Page 8 of Mean Moms
Girls’ Drinks!
Morgan Chary was tired of being so fucking cheerful.
She’d been cheerful her whole life. Why did some women always have to be cheerful?
She’d been the cheerful kid, the middle daughter of three, the one who always had a happy face on while her two sisters got to be total sticks in the mud.
She was the cheerful friend, the one who pepped everyone up when they were low, who brought cupcakes when they were sick, with herbal remedies and recommendations for the best acupuncturists.
She was the cheerful mom, never yelling at Gertrude, always gentle parenting, letting her feel her feelings.
Sometimes Morgan just wanted to shout at her, “I know you don’t want to go to swimming today, but sometimes we HAVE TO DO THINGS WE DON’T WANT TO DO!
That’s fucking life!” But she kept it in.
She always kept it in. And she was also the cheerful wife, supporting Art in his career, keeping everything perfect at home with a smile, her one cheek dimple in overuse, sunny and positive.
She’d been cheerful for forty-one years.
That was a long time to be smiling. She looked in the mirror in the bathroom of Thyme a black hole wrapped in an Alo Yoga matching set.
She’d been hiding in plain sight. Now her appetite was suppressed, but her true self had been unleashed.
She felt free. She felt angry. She felt everything lately. It was a new Morgan.
Next up, she had early drinks with the girls—Belle, Frost, and Sofia—whom they’d been seeing quite a lot of lately.
Morgan stripped out of her workout garb and into a crisp white shirtdress, its collar popped up, walking out through Thyme a champagne for Frost; a chardonnay for Belle; and a room-temperature water, no ice, with lemon, for Morgan), the ladies settled into a chat.
The three originals had known each other forever, so this was more about Sofia, as most of their meetings had been lately.
“Please, we’re all dying to know: How did you choose Atherton?
” Frost asked. Frost’s red hair was pulled back into a bun, and she was wearing a blousy shirt in that boho style she liked.
Her face was tastefully expressive, with soft lines around her eyes.
The current trend was to age gracefully, which meant targeted Botox use instead of vials and vials, and lots of facials, lasers, and expensive serums instead of filler.
Puffy and frozen was so five years ago. Sofia seemed to be getting the memo; in the short time she’d been at Atherton, her face had gone from plumped to natural, and she was even prettier for it, like a mannequin that had suddenly come to life.
“I’m going through a divorce, as you all know.
” All the women murmured “I’m so sorry” at once.
“And I just had to get away from Miami. It was too hard to be around my old life there; I needed to be on my own. Our split was mutual. No hard feelings, no scandal, we just shouldn’t have been married in the first place.
We ended up being friends, you know what I mean?
” (They nodded, though they didn’t know what she meant.) “New York is going to be our place—me and Carlos and Lucia, together. I was worried about uprooting them right as Mommy and Daddy were separating, but children are resilient. My father grew up in Colombia, with gangs and drugs and poverty. He survived, providing me with the opportunity to do better. I plan to not only survive this ordeal but to thrive here in New York.”
“Wow,” said Belle. “That’s really brave of you.”
Belle was wearing the prototype of her own The Dress, a nude-colored caftan thing that reminded Morgan of the hospital gown her grandmother had worn when she was dying.
“And I know you’re all wondering how I got the kids into Atherton,” continued Sofia.
No one said a word. This was the gossip they’d been waiting for.
Morgan’s heart quickened in anticipation.
“I fucked that gorgeous man, Dr. Broker. He could barely handle me, but it was worth it for admission.” They all laughed out loud at her bawdy joke.
“What was Dr. Broker talking to you about the day you, er, fell down the stairs, if you don’t mind me asking,” said Frost. Sofia looked away, clearing her throat a little, before turning back to the group with a slight frown.
“Ah, he told me that he wanted to do a little ceremony at the school honoring me ,” said Sofia.
“For what happened to you, Belle, with that homeless man. He said there’s something called an Atherton Altruist award that goes to parents and students who do good, or something like that. But I said no way.”
“Oh my god, the Altruist award! That’s amazing!” said Morgan. Belle and Frost clapped.