Worst things about Laurel:

Her fat arms

Her little voice

The fleshy rolls distending the smocked corduroy of her ugly green jumper

That her little girl voice might be affected

How the tight white cotton sleeves of her turtleneck make her biceps look like fat ankles in tube socks

Her fat ankles

That her little girl voice might be authentic

That she believes we are still friends

That she and I were friends

That she knew me in college

That she has not changed since college, perhaps even her underwear 

That she does not improve, she only expands

That I can see sweat stains at the creased pit where her fat arms meet her fat body

That she sat beside me during the keynote

That one of her arms touches mine when she leans over to fog me in her rotten garlic and tea breath when she whispers, this man has no training in education all hot on my cheek, actual goosebumps, shivers down to my ankles, thin, sculpted, wrapped in nude Sheer Energy control top, even though I’m trim, down forty pounds, praise Jesus and Jane Fonda, thanks to Slimfast and Margo at SpAwesome Fitness on Bicentennial Boulevard

That she pauses as if I anticipating I’ll reply

That she doesn’t seem to notice how much weight I’ve lost

That she looked sad while she said you cut your hair when I came into work back in the fall, and did not agree when I touched the permed edges and said, isn’t it incredible, because it is incredible and fashionable and bouncy and blonde and makes me look ten years younger and a little like Mary Kay Place in The Big Chill whose photo I took to Maureen and said make me look like someone you could fear and adore and not like like Laurel’s aging hippie witch hair with streaks like she’s never seen a hot oil treatment, bless her heart and someone really needs to sit down with her and explain that she’s not 21 anymore and it’s not 1970 and we’re living in the eighties, by god, the 1980s, and no one has time for her free to be you and me nonsense even though that may work with her first graders and no wonder she’s still a first grade teacher and I’m principal now and Susan the last principal is in the superintendent’s office and if I play my cards right I’ll be there soon and then maybe State Legislature because Bob said we’re in a new era and school board ladies are electable especially ones with such glamorous and professional appearances who are not afraid to present their assets, if you know what I mean, and of course I did and laughed when he touched my new toned butt and said, cutey-patootey, because he’d been drinking scotch like the powerful men in the back room at the Grille and I’d even had one with a lot of water because calories and if I work way too hard he might help that ass get elected into state government and from there who knows and none of this would have been possible without the new hair and Laurel can go to hell if she doesn’t appreciate how hard I worked for this. 

Her hair

Her laziness

Her ignorance

Her lack of respect when she leans in again and says, I feel like Bob is out of his depth here, when she’s in the view of Bob speaking and her breath might melt off my foundation, which is Chanel that I drove all the way to Atlanta to buy it at Neiman’s’ because I deserved to treat myself after how hard I worked on my truest self and my truest demanded a new suit, Donna Karen, and matching heels that make me almost 5’4 and not quite but almost up to Laurel’s ding dong monster Quasimodo shoulders and I’m trying hard to wipe my face so Bob doesn’t see me doing anything other than giving him the rapt attention he deserves because they say he has the ear of the senators and maybe I’ll take you with me up DC sometime, Sandy, see the cherry trees, maybe meet the president would you like to meet the president and I know what he’s getting at because Bob is married but I am divorced and I would like to meet powerful people like Sandra Day O’Connor who almost has the same name as me because I’m Sandra Davis O’Connell and what a coincidence because I find her success personally moving and she would certainly understand why it’s important for me to distance myself from people like Laurel who will only bring me down in the long run not the least because she keeps trying to elbow me so I might pay attention and no, Laurel, I will not pay attention

Her scaly elbow

Her ugly shoes

Her freakish thighs so long and wide they manifest their own destiny on their metal edge of my chair and I do not want her corduroy to touch my wool blend because who knows what sticky-fingered filth lurks in those tiny canyons of fabric even beneath the visible crumbs and cat hair that signify her desperate despicable lonely life since her husband left which anyone could predict even though her ex himself was a sad vested ponytail only desirable before the opening notes of the Who’s opening number when they played Raleigh in 1971 and he turned and offered me a joint with a grin almost handsome in the anticipatory stadium semi-darkness and said, breaking the rules makes you sexy, Sandra and I was horrified of course but something in the seconds of inhale made me think he might actually prefer me to Laurel because even then when I was still too soft and too unrefined I was almost certainly a better partner and surely he recognized that I was because unlike Laurel I didn’t throw myself around I had fun for sure but kept my legs together because I knew my value and Laurel was just a desperate fat slut with her fake voice and her lazy armpits and even though we’re both single now at least I have children at home and Tiffany and Reid were gifted and my husband left me standing on renovated marble floors and didn’t even quibble about child support even if he did leave me for a dog walker named Cheryl with a set of tits so artificial they might have been an Epcot attraction and I didn’t even need a boob job to firm up my own even after two kids because I take care of myself and even Bob said that after our last meeting with the school board I can’t tell you how comforting it is to see an ambitious woman with kids who still knows how to take care of herself and I doubt a man has even so much as looked at Laurel in years except to wonder if she is mentally ill because you would have to mentally ill to go out in public in those shoes

That she thinks it is okay to go out in public in those shoes

That her leg touches mine again and it makes my thighs sweat and I can feel my spandex legs against the airless waste of my nylon skirt and the roll the tiny roll that I cannot unfeel threatening to balloon over the waistband of my skirt and now I think about the number of sit-ups required to tame the loose flesh from childbirth and the years I forgot to work on myself and remember that success depends on committing to discomfort for long enough that the pain becomes a signal that you are winning

That she is losing

That she is causing me to lose track of the important things that Bob is saying about the district and the curriculum and the necessity of cut, cut, cutting expenses while we increase, increase, increase achievement so our children may be more competitive in this world and those who do not see how our future requires both should consider a new career driving unicorns in leprechaun land and that is a joke so I giggle but in a way that’s both demure and visible so Bob will know that I know what he’s talking about and agree absolutely

That Laurel doesn’t laugh

That she doesn’t stand when Bob finishes his speech and thanks the crowd 

That she doesn’t even applaud just slumps back belly forward beached whale style with legs splayed under her voluminous skirt and sighs to me and winks at me with a can’t believe they let they asshole go on as long as he did and I think it would not be hard to get Laurel fired and that makes a tinge of satisfaction so profound as I stand over her that I almost get hungry 

That she makes me hungry

Her appetite

That she hovers behind me as I scoot past the chairs, into the aisle, and lurks behind, hardly making eye contact as I shake hands with our fellow educators, with state officials, with keynote speakers, with people of importance

That she doesn’t care

That she doesn’t leave

That she still trails behind me when we step into the lobby and asks if I need any help unloading my luggage from my car to our hotel room

That we are sharing a hotel room

That she looks disappointed when I tell her I’m going to meet Bob for drinks at Benihana

That she doesn’t want to come with me

That she smiles and says she brought me a present, a little nostalgic gift from times past, as we walk out into the evening

That she pulls away from the door to give it to me. 

That she opens her purse

Her tacky brocade purse

That she keeps so much stuff in her tacky brocade bag as to required fishing around pulling out old stacks of paper and cards and candywrappers and ugly brown lipsticks and keys and notebooks until she arrives at a black velvet ring box

That I know the ring box holds the wedding ring she no longer wears and it just shows how delusional she is to hold on to it because probably almost certainly for sure believes by having it near her it might lure him back from wherever he went with Cheryl and her boobs and the car that was supposed to be our car and the life that was supposed to be our life

That she irritates me so much I forget I’m talking about her and not me

That she reminds me I also keep my wedding ring in a velvet box in the bottom of my purse because we both admitted to it late one night on the phone after the kids went to bed and cried about how pathetic we were

That she’s the one I call late at night after the kids go to bed

That when she opens the box I see the ring and remember her wedding and that it was in her parents backyard in Greensboro and we wore Gunne Sax dresses with tiered ruffles and matching bows and no shoes and the grass felt like goosedown under our feet and I felt angry that she got married first but relieved that my fiancé was in the audience and waiting for me even though he never looked at me the way Laurel’s ex-husband looked at her and I told her I was happy for her and meant it maybe as much as she did when she said the same at my wedding six months later when my bridesmaids wore picture hats and lavender chiffon and the color was beautiful on Laurel and I told her so

That she never wears lavender or chiffon 

That she pops out the satin inset with the ring and shows me the baggie underneath with what might have been just enough flour to bake a birthday cake for a dollhouse

That she assumes I know it is not flour

That she asks if I want to do a line in with her in the bathroom before I meet Bob at the bar at Benihana

That she knows me so well

That I will always say yes