Here Lies Bridget

by Paige Harbison

  I shook the scenario from my head and started with what had happened with Brett.

  “Okay, so Brett Cooper didn’t do anything wrong.”

  The headmaster drew in an exasperated breath before asking, “Pardon?”

  “Brett wasn’t the one who was cheating, I was, and I just said everything I said because I didn’t want to get in trouble.”

  He looked like he was trying to remember the details of the incident.

  “Look,” I said, “I just don’t want him to get in trouble. I lied, and he shouldn’t get in trouble for it.”

  “What are you up to, Miss Duke?”

  “Nothing. Really. It’s just that what I did was wrong, and I feel bad about it. So can’t you just, like, un-suspend him or something?”

  1 9 3

  He studied my face, looking for an explanation for my sudden honesty.

  “Look, Miss Duke, I don’t know why you’re saying this, but he’s already on his first day of suspension, and there’s really not much I can do.”

  “What are you talking about? You’re the headmaster, you can do whatever you want!”

  I gazed at him with hopeful, wide eyes. He looked skeptically back at me.

  “Do you realize that you’re going to be punished in his place? That this isn’t going to be some act of kindness you’re doing, and it won’t all just go away?”

  I held back a duh.

  “Yes, of course.” I nodded stoically.

  He shook his head and took off his glasses.

  “You said there were ‘some things’ you wanted to discuss.

  Is there something else?”

  “Mr.

  Ezhno.”

  “What about him?”

  “He’s been fired, right?”

  “Mr. Ezhno will no longer be teaching here,” he confirmed, looking as though he was choosing his words carefully.

  “Right. Well, that’s my fault, too.”

  The headmaster put his elbows on his desk and his face in his hands, the way he had when I’d seen him through Brett’s eyes.

  “What?” he said into his hands. I could hear his annoyance, even though his voice was muff led.

  “Um. My friends misconstrued something I said…and really, Mr. Ezhno hasn’t done anything wrong at all.” I raised my hands and contorted my face into an expression meant to read So, really, it’s all just a big misunderstanding!

  “Miss Duke, this is all seeming a little far-fetched for me.

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  P A I G E H A R B I S O N

  How am I supposed to believe everything you’re saying when part of what you’re saying is that I shouldn’t believe anything you’ve said?”

  “Because it makes no sense for me to lie about having done these things! I’m only getting myself into trouble. You know it’s not like me to do that if I don’t have to.”

  He opened his mouth and then shut it again.

  I scooted to the front of my chair.

  “Okay, listen, I know this all sounds really weird, but you have to just help me fix this. I did all of this stuff wrong, and people’s lives are being ruined. Brett and Mr. Ezhno shouldn’t have to get in trouble just because of me.”

  “Well, of course not.”

  “Right,” I said, taken aback by his vehement agreement.

  “Um. So, if you could just fix this stuff with Brett, and then if you could just hire back Mr. Ezhno, that’d be awesome.

  At this point you’re the only one who can help me to make it right.”

  I knew it sounded ridiculous asking for so much, and I knew he knew it, too. But he looked at me and nodded.

  “Fine. But you’re in trouble, Miss Duke. You must understand the gravity of what you’ve done. This is serious. You’ve put Mr. Cooper, Mr. Ezhno and myself in a real spot.”

  “I realize that, and I’m sorry. If there was something I could do to take it back I would. Or if there’s something I can do to help now I will, but I don’t know if there is. Besides what I’m doing, I mean.”

  He looked like he couldn’t think of another solution, either.

  “All right, well, I suppose you’re right. There isn’t much more you can do. But, I’m telling you, Miss Duke…” He looked me in the eyes and held up a finger. “…there will be disciplinary repercussions for what you’ve done. Finish out 1 9 5

  the day and come back here in the morning with a parent or guardian to sort out the extent of it. Stop at Miss Talley’s desk and she’ll give you a pass to class.”

  I nodded my head and stood to leave. I stopped at the door as I noticed that the wood-paneled walls looked almost identi-cal to the ones in the boardroom.

  “Is there something else? Hunger in the third world? Was that you, too?”

  “Oh. No, sorry.” I took one last look at the wall, then went to Ms. Talley for a hall pass that I might or might not need where I was going.

  C H A P T E R F I F T E E N

  The day continued on in a strangely normal way. I spent the whole time feeling like I could be snatched out of reality and taken to Anna’s boardroom at any moment, but in the meantime I had to continue to do everything I could to help the people I’d hurt.

  It rained heavily as I drove—slowly and carefully—home from school, my windshield wipers working furiously to keep the rain from obscuring my vision. Once home, I was relieved to see that Meredith’s car was in the driveway. I parked quickly and pounded up the front steps.

  “Meredith?” I called the second I walked through the door.

  It felt strange calling her name, and I wondered if I’d ever actually shouted it this eagerly before.

  When I found her she was in the basement with Todd, the ever-present interior decorator. He was wearing a lime-green polo shirt with a pair of butt-hugging jeans, and a pair of what looked like alligator-skin shoes. Neon green.

  The two of them were discussing chair rails, and I decided that I had better just head back upstairs and wait until she was finished.

  “Bridget?” Meredith spotted me.

  1 9 7

  “Hi, Meredith.” I stopped. “Hey, Todd. I didn’t see your car outside.”

  “Oh, no, my wife dropped me off.”

  I think I actually did a double take like Scooby-Doo does when something surprising happens. “Your what? ”

  “My wife, Janet.”

  He stood facing me with his hands on his lower back like a pregnant woman. I tried to take in his gelled, blond-tipped hair, the way he said all of his words like they were really exciting—even “chair rail”—and his overall f lamboyancy and picture him with a wife. I had been one hundred percent sure he was gay.

  “Oh, I didn’t know you were, um, married,” I said, trying not to sound as completely baff led as I was. I looked at Meredith who was, I was pleased to see, stif ling a giggle.

  “Going on four years, yeah! So, Mer, let’s get back to re-finishing this basement! ”

  “Hey, Meredith, can I talk to you when you’re finished here?”

  “Is everything all right?”

  “Sort of…I mean, yeah, I just have to talk to you, is all.”

  She stared concernedly at me for a moment and then nodded.

  I went upstairs and sat down at the kitchen table, and stared fixedly at the wax fruits in the centerpiece.

  I felt nervous. More nervous to talk to Meredith than I felt about the fact that I could very well be dead in a few hours.

  I looked at the clock. Three o’clock. I thought, sadly, of how many times I’d still been at school at this time in the afternoon.

  Thought of all the memories I had of sitting outside on the lawn, f lirting with Liam or another boy (though the other ones weren’t half as much fun), or joking around with Michelle 1 9 8

  P A I G E H A R B I S O N

  and Jillian, planning what we were going to do for the rest of the day, and all the other things that had happened.

  They all felt tainted now.

  Maybe I’d been the only happy
one, and everyone else had just been humoring me out of fear that I’d make their lives even more miserable than I already had. I felt like a fool, thinking I was making memories that would last forever, when all the while everyone had abhorred my very presence.

  How many times had they left me and I’d gone off feeling happy while they’d exchanged wide-eyed, conciliatory looks about how dreadful or bitchy or selfish I was?

  I didn’t even want to know.

  But there must have been times where they had fun, too, I reasoned. Why else would they have stayed friends with me?

  Just merely to avoid my, I don’t know, wrath?

  Surely

  not.

  Right?

  I didn’t go after girls and laugh in their faces. I just talked about them, decided who was cool and who was not, and a number of other things that didn’t make sense even to me anymore.

  Then another thought struck me: Was Jillian still my friend?

  Maybe not. I mean, who knew where her friendship loyalty really was?

  I appreciated the irony in what was happening to me. I’d spent years making up for the embarrassments of my childhood and trying to make sure I didn’t have any during high school.

  I had tried so hard to ensure that I had friends, and that my reputation stayed golden. But because of how I’d tried, I had been working slowly backward.

  I thought of Mr. Ezhno and his optimism on the first day of school. And how I’d promptly proceeded to spend every 1 9 9

  class period teasing him and making it all harder for him. I wasn’t the only one who did it, but I certainly contributed to it.

  I hoped that what I’d done to start fixing everything was enough. Not enough to save my life, I was certain, but enough to help put things the right way again. Brett wouldn’t be in trouble anymore, Mr. Ezhno would have his job back and Michelle would, hopefully, carry on with a little more confidence and try to get some help.

  Then there’s Meredith. What could I say or do that would be enough to undo what I’d done? At school I was just the person who filled everyone’s quota for bitchy high school girl.

  But at home I was part of someone’s life. Meredith had had some idea what she wanted for her future. And what she’d ended up with was me.

  Then something hit me. Something that made me feel not only angry with myself and remorseful for my actions, but disappointed in myself.

  I’d spent years fancying myself to be Cinderella.

  Well, I had the story right, but the role wrong. It wasn’t that Meredith was the evil stepmother—I was the evil step-daughter.

  The thought shook me.

  I pulled my phone out of my purse, pressed the three on speed dial and held it, shaking, to my ear. It rang. Rang some more. Then it went to voicemail.

  You have reached the voicemail box of— the recording skipped and I heard my father’s voice— Richard Duke. Please press one—

  I pressed one. The phone beeped, and I spoke.

  “Um, hey, Daddy…it’s um, it’s Bridget. I haven’t talked to you in forever, or seen you at all…I just…I just wanted to say…” What did I want to say? Neither my dad nor I were 2 0 0

  P A I G E H A R B I S O N

  sappy, emotional people. We didn’t talk about our feelings.

  And I couldn’t tell him what I’d learned about my mom. He’d wanted me to believe she was dead for a reason. I took a deep breath. “When you’re back in town next time, I think we should hang out. It’s been too long since we’ve talked, and—”

  I chose honesty “—I’ve just realized I’ve been kind of a total jerk for a while. So. I’m trying to make up for that. Call me back if you want to. Um. I love you. ’Bye.”

  Would I be dead when he called back? If he called back?

  Just then, I heard Meredith’s and Todd’s laughing voices coming up the stairs.

  “So we’ll get started on that ASAP, right?” Todd said, his high voice sharpening on every s in his sentence.

  “Absolutely, yes, just give me a call once you’ve figured out the colors and all, and we’ll go look for the rest together. All right?” She smiled, and they walked amicably to the front door.

  I watched as Meredith said goodbye and closed the door.

  There was an abrupt change in the atmosphere. The kind that always happens when the door closes on a guest and there’s someone waiting for an argument or a conversation on the other side.

  She strode into the kitchen toward the refrigerator.

  “You want one?” She asked, holding up a pink Vitaminwater. Connect.

  “Yeah, sure.” I was feeling all of those things that sick or elderly people must feel when they’re coming to the end of their lives. They must wonder if this will be the last time they see their grandchildren. Or if they’re having their own last supper. Here I was, wondering if this was going to be my last fruity drink.

  Meredith grabbed one for me and one for herself and pulled out the chair next to mine.

  2 0 1

  “You said you wanted to talk?”

  Here it was.

  “Yeah…okay, so I’m just going to launch right into my apology.” I watched a crease come and go between her eyebrows after I said the last word. I took a deep breath. “So. I’ve been awful. For, like, the whole time I’ve known you. And it’s not fair, I’m sorry.”

  Her expression was cautious. Dubious. “Bridget, where is this coming from?”

  “Just that I know that I’ve been really mean to you. I can’t undo everything I’ve ever said or done. And I really, truly don’t expect you to accept my apology. But everything you said the other day was right. I can’t act this way, and it’s true that I’ve been acting really immaturely. Even cruel.”

  “Well,

  I—”

  “Just don’t say anything for a minute, okay? Please? Not like, because I don’t care, but I have to just say what I’m saying before I lose my nerve, or my thoughts.” Or my life.

  Meredith agreed, looking bemused. I drew in several deep breaths, as I tried to think of how to explain what I was feeling.

  “I realize now that you have been nothing but kind to me, and that all you’ve gotten in return is…me. And that’s not fair; I’ve been such a jerk. I don’t know what it is, but I’ve been sort of working things out in my life and I just want you to believe me when I say that it’s not just you I’ve treated this way. It’s not that I’ve ever thought or think now that there’s anything wrong with you. You’ve been a great mother.”

  The burning sensation that indicates that tears are on their way had started about halfway through my speech.

  Meredith’s face had since softened, and she was now looking sympathetically at me.

  “Bridget, honey, don’t cry. It’s okay, I understand.”

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  P A I G E H A R B I S O N

  “How could you understand? How can you accept my apology after how I’ve behaved?” My voice was pleading.

  Meredith laughed. “Because I can tell that you mean it.

  There have been moments in our time together where I’ve believed I was seeing the real you. Do you remember when I picked you up from Outdoor Ed?”

  I

  nodded.

  “That was one of them,” she said. “I knew you weren’t trying to pull that trick on Michelle, that’s why I never told your father. Although it turned out the camp director called him anyway.” I felt my cheeks grow hot as she went on. “And I know that you’ve been sorting out who you want to be for a while.”

  “But I’ve been such a bitch!” I said the words with the same tone of disbelief an outsider might use after watching me for a while. Which was kind of how I felt.

  “Listen, if you really want to change—and we all have to at different points in our lives—then just do it. And don’t spend time worrying about whether or not the rest of the world is going to forgive you. Even if nobody you know wants to forgive you, you’ll find new people. And you’ll treat those people the
way you’ve learned to.”

  The tears became harder to hold back as I listened to her speak. She was so much more compassionate than I could ever have been in a situation like this.

  “Okay.” I sniff led.

  “And Bridget? I totally thought Todd was gay until he showed up today with his wife.”

  “Right?” I gave a small laugh, and hung in that middle area between crying and laughing for a few minutes.

  When I finally shook off the tears and simply sat there with puffy eyes, she told me that she had to run over to the store and asked if I’d like to come.

  2 0 3

  “Sure,” I said, feeling genuinely excited to spend some nice time with her.

  She smiled and told me that she just had to go change, and that she’d be back down in a minute.

  I felt really happy to have her there. I didn’t know anyone else who would have been that understanding about what I’d done. All the damage I’d caused. And she was good-natured enough to let bygones be just that. It takes a really, really strong person to do that.

  As I washed my face of the tears and heavy mascara—which was all over my face—I felt really sorry. Not just because of everything I’d done, but also because I wished I had more time to fix it. I was going to be dead in only a few hours, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

  Meredith and I went to the grocery store and ambled around, picking up some vegetables, milk and other boring groceries that always seemed to be on the don’t-forget-to-buy list. But I’d never felt more appreciative of the little things.

  We were passing an endcap when I heard Meredith coo.

  “Ooh, you know what would be awesome on a day like this? Fondue.”

  My mental jaw dropped at the suggestion. Meredith had meant on a cold, rainy day like this. But she didn’t know what kind of day it was for me, or how right she was that it was exactly what we needed.

  “Yeah,

  definitely.”

  Meredith tossed two boxes in the cart and grabbed two baguettes, saying, “Always better to have more than is healthy or necessary.”