The single evening in weeks, months... She’d behaved out of character.
But she’d stopped at the 7-Eleven, too. It was a busy place in the early evening. This wasn’t out of character, Leah frequently stopped at the convenience store which was two blocks from Briarcliff Apts. The Indian gentleman at the cash register would speak kindly of her to police officers. He would learn that her name was Leah Barnty and that her daughter was missing. He would learn that she lived close by, on 15th Street. He would learn that she was a single mother, she was not married. The numerous six-packs of Coors she bought had not been for a husband but for her.
He’d seen her with Marissa, certainly. And so he would remember Marissa. Shy blond child whose hair was sometimes in plaits. He would pity Leah as he’d never had reason to pity her in the past, only just to admire her in his guarded way, the blond shining hair, the American-healthy good looks.
Leah finished the beer, and disposed of the can in the waste basket beneath the sink. She thought of going outside and dumping all the cans into a trash can, for police would possibly search the house, but there was no time, she had delayed long enough waiting for Marissa to return and everything to be again as it had been. Thinking Why didn’t I get a cell phone for Marissa, why did I think the expense wasn’t worth it? She picked up the receiver, and dialed 911.
Her voice was breathless as if she’d been running.
“I want... I want... to report a child missing.”
I am meant for a special destiny. I am!
He lived vividly inside his head. She lived vividly inside her head.
He was a former idealist. She was an unblinking realist.
He was thirty-one years old. She was thirteen.
He was tall/lanky/ropey-muscled five feet ten inches (on his New York State driver’s license he’d indicated 5'11"), weighing one hundred fifty-five pounds. She was four feet eleven, eighty-three pounds.
He thought well of himself, secretly. She thought very well of herself, not so secretly.
He was a substitute math teacher/ “computer consultant” at Skatskill Day School. She was an eighth grader at Skatskill Day School.
His official status at the school was part-time employee.
Her official status at the school was full-tuition pupil, no exceptions.
Part-time employee meant no medical/dental insurance coverage, less pay per hour than full-time employees, and no possibility of tenure. Full-tuition, no exceptions meant no scholarship aid or tuition deferral.
He was a relatively new resident of Skatskill-on-Hudson, eight miles north of New York City. She was a longtime resident who’d come to live with her widowed grandmother when she was two years old, in 1992.
To her, to his face, he was Mr. Zallman; otherwise, Mr. Z.
To him, she had no clear identity. One of those Skatskill Day girls of varying ages (elementary grades through high school) to whom he gave computer instructions and provided personal assistance as requested.
Even sixth grader Marissa Bantry with the long straight corn-tassel hair he would not recall, immediately.
The kids he called them. In a voice that dragged with reluctant affection; or in a voice heavy with sarcasm. Those kids!
Depending on the day, the week. Depending on his mood.
Those others she called them in a voice quavering with scorn.
They were an alien race. Even her small band of disciples she had to concede were losers.
In his confidential file in the office of the principal of Skatskill Day it was noted Impressive credentials/recommendations, interacts well with brighter students. Inclined to impatience. Not a team player. Unusual sense of humor. (Abrasive?)
In her confidential file (1998-present) in the principal’s office it was noted in reports by numerous parties Impressive background (maternal grandmother/legal guardian Mrs. A. Trahern, alumna/donor/trusteel emeritus), impressive I.Q. (measured 149, 161, 113, 159 ages 6, 9, 10, 12), flashes of brilliance, erratic academic performance, lonely child, gregarious child, interacts poorly with classmates, natural leader, antisocial tendencies, lively presence in class, disruptive presence in class, hyperactive, apathetic, talent for “fantasy,” poor communication skills, immature tendencies, verbalfluency, imagination stimulated by new projects, easily bored, sullen, mature for age, poor motor coordination skills, diagnosed Attention Deficit Syndrome age 5/prescribed Ritalin with good results/mixed results, diagnosed borderline dyslexic age 7, prescribed special tutoring with good results/mixed results, honor roll fifth grade, low grades/failed English seventh grade, suspended for one week Oct. 2002 “threatening” girl classmate, reinstated after three days/legal action brought against school by guardian/man-dated psychological counseling with good/mixed results. (On the outside of the folder, in the principal’s handwriting A challenge!)
He was swarthy skinned, with an olive complexion. She had pale translucent skin.
He was at the school Monday/Tuesday/Thursday unless he was subbing for another teacher which he did, on the average, perhaps once every five weeks. She was at the school five days a week, Skatskill Day was her turf!
Hate/love she felt for Skatskill Day. Love/hate.
(Often, as her teachers noted, she “disappeared” from classes and later “reappeared.” Sulky/arrogant with no explanation.)
He was a lone wolf and yet: the great-grandson of immigrant German Jews who had come to the United States in the early 1900s. The grandson and son of partners at Cleary, McCorkle, Mace & Zallman, Wall Street brokers. She was the lone grandchild of New York State Supreme Court Justice Elias Trahern who had died before she was born and was of no more interest to her than the jut-jawed and bewigged General George Washington whose idealized image hung in the school rotunda.
His skin was dotted with moles. Not disfiguring exactly but he’d see people staring at these moles as if waiting for them to move.
Her skin was susceptible to angry-looking rashes. Nerve-rashes they’d been diagnosed, also caused by picking with her nails.
He was beginning to lose his thick-rippled dark hair he had not realized he’d been vain about. Receding at the temples so he wore it straggling over his collar. Her hair exploded in faded-rust fuzz like dandelion seed around her pointy pinched face.
He was Mikal. She was Jude.
He’d been born Michael but there were so many damn Michaels!
She’d been born Judith but — Judith! Enough to make you want to puke.
Lone wolves who scorned the crowd. Natural aristocrats who had no use for money, or for family connections.
He was estranged from the Zallmans. Mostly.
She was estranged from the Traherns. Mostly.
He had a quick engaging ironic laugh. She had a high-pitched nasal-sniggering laugh that surprised her suddenly, like a sneeze.
His favored muttered epithet was What next? Her favored muttered epithet was Bor-ing!
He knew: prepubescent/adolescent girls often have crushes on their male teachers. Yet somehow it never seemed very real to him, or very crucial. Mikal Zallman living in his own head.
She detested boys her own age. And most men, any age.