Being Alive: A The Queen's Gambit Story

Chapter 17

Beth had initially been concerned that she wasn't suited for motherhood, and while she had her moments, overall, she felt she was doing a pretty decent job. Her daughter was still alive, for one. Alma was generally bathed, dressed and fed and, for most intents and purposes, she was a normal, happy six year old. Over the years, Beth had gradually shed her insecurities about motherhood, but there was always one place where those insecurities poked back in. Beth had joined the PTA when Alma started grade school out of genuine curiosity. While she didn't particularly want to be involved in the inner workings of Alma's schooling, she liked being aware of them, and the PTA served that purpose. What Beth hadn't known, was that being in the PTA was a bit like the mob. Once you were in, there really wasn't a good way out.

The other mothers – and a few fathers – on the board were nice enough, but what Beth learned relatively quickly was that as much time was spent at meetings discussing the other parents as the schooling. Each month, they met at one of their houses. This month, they are at a woman named Marjorie's house. Marjorie has a frankly overwhelming collection of porcelain frog figurines, and Beth finds herself constantly distracted by them as they talk.

"Did you see what Lillian brought to the last bake sale? Those cookies were an abomination."

"A total abomination," another mother intones. "But, are we really surprised?"

Marjorie snickers delicately into her napkin. "I suppose not."

Beth had brought her own half-burned cookies to that bake sale, and she wonders what they all said about her when she wasn't there. She never feels particularly comfortable at these gatherings. They remind her of that time she went to an Apple Pi meeting. Trying so hard to fit in and still not quite getting it right. While she wouldn't be slipping out with a filched bottle of Marjorie's liquor, the first part of that is still relatively appealing to Beth.

She stays relatively quiet during the meeting, biding her time until she can reasonably say she needs to be home to put Alma to bed, and then she leaves, offering a small wave on her way out and ruminating on the drive home over whether when they were all talking about the parents who should have never had children they were actually talking about her.

Beth walks into her house and feels like she has shed at least another person's weight when the door closes behind her. Benny looks up from the couch and asks, "How was the meeting?"

"Oh, it was great," she says sarcastically, nudging her heel off with the pointed toe of the other one. "They all think Hilary Banks is having an affair because she got her hair cut."

"I don't always follow the PTA's logic."

Beth collapses onto the couch next to him. "I'm just happy to be home."

"You look tired," Benny notes, studying her face.

Beth yawns wide. "I feel like I've just been running around all week."

"We can skip the tournament this weekend," Benny offers. "Give you some time to rest?"

They both were signed up for an invitational forty minutes out in Frankfort. Alma would be staying back with her grandmother and already plotted out a whole itinerary of things they were going to do together that day. Her parents were decidedly not part of those plans. Besides, Beth had been looking forward to the tournament.

"No, I want to go," Beth says. "I feel like I've been pulled so many different ways lately. It'll be nice to just focus on one thing."