Elise Versus the HSA

 

Welcome to The Spot Writers. The prompt for this month is to write something starting with “he or she started the new year with…”

This time, it’s Cathy MacKenzie’s turn. Her writings have been published in over 200 print and online publications. Check out her website (www.writingwicket.wordpress.com) for further information on her works.

Cathy is continuing with more tales about the Grimes family.

 

***

 Elise Versus the HSA

by Cathy MacKenzie

 

Elise started the new year with a formal complaint filed against her by the Home and School Association and a lifetime ban from the school bake sale.

She sat at her kitchen table, reading the text for the tenth time, while Randy (the raccoon) watched from the mantle with what she swore was smug approval.

“They banned me from baking,” she said to no one in particular, ignoring Randy. “Banned me! Do you believe it?”

“What’d you do?” Jimmy asked, wandering in for his tenth snack of the day.

“I made brownies no one liked—well, maybe they liked them too much.”

“Banned from making your delicious brownies?” Jimmy giggled, thinking, No wonder. Mom’s baking isn’t always the best.

“What are you giggling about? This isn’t funny. Not my fault your father’s gumdrops got into them.”

Jimmy froze, the bag of Doritos in his hand. “What? You put gummies in the brownies? Gross.”

“Not those kind of gumdrops. The pot ones.”

Jimmy stared. “Oh, gottcha. You mean you got everyone high? That’s hilarious. Maybe you made everyone in this town happy. Well, the ones who bought them.” Hmm, he thought. The eaters wouldn’t have noticed how horrible they tasted, not with pot in them.

It had been an honest mistake. She had been making two batches of brownies simultaneously—regular ones for the bake sale and special ones for Bob. The pot gummy brownies were in one container, the regular brownies in another. Apparently, in her pre-caffeine, early morning haze, she’d grabbed the wrong container when rushing out of the house.

“Did anyone die?” Jimmy asked.

“I don’t think so. It was a week ago. I don’t check the obits every day, you know.”

Jimmy munched on a chip. “Well, I wouldn’t worry about it then.”

“But they found out. How did they find out it was me?”

Jimmy eyed his mother. “Perhaps because they all bought your brownies and they all got hallucinations?”

“I suppose. But—”

“I think it’s pretty funny. I’ll never tell anyone.”

“But why would you tell anyone?” She glared at her son. “Never mind. Everyone knows now. Probably that Nosey Nellie that everyone hates.”

Bob entered the room at that moment. “What’s this about a nosey person?”

“Someone told on me, Bob. Tattled. Without proof!”

“Said what, Elise?”

“That I drugged people.”

“Drugged? What the…?”

“I drugged the Home and School Association. And anyone else who ate my brownies.”

“What! My brownies? What have I been eating all week?”

“I didn’t do it on purpose.”

“No wonder my back still hurts!” Bob muttered.

Elise pondered. To heck with Bob and his fake issues. The real problem wasn’t the accidental drugging—though that was bad. The real problem was that no one liked her. And she wasn’t sure why. “Stuck-Ups and Suck-Ups,” she mumbled.

Jimmy pointed at his mother before leaving the room, secretly happy he wasn’t the one in trouble. “Your fault for a change.”

“They’ve called a meeting for tomorrow night,” Elise announced. “I guess I gotta go. Defend myself. Explain again that it was an accident.”

“I’ll go with you if you want, Elise,” Bob said. “I’ll stand up for you.”

“That’s all I need,” she whispered. In a louder voice: “No, that’s nice of you, Bob. But I gotta fight my own battles. This one’s on me for a change.”

 

***

 

The next night, Elise dressed in one of her nicer track suits. Not that she ran marathons—or even ran anywhere (except from Bob when he became too randy, which made her think of Randy the Racoon, sitting high on the shelf), but she liked to be comfy.

She walked into the gymnasium where the meeting was to be held and faced a dozen members of the Home and School Association, regretting she’d had the decency to show up. She pulled back her shoulders, stood as ram-rod straight as she could, eager to defend herself.

“I’m sorry, guys. It was a total honest error. Bob sometimes has gummies around for his bad back. He’s in so much pain that the doctor okayed the purchase. I made two batches of brownies, one for Bob, one for the bake sale. Thought I had grabbed the right container, but I—”

“That’s the thing, Elise. Sometimes you don’t think.”

Someone else piped up: “This might not be the place for you.”

Another individual: “Perhaps you should resign.”

And: “You don’t contribute much of value.”

Then: “You don’t follow rules. You don’t even TRY to fit in.”

Elise stood, knocking over the chair she’d plonked onto. She’d planned to be diplomatic. She’d planned to apologize and leave quietly.

But she was so tired of Gloria and her rules and her judgement and her suffocating need for everyone to perform perfectly.

“You’re right,” Elise said. “I don’t try to fit in. Because this isn’t junior high. We’re adults. And I’m not going to pretend to give a damn about whatever new performance of perfection you’re all competing in this week.”

“How dare you—”

“I’m not done. I made a mistake with the brownies. A real, genuine mistake. And I’ve apologized. But you don’t actually care about that. You care that I don’t worship at the altar of your dictatorship. Well, guess what? I don’t. And banning me from bake sales? Go ahead. I hate baking anyway.”

Elise grabbed her purse. “You know what Jimmy’s favourite lunch is? A ham sandwich and Doritos. Not organic. Not locally sourced. Just processed meat and MSG. And he’s fine. He’s a good kid. So maybe spend less time policing and more time wondering why you need everyone to be as miserable as you are.”

She raced out of the school. The parking lot was dark and quiet.

Elise sat in her car, shaking. Had she made everything worse?

Her phone buzzed. A text from a number she didn’t recognize: That was amazing.

Then another: About time someone said it.

Then another: Nosey Nellie had it coming.

Elise laughed, then cried, then laughed again. But she wasn’t going back. Volunteering wasn’t for her. She much preferred being a homebody.

When she got home, Bob had pizza waiting. He opened a bottle of wine and poured her a large glass.

“What’s all this?”

“Figured you might need something special.”

“So unlike you, Bob.”

“Yeah, don’t be mad, but I went to the school. Listened from the hall. Proud of you, Elise. We don’t need them. Jimmy’ll be graduating soon, so who cares!”

They ate pizza and drank. Wine for Elise, beer for Bob, pop for Jimmy. They toasted to Elise’s quitting the organization.

Randy Racoon watched from the mantle, sunglasses glinting in the kitchen light, always watching.

Elise eyed the racoon. He reminded her of Sprite of the Night from Christmases past. Who put Randy there anyhow?

 

***

 

The Spot Writers:
Val Muller: http://www.valmuller.com/blog/
Catherine A. MacKenzie: https://writingwicket.wordpress.com
Phil Yeats: https://alankemisterauthor.wordpress.com
Chiara De Giorgi: https://chiaradegiorgi.blogspot.com/