Page 7 of The PTA President
“So, what does the head of the PTA do on a Sunday afternoon?” she asks, setting her bag down to sip her coffee.
“You’re looking at it.” I point to the nearest booth. “Normally, my girls are with me, but they’re spending time with my sister.”
A cozy couple walks by, holding hands, each of them laughing before sitting at a table across from us. They’re sharing a sandwich and haven’t stopped talking since they sat down. Istare for a while before I hear Natalie cough, and feel her nudge my side.
“So, how long have you been divorced?” She keeps her hand planted next to my hip on the bench. Something about the contact makes me feel comforted, like I’m spending time with a friend I’ve known forever. It’s strange how one minute she feels completely out of my league and the next I’m already planning our next outing.
“Just shy of a year, but he moved out before things were official. I’ve been on my own with the girls for about eighteen months.” I purse my lips and squeeze my coffee cup tight.
“Hmm.” She eyes me up and down. “His loss.” Turning away from me, she pulls out her phone. “What’s your number? I’ll call you so you can have mine saved. I’ve gotta get going, but I’d love to hang out again.”
Wow, that’s forward. I can’t remember the last time someone asked me to hang out. The ladies from school come over for book club, but we’ve never met up for lunch or coffee before. My palms begin to sweat just as my leg starts uncontrollably twitching.This is so embarrassing. She’s being polite while I make a complete fool out of myself.
Resting her hand on mine, she leans in. “It’s not that serious, you’re cool, and I just moved here and don’t know anyone. I would love to stay and keep pounding nature's candy, but I’ve got a show to get to.”
“A show?” I ask, grabbing my phone she moves quickly, typing her number, and handing it back before I’ve blinked.
“Yeah, Taking Back Sunday’s playing at this little concert house. I’ve seen them like three times, but what can I say? I’m addicted. You could come with me?”
Her invitation catches me off guard, and I blink as I try to recall the name of the band. “That’s really nice of you,” I say too quickly. “Maybe another time, it’s a school night after all.”
“You’re notinschool. Is your mom at your house waiting to remind you of curfew?” Her nose scrunches up.
“No.” I giggle, gently pushing her away. “My girls have a routine, and I’m pretty strict with it. I’ll see you at tomorrow’s meeting, right?”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” She raises her brows, throwing her phone back into her bag and grabs her purchases.
I’ve never felt more ill-equipped for a friendship. Has it been so long since I’ve talked to anyone outside of my neighborhood or the school? Obviously, I need a refresher course because Natalie’s going to drop me like a bad habit if I can’t get my foot out of my mouth.
Once I throw away the empty coffee cup, she comes in for a hug. Her body wraps around mine, she’s warm and smells of an earthy mixture, I can’t put my finger on. “Have fun with your kids tonight. I’ll call you later to tell you all about the band,” she says.
Okay, so maybe I didn’t scare her off. Court and my girls are more musically inclined. Crossing my fingers, I hope one of them can download some songs so I’ll have a conversation piece.
ChaptEr 5
Natalie
Nat:What's up prez? Anything wild go down last night that I missed out on??
Candace: Definitely not, the girls and I were in bed by nine.
Nat: Boring! :) Next time you have to come out with me. The band was amazing!
Candace: I’ve actually never been to a concert.
Nat: You’ve never been to a concert!?! We are so popping that cherry!
Nat:Blink-182 coming next month…but you seem more like a Coldplay or Death Cab fan.
Candace:No idea what any of that means, but it sounds fun.
Nat:Hey what’s your favorite donut?
Candace: I don’t eat a lot of sweets, but I guess glazed.
The next morning, my phone’s plastered to my face as I try to wake up. The Prez was smart for calling it an early night. This hangover is so strong it feels like my teeth rotted inside my brain.
“This place is fucking rank.” Megan–my sister from another mister–sneers as she strolls in without knocking. Her oversized black shirt hangs off her like it belongs to someone else, it’s clearly laundry day.
