The Secret Desires of a Soccer Mom by Robyn Harding Page B

something
fishy about the way she died. I had to tell someone about her affair with
Javier—it was the right thing to do. I could call the police, but did I really
want to blow Karen’s secret life wide open like that? I wasn’t sure. When Paul
got home, I would confess all to him. He was practical and level-headed. He’d
know what to do.
    Something brought my attention back to the
table. It was the girls singing.
    “ Grinding… and moaning…”
    “Okay,” I said, standing abruptly. I’d had
enough. “Time to go kids.”
    “Already?” Cameron whined. “I don’t want to
go yet.” He’d obviously had a change of heart since I’d let him say fart two hundred and forty times in the last hour.
    “Yep. Get your coats on. Go! Go!”
    Normally, we would have walked, but I was
desperate to get rid of my extra charges. And at this point, I wasn’t sure my
legs would carry me a block and a half. Within two minutes, we had rounded the
corner and pulled up in front of Trudy’s house. It was dark, save for a faint
light glowing from the family room. Trudy was probably still lying on the couch
watching TV. “Emily and Cameron: out. Chloe and Spencer: stay here. I’ll be
right back.”
    At the front door I rang the bell
continuously. If I had to, I would annoy Trudy off the sofa. It worked. She
opened the door within a matter of seconds. It was obvious she’d ignored my
suggestions to shower and get herself together. “Hi, kids,” she said weakly,
kissing the tops of their heads as they filed past her. “Thanks Paige.”
    “You’re welcome.”
    “Listen, if it’s not too much trouble,
maybe you could have the kids over tomorrow, too? It’s just hard for them to be
here with me. I’m still so weak.”
    “Sorry, but no.”
    “Pardon me?” Trudy was surprised by my
abruptness.
    “I said no. You have to snap out of it,
Trudy. We all miss Karen. We’re all devastated by what happened. I am barely
holding it together myself, but I am, somehow, holding it together. We have
kids. We don’t have the option of falling apart.”
    “W-well…” she stammered. “You don’t
understand how hard this is for me. Karen was—”
    “I do understand,” I barged in. “I
understand exactly how hard it is for you. And I’d like nothing better than to
lie on my couch crying for the next six months, but I can’t. And neither can
you. You have a family to look after.” And with that, I turned on my heel and
marched back to my SUV.
    In the darkness of the vehicle the tears
poured silently down my cheeks. This was just great. I’d already lost one
friend to a horrible tragedy, and now I may have lost another. Maybe Paul was
right. Maybe I wasn’t being sensitive to other people’s feelings, but I was
having enough trouble coping with my own. I had never felt so alone, so
completely isolated in my grief. The secret Karen had entrusted me with was
overwhelming me. I felt confused, guilty, deceitful… And now, I not only knew
about her secret romance, but her secret pregnancy as well! I could no longer
shoulder this burden alone; I just couldn’t take the pressure. When Paul got
home, I would spill the beans. He’d be annoyed that I had been duplicitous for
so long, but he’d soon get over it. And he’d be able to provide the support
system that I so badly needed.
    But my husband got home late that night. By
the time I had cleaned up the kitchen, helped Chloe with her homework and read
a bedtime story to Spencer, I was exhausted. I filled the bath with warm,
lavender scented water, and submerged myself. When Paul finally popped his head
in to say hello, I was nearly comatose. I barely had the energy to say a quick
“How was your day?” let alone a quick “Sorry I didn’t mention it before, but
Karen was having a passionate love affair and was also secretly pregnant.” My
confession would have to wait. Soon, the perfect time would come, an evening
when my mood was courageous and my husband’s receptive. But the