“He peed on the floor,” Kate said. “Peed, Deidra. Stood there and just let it go.”
“Pee washes up, you know.”
Kate groaned.
“Okay, so he peed?”
“And I punched him. He sliced his face on a desk edge and bled like a stuck pig. Let’s add some blood to the equation, and see how it adds up.”
“Call the Southampton County Education Association rep yet? That’s what they’re there for. You are a member.”
“I’m a member. But I haven’t called. I’m not sure how to explain it. It’s bad, it’s really bad.”
“There’s worse things in life.”
Kate rubbed her eye. “Possibly. But you know the bottom line of this whole thing? I don’t want to explain it. I shouldn’t have to explain it. This was Willie Harrold, Deidra. Saying his name should be enough.”
“You could quit.” Deidra perked up. “Turn in your resignation. You don’t need this do-do, pardon my French. I were you, I’d quit in a heartbeat. It’s not like you….” She stopped herself and then got up to get a pack of Van-O-Lunch cookies from the machine by the Pepsis.
“Not like I what?” asked Kate.
“Kate,” Deidra sat and dumped out two of the little rock-hard cookies, “you never seemed to really enjoy this place very much, is all I’m saying. You work so hard and yet you seem so miserable. You could be doing anything else. Having teas for the socially elite of the county. Golfing in Emporia. Raising horses or poodles and showing them in New York. Painting, quilting, learning to stain antiques. Getting all prettied up for your lawyer husband when he comes home. He’s a great-looking man, hon. Why you think this is the place to spend free time is beyond me.”
“I got a teaching degree because I wanted to help people. I wanted to make a difference.”
“What did you do before you were a teacher? You did something with your time.”
“I have a son, don’t forget. And I did some charity work. Giving cans of food to the food bank, giving clothes to the Salvation Army, that kind of thing. I was active. I like to make a difference, Deidra.”
“Is teaching the only way to make a difference? You have to ask yourself if it really is the path for you.”
Kate took a sip. The soda was as bitter as dandelion juice.
“Your husband’s family has been in Southampton County forever,” said Deidra. “Hell, some of my great-greats were slaves to his great-greats.”
“Sorry.”
Deidra shrugged. “I’m not looking for that. What I’m saying is that the McDolen’s owned most of this county one hundred fifty years ago. They’ve sold off a good amount, but still, in the minds of the locals, they are the lords of the land. You married into that. You married into money, honey. Hell, if I were you, I’d be doing something else.”
Kate took another drink, and held it in her mouth until it warmed. She put her can down. “I’m not a quitter.”
Deidra chuckled. “Quitting is in the eye of the beholder. Chose your battles. I wouldn’t chose to go down in a brawl with the Harrolds if I had other options.”
“I care about kids.”
“I didn’t say you didn’t.”
“Kids cuss constantly, Deidra, in case your ears have stopped up. And they aren’t just randomly cussing. They cuss us. They don’t do homework. They won’t do class-work. They sit there in their own little worlds, with God-knows-what brewing inside those heads. Sure, there are a few who listen, who do what I asked, but it’s few and far between. Nine-year-old girls dressed like twenty year olds on the make. Eight year old boys already spouting racist rhetoric.”
“Yes,” said Deidra. “Whatever. I’d quit if I were you.”
“It wouldn’t matter if I did. They can still stick me for assault.”
I ought to quit. I ought to get the hell out of Dodge. She’s right. I don’t need this job.
Deidra seemed to consider this. Then, “Call your husband yet? If anyone can find pull to get out of something like this, you can.”
“No.”
“Damn, girl, get on that phone now while you can. He’ll get it fixed. Not many of us here in this poor little county have someone in the family who has the power to clean us messes for us. Hey, your kids leaving lunch in couple minutes? No problem. I’ll watch them for you. I’ll take them back to your classroom if your call runs over. Go on, now.”
“I…,” Kate said. Why not? She thought. Call him. Let him do something for her for once in his life. Then, “Sure, yes, thanks.” It was a worthless effort, but at least it would get her out of the conversation with Deidra and give her a few extra minutes.
In the office, Miriam was back at her desk, typing something into her computer with a tidy little clickety-clack of her polished nails. Mr. Byron’s office door was shut. On the bench near the teacher mailboxes, first grader Mistie Henderson, dressed in a thin gown with a cardigan sweater, squirmed and played with her fingers. Kate knew this child. She’d heard Mistie’s teacher discussing this girl before school in the lounge. Mistie stuck crayons up her vagina. Mistie rubbed herself against tables and chairs and had been discovered several times in the girls’ bathroom, benignly watching her face in the mirror as she squeezed her own neck with her hands. Twice, she had grabbed the crotch of Vernon Via, the school’s physical education teacher. Joe Angelone, the guidance counselor, had promised to schedule a conference with Mistie’s parents, but so far, hadn’t quite gotten around to it.
“Why is Mistie in here?” Kate whispered to Miriam.
Miriam kept typing, but her lips pursed. “Wearing a nightgown. Got no panties on. Joe found a sweater and some clean underwear in lost and found. Called her parents. Her mother said she’d bring out a dress. It’s been twenty minutes. No mother. I wouldn’t be surprised if she doesn’t show. She never does. I’ll send her back to class in a few minutes.”
“Oh.”
There were only two phones available to teachers. One was on Miriam’s desk and the other was in the guidance counselor’s office. Kate didn’t want to talk in front of Miriam, so she knocked on Joe Angelone’s door. He called her in. He was a man in his mid-thirties, with a thinning brown hair and wire-rimmed glasses. He was seated at his cluttered desk, examining a brightly painted wooden mask, turning it over in his hands and sighing.
“Our new artist-in-residence,” he said, holding up the mask. “Isn’t she wonderful? Her family is from Kenya, and we have her for a whole month. All grades except fourth and fifth, sorry. She’s going to teach mask design. We’ll have the best display at the Southampton Schools Art Fair.”
“I need to make a call.”
Joe rubbed his thumb on the mask’s blue nose. “I found her. She’s from Norfolk. Has work in galleries all over the United States, I understand. I’d pat my own back if I could twist my arm that far.” He chuckled and his eyes winked behind the lenses. “I’ve always been able to get the best artists to come to Pippins Elementary. I beat out the middle schools and high schools every year. I bet they wish they had my connections.”
“I bet. I need the phone.”
“Yes. Well. Please make it short. I’ve got a lot of work to do.” Joe pushed back from his desk and stood. He went out into the office, carrying the mask with him. He stood within earshot still admiring the mask with such awe that it looked as if he thought he was holding God in his hands.
Kate turned her back to the door, lifted the receiver and for a moment, considered actually calling Donald. Maybe Deidra was right. Maybe he would help her.
A brief fantasy played in her mind. Donald, leaving his office in Emporia and driving all the way to school to take her in his arms, give her a hug and tell her it would be all right. Donald, pouring her coffee in the teachers’ lounge and listening with a sympathetic ear, then telling her he understood and he would do everything he could because she was his life partner, his love.