she didn’t need right now-she could feel her blood starting to boil.

“Not this time, dear, it might not be in your best interest to provoke me further with your angry music.” Nora’s sarcastically purred through gritted teeth, as she returned to her own song.

Nora pulled up at the pump, jumped out and inserted her debit card in the receptacle. The machine immediately spit out her card and the message, please see attendant, popped up on the screen. She glanced toward the building, threw up her hands, and slowly, but emphatically, enunciated, “You have got to be kidding me!”

She opened the van door and quickly grabbed a twenty out of her wallet and ran into the building. On her return she tripped on a crack in the parking lot and rolled her ankle. ”Shit, these damn shoes!”

Ignoring the immense pain shooting through her foot, she pumped her twenty dollars’ worth of gas, jumped back into the van, and furiously slammed the door. Her children mutely looked straight ahead, not daring to say a word.

At this point Nora could not resist another twist of the screw, a bit of tear-filled pity, with a spoonful of guilt to spice it up, “Yeah, I’m okay, thanks for asking, I’m sure I will be all right.”

Leah surprised Nora by quietly asking, “Do you want to trade shoes, Mom, I don’t mind those ones. I shouldn’t have taken these without asking.”

Nora was stunned by the reaction from her oldest daughter, answering, “I would really appreciate that, Leah, I might have a bit of swelling later.”

They had pulled up to the street between the Elementary School where Brock and Milly attended, and the Junior High where Heidi and Leah were students.

“Good luck at your interview, Mom, you’ll get the job for sure, you rock, a hundred percent!” Milly blew her mom a kiss as she skipped away. Nora smiled, in spite of herself; Milly’s newfound lingo-testing was entertaining, if not always accurate, and sometimes a bit over-the-top.

“You look great, Mom, you got this!” Heidi repeated the encouragement so familiar to Nora, words she expostulated so many times to her children when they encountered epic life events.

Brock moved into the space between the two front seats and gave Nora a huge bear hug, saying nothing, then got out to join a buddy passing by.

Shoe exchange complete, Leah looked into her mother’s warm brown eyes, “I’m sorry for stirring up so much shit, Mom, I’m such a jackass. I hope you get the job.”

“Thank you, Leah, you are not a jackass, just a little difficult sometimes. And please watch your language, nobody respects a ‘potty-mouth’.”

Nora felt a sense of renewed calm wash over her as she pulled away. The morning had been insane, one thing after another. Why did their daily routine have to cause such angst? What could she possibly do to make it smoother? She would think about that later, right now she had to get into interview mode.

She needed this job so bad. She had never had a permanent teaching position, choosing to substitute teach when her children were younger, rather than pursuing anything fulltime. Occasional subbing freed her to volunteer for class field trips, school events, or stay home with sick kids. She did not often turn down jobs, as she desperately needed the money, but now it wasn’t enough.

She and her husband had parted ways a few months before, so she had been living the topsy-turvy life of a single mom, complete with all the bills. Brian was a bitter man, so had been reneging on child support. If she got this job she wouldn’t have to worry as much.

Nora looked at the clock as she pulled into the school parking lot. Crap, 8;57, she was already twelve minutes late! When would she learn to budget her time more efficiently? Leah had hit the nail on the head bang-on when she had proclaimed earlier that they were always late-sad, but true.

Nora glanced into the rearview mirror to assess the damage of her stressful morning capers. She glued on a fake smile, first open-lipped, then closed, both looked phony to her. Unfortunately, she possessed an eternal ‘resting- bitch- face’, and was constantly barraged with, ‘smile, it can’t be that bad’, ‘why so sad?’, and other similar remarks. Even when happy, apparently her expression didn’t agree, and she would answer with a simple, ‘I am happy, that’s just the way my face hangs’, which usually quashed the unwarranted comments.

She opened her door and took a furtive sniff of her armpits-she could already feel moisture trickling down, cutting a path along her ribcage. Good, no stink. She had intentionally chosen a camouflaging top with a print for this very reason-‘never let them see you sweat’, as touted in the old deodorant ad.

She stepped out gingerly, worried her injured ankle would not support her weight. Despite the pain, she was able to limp along somewhat smoothly, though not as fast as she would have liked, considering her tardiness.

Upon entering Sir John Walter Junior High, Nora was greeted by the conventional school corridor, rows of lockers standing sentinel along the walls, interspersed with wooden classroom doors and bulletin boards, splashed with colorful announcements of upcoming events and school news. The sheen of the polished linoleum floors reflected the glow of the gleaming fluorescent lights above, accompanied by a faint fresh lemon scent.  Halfway down the hallway hung a sign announcing the Office, wherein Nora entered, bogus smile pasted on her face, eyebrows lifted to aid in portraying a pleasant demeanor.

“Can I help you?” asked the older, well-coiffed, secretary in a monotone voice, as she looked away from her computer screen and peered over her glasses at Nora.

“I have an interview with Principal Johnson. I’m afraid I am running a bit late, you know how that goes,” Nora giggled nervously.

“Actually, I don’t know, I am never tardy. Anyway, Principal Johnson had to go to a classroom to deal with some students, I will call our Assistant Principal, who has been waiting for you, and see if they still want to speak to you, have a seat.” The secretary lifted her corpulent frame from her seat, with a hefty grunt, and waddled to an adjoining office.

Oh please, please, please, don’t let me have missed this chance! Nora crossed her fingers in her lap, reapplying her fake smile as Mrs. Bosomworth (yes, that truly was her name, as attested the nameplate on the counter). returned.

“I guess they will still interview you,” she lowered her voice to a secretive sideways whisper, “just between you and me, they didn’t have many applications.” She straightened up to her former professional stance, then sat down in her chair and refocused her attention on her computer.

“You must be Nora, sorry I am late, had to deal with classroom ‘incident’-the life of a Principal!” the friendly tone ironically stated, as the middle-aged, small-statured woman breezed up to Nora, chuckling amiably. She wasn’t even aware of Nora’s late arrival!

“C’mon into my office, I’ll call Eleanor, my Assistant Principal, to join us.”

***

After arriving home from what Nora had considered to be a successful interview, she sat at her kitchen island, wounded foot elevated, resting comfortably on a cushion, with a soothing, warm cup of tea. She examined the possibilities on both sides of the coin-What if she got the job, as well as, What if she didn’t?

Her ponderings were interrupted by the ringing of her cellphone. Unknown caller ID. She hit the green button on the first ring.

“Hello, Nora speaking.”

“Hi, Nora, this is Christine Johnson from Sir John Walter. We were both very impressed at your interview, and would like to offer you the teaching position at our school, if you are still interested.”

Am I ever! Not wanting to appear overly eager, she calmly replied, “Ah, yes, I am.” Yes, yes, yes!

“Can you start a week from Monday?”

Better late than never, the old adage proven once again, but really, Nora was going to give it her best to be more punctual, as long as destiny, and her children co-operated…