Martha Louden was fuming as she pulled into the school parking lot. This was not the first time that she had been called to the principal’s office to pick up Nicole. That child had been in trouble so many times, Martha had lost count. She got out of the car, which she had parked in a teacher’s parking spot, and dropped her cigarette butt on the ground, grinding it out with her shoe. The “kiddie cop” got up from his bench and headed toward her, shaking his head. Martha glared at him and he turned around and went back inside, thinking better of harassing Martha today. She stormed across the parking lot and up the stairs, her colossal bottom, busting at the seams of her too-tight skirt, swinging from side to side.
Grumbling under her breath, she flung open the door, stormed past the front desk, and barged straight into the principal’s office.
          “Martha,” he said, “how nice to see you again.”
          “Okay, what are you accusing her of this time?” Martha demanded. “It better be damned serious for you to drag me down here again. You know, some of us have to work for a living, mister.” Martha said, her voice rising hysterically.
Principal McIntyre rose from his seat, raising his hands in surrender. “Martha, calm down,” he said.
“Calm down? Calm down? Don’t you tell me to calm down. I have just about had it with this school. It’s your responsibility to discipline these kids while they are here, not just to pick up the phone and call me down here.” Martha, red faced and trembling was practically screaming now. “What do you expect me to do? I can’t keep taking time off from work like this, I’m a single mom. I do not need this crap from you.” Martha went on and on, berating McIntyre, the school system, the government and anyone else she could think of.
A crowd was beginning to gather in the hallway, finding Martha’s tirade amusing. McIntyre jumped up to shut his office door, trying to squeeze past Martha without staring at her ample breasts, which were straining at the top buttons of her blouse, attempting to escape their confinement. When Martha turned to follow him, she noticed Nicole, sitting on the couch in the corner. Red faced, she was scrunching down, trying to make herself invisible to the crowd outside.
“Well, girl, what is it this time?” said Martha.
Nicole rolled her eyes and sighed. “Nothing, I didn’t do anything.”
“Then why am I here?”
“Nicole has been skipping school, Martha,” McIntyre said. “She has missed every one of her final exams, and will fail all her courses. She will have to repeat the eleventh grade.”
“What? That can’t be true, I drop her off at school every morning. Don’t you people watch these kids? What do I need to do, walk her all the way to homeroom? What on earth has she been doing all day? Where has she been? And why didn’t someone call me earlier?”
“Martha,” sighed McIntyre, “We don’t know what Nicole has been doing all day, she hasn’t been here. We’ve left several messages and you haven’t returned them. Perhaps you should ask your daughter what she has been doing all day.”
“Oh, here we go again. Now you are going to start telling me how to raise my child. So easy for you to give advice, isn’t it? You’ve probably got a wife at home, baking cookies and cleaning house. I’m doing the best I can. I’m a single working mom, you know.” McIntyre put his head down on the desk. He had been here before too. “Look, Martha, I just don’t have a choice at this point. I have to suspend Nicole for three weeks.”
“Three weeks, that’s outrageous,” Martha replied. “What am I supposed to do with that child for three weeks? And anyway, that doesn’t make any sense at all, she skips school and her punishment is to stay home from school?”
“Martha, my hands are tied.” McIntyre was writing out that suspension slip as fast as his pen could glide. As he handed it to her, Martha was sure she noticed the hint of a smile play across his lips. She spun around and stormed out of the office, Nicole following meekly behind.
Once they were out of the building and in the parking lot, Martha lit into Nicole. “How could you do this to me, Nicole? I was so embarrassed in there. Why do you try so hard to make my life difficult? You are so irresponsible.” Martha was walking as fast as her chubby thighs could go, pulling and jerking Nicole by the elbow. She continued lecturing Nicole until they were both in the car.
Martha slammed the car door shut and jammed the key into the ignition. Silence ensued, as both Martha and Nicole held their breaths while Martha began the start-up ritual – depress the accelerator three times, jiggle the steering wheel back and forth two quarter turns, chant “please start, please start, please start.” The starter turned once, twice and on the third try, the old Mustang woke up. There was a brief moment of togetherness as they exhaled at the same time, then Martha slammed the car in gear and sped out of the parking lot.
“Really, Nicole, I don’t understand what you are trying to do to me.” Martha went on. Nicole tried to get in a few words, to no avail. “What did I ever do to you to make you want to hurt me like this? Why do you have to be so irresponsible? You can’t just keep running away from your problems. Skipping school is not going to get you out any earlier. Look what happened to me, Nicole. Look how I ended up. If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a hundred times…”
“Mom, I don’t like…”
“What, what don’t you like, young lady? Going to school? Being responsible?” Martha’s hands gripped the steering wheel tighter and tighter as she wound herself up with her stress.
“Mom, it’s just that..”
“Don’t you Mom me! After everything I have done for you, this is how you thank me?” Martha had worked herself into frenzy now, driving faster and faster. “Good Lord, I don’t know why I even bother. You never appreciate anything. When are you going to start treating me with some respect? It’s all about you, isn’t it, Nicole?”
“Mom” shouted Nicole, “Jeez, slow down, you are going way over the speed limit.”
“Slow down, slow down, you want me to slow down?” Martha was so angry now that her eyes were popping out of her red face. “How about if I just kill us both? Would that make you happy?” Martha stomped on the accelerator and the old Mustang jerked forward. “Maybe I’ll just end this misery for both of us.” She sped through a red light, swerving to avoid hitting a pick up truck crossing the intersection. Nicole squeezed her eyes shut and braced her feet against the floorboard, trying in vain to stop her side of the car. Martha jerked the steering wheel back and forth and they went careening and fishtailing down the road, Martha yelling suicidally, until they reached their driveway. Martha stood on the brakes and the old Mustang screeched to a halt inches from the carport.
Martha swung the car door open and stumbled out, laughing nervously as she realized the seriousness of what she had just done. Nicole waited a few minutes for the shakiness to stop and then followed her mom into the house. Martha was visibly shaking as fumbled through the door. She kicked a basket of folded laundry out of her way, spilling the clean clothes all over the floor.
“Dammit, this house is always such a wreck, Nicole. Why do you always make such a mess? Do I have to do everything around here?” Martha dropped her purse on the kitchen table, kicking her shoes off in the middle of the floor.
Nicole quietly picked up the clothes, shaking off the dust and refolding them into the basket. Martha did not even notice. She just headed straight for the liquor cabinet. Nor did she notice that Nicole had cleaned up the breakfast dishes before she left that morning.
“I just don’t know how much more of this stress I can take. Honestly, I just don’t understand what is wrong with you. You can’t just spend the rest of your life ignoring your problems,” she said, swallowing a Valium with Jack and Coke. Plopping down on the living room couch, she turned on the television, flipping through the channels until she found her favorite show. Her eyes glazed over hypnotized by the TV, and she faded away, still trying to figure what’s wrong with kids these days.

Copyright © 2005 Anna Clay