The Introvert, Part Two

 “Take me past the magnet school the kids will be switching to,” my sister says as we head back to the soccer field to deliver the box of hot chocolate to the girls.

 “So this is the poor side of town? I think it is great that you are doing this, it is so, you.” She says, as I drive through a neighborhood of 1930’s detached single family houses with green lawns.

“I don’t think there is a poor part of this town, this neighborhood is nice.” Why am I such a bitch, why can’t I just give her a break?  I can’t stop myself from picking at her.

“My friend teaches at a school for gifted children, and she says it is so difficult that the kids have all sorts of emotional problems, are on medications, need therapy, she says it is awful.”

“Maybe the problem is in the kids chosen to be at the school. A gifted population may come with built in problems, it probably isn't just the school to blame.” I take a deep breath, can we stop now? I’ve got to figure out how I am going to deliver this hot chocolate to the team without having a nervous breakdown.  

We grab my chair, egg sandwich, and the box of hot chocolate from the car and head to the crowded soccer field. It is a clinic today, so there are ten teams mixed together. I am highly aware of the giant Dunkin Donuts logo I am toting through the crowd of suburban joggers. My sister gained a lot of weight after having cancer, and I need to lose some myself. Great, we are the fat people eating sandwiches, and the only people with a chair, nevermind the damn giant box of hot chocolate with a second donut box for the lids and cups.

“Let’s just sit here.” I feel disgusting. I give her the chair and I sit grounded to the grass.

“Look at that man taking; organizing soccer practice, he is an extrovert, he must get so much done.” I look up at the athletic, confident man. “Our husbands are introverts; I have been reading about introverts, it is fascinating, have you read anything about them?”

 “No.” I thought my direct statement might end the conversation, but instead it churns. “Actually, I did read half of a book before I realized it was written for extroverts who have introverted kids and are worried about them. I never finished it.” I am such a bitch. I need to get rid of this box of hot chocolate. I finally see another mom from the team.  “Let’s move over near some of the other parents and unload this box.” We pack up our chair, stuff our garbage into the chair bag, and migrate.

When the clinic ends I hand out nine cups of hot chocolate to nine smiling girls. Anna arrives with a huge smile telling me about the friend she met. One cup left.

"Mom, we have to give her a hot chocolate, I am going to get her," and off she ran. I quickly grab for my old coffee cup, dump out the last splash, pour two half cups of the remaining hot chocolate. I give both the quiet smiling girls a cup. "What are those black things floating in it?" Anna looks up at me.

"Oh, just marshmallows," I smile as a plunk a few in.