Certainly Sensible

by Pamela Woods-Jackson

  Susan groaned in frustration. “Emily, it’s Susan, and this is an extreme emergency! You’ve got to call me back immediately!” She hung up the phone and hoped she didn’t sound too desperate, when in fact she was very desperate. She sank back into the tub and tried to relax in the bubbles.

  After three daughters and twenty-one years of being Daniel’s supportive wife—managing charity events, doing volunteer work, and then finding private schools for the girls with their various talents—what did she have to show for it? A divorce, a large house she was about to be evicted from, no career, no direction in her life, and now she had to deliver the bad news to her girls. Daniel had dumped that on her, too. Caroline would be home from work soon, but Allie was still at school up in Chicago, finishing her final music exams.

  The piano! What are we going to do about the piano? They’d be forced to downsize, so wherever they moved, there would be no room to put such a large instrument. The thought that Allison would have to give up her beloved grand piano gave Susan a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. Allie’s whole life was her music, ever since she was a little girl and got one of those toy pianos for Christmas. Susan and Daniel had laughed at their little Schroeder, like in the Peanuts cartoon, but it turned out their middle daughter actually had talent. A few years later, Susan arranged for private piano lessons, and Allie showed signs of being a musical prodigy. And now what will happen to my daughter’s career ambitions?

  Susan fought back tears. She wished Emily would hurry and call her back. Her friend might be able to help solve the housing problem at least.

  Where are we going to live? Can I even afford a house? Will we have to move to an apartment?

  She shuddered at that thought, and as if in response to the chill, ran more hot water into the bath. The immediate future looked bleak, and Susan needed the help and advice that her best friend would certainly give her.

  If I find a house, will all four of us be able to fit? And where will Megan and Allie attend school? Why didn’t I listen to my attorney when she tried to warn me?

  Susan collapsed back into the bubbles, but just as she was about to relax, her phone buzzed. She sat up and grabbed for it.

  “Susan, for heaven’s sake, what’s the big emergency?”

  “Oh, Emily, thank God. I’m in a panic!”

  “So I gathered,” Emily said. “Do you mind telling me why?”

  Susan took a deep breath. “Daniel was here.”

  “That doesn’t sound good.”

  “It’s the worst, Em. He and Sharlene got married.”

  There was a pause on Emily’s end. “And that’s what you’re upset about? He’s been carrying on with her for years.”

  “No, it’s not about that. Well, a little, but it gets worse.”

  “With Sharlene involved, I can only imagine.”

  ****

  Caroline threw her handbag and car keys on the breakfast table, set the pizza on the kitchen cabinet, and ran up the stairs to Megan’s room. She didn’t even bother knocking, but Megan didn’t notice anyway because she had her eyes closed, listening to music on her iPad.

  “Megan!” Caroline pulled the ear-buds out of her sister’s ears.

  Megan sat up. “Hey! Why’d you do that? And where’s the pizza?”

  Caroline took her jacket off and tossed it on her sister’s bed. “Megan, please. What’s wrong with Mom?”

  Megan shrugged. “I don’t know, but Dad was here earlier, and Mom was crying when I got home from school.”

  Caroline took a deep breath to ease the queasiness in her stomach. Despite her dread, she piloted Megan down the hall to their mother’s bedroom and gently knocked on the door. “Mom?” Poking her head in the door, she saw her mom lying in the middle of the king-sized bed, down comforter askew, wearing old jeans and a t-shirt, her hair still wet and uncombed from the bath. The TV was on and blaring. Susan lay on her back pretending to watch, but she was really just staring at the ceiling. Caroline grabbed the remote and turned the set off.

  “Mom,” she tried again, “what did Dad say to get you so upset?” No answer. “Was it because he got married?”

  Susan sat up and looked at Caroline, eyes wide with surprise.

  “Yes, I know about it. Dad texted me.” Silence. “Mom, really, Sharlene’s a social-climbing snob, but she’s not worth all this drama.”

  Susan grabbed a pillow and hugged it to her chest. “I couldn’t care less about Sharlene. I care about you girls.”

  Caroline sat down on the edge of the bed and patted her mother’s arm. “We know that, Mom. But what exactly did Dad say that’s got you so upset?”

  Susan slowly stood to face her daughters and sighed, her shoulders slumped, “Your dad wants this house back.”

  “Well, I guess that’s no surprise,” Caroline muttered.

  Susan shook her head. “In one month.”

  Caroline sucked in her breath, and Megan’s mouth dropped open. “One month?” Caroline’s head was swimming. “How is that even possible?”

  “There’s more.”

  “More?” Caroline looked over at Megan and winced.

  Susan took a deep breath before blurting out the rest of it. “Your dad will no longer pay Megan’s private school tuition or Allie’s. And Caroline, your dad says it’s time you were on your own financially, so he’s cutting off your allowance.”

  Megan gasped. “What? Where am I supposed to go to school?” Caroline tried to put an arm around her sister, but Megan brushed her off.

  “You can finish out the school year at Willowby, but then you’ll have to go to public school next year,” Susan told her. “You and I already talked about Belford High School…”

  “Mom! Public school? You talked about it, but I didn’t think you were serious. Anyway, I can’t! Belford High’s art department sucks!”

  “Be honest, Megan,” Susan said. “You haven’t been doing very well at Willowby for the last couple of years. Except for the art classes.”

  “I haven’t been in any fights for months, and my grades are…”

  “Mostly Cs and Ds,” Caroline finished for her.

  Megan glared at her sister before turning back to her mother. “Willowby is the only school I’ve ever gone to!”

  “Yes, I know, but your dad stipulated in the divorce settlement that he would only pay the tuition if your grades and behavior improved.”

  “And you’re just now remembering that?” Megan cried.

  Caroline tried to stay calm despite her rising panic. “Dad can’t be serious. How does he expect us to manage a move so quickly? One month? That’s not nearly enough time to find a house, to—”

  “I called Emily.”

  Caroline nodded. “But even Emily can’t work miracles.”

  “Why now?” Megan demanded. “After all this time?”

  Caroline glanced at Megan, met her mother’s eyes, and knew the answer. “Sharlene?”

  Susan nodded.

  Megan glowered at both her mother and sister and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her. Caroline and Susan stood there in silence. Caroline tried to let their situation sink in, to absorb the reality of their predicament, but she noticed the tears in her mother’s eyes.

  “Mom, are you okay?”

  “Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine, but Megan?”

  Then Caroline slapped her forehead. “And Allie! Mom, we’ve got to call her.”

  “Absolutely not. If she fails her performance final because she’s too distracted…” Susan shook her head. “No, this bad news can wait till she comes home from school.” At that, Susan collapsed back down onto her bed, scattering pillows everywhere, turned the TV back on, and resumed staring at the ceiling.

  Caroline, confused about how to help her mother and sisters, recognized the familiar churning in her stomach. “I need an antacid.” She headed down the hall to her bedroom.

  Chapter Two

  A week later, Susan had had a chance to regain her perspective an
d dignity, and had formulated a plan. She checked her look in the master bathroom’s full-length mirror, snatched up her comb for one last swipe at her short brown bob, and then did a complete turn for a final assessment. Dressed in a navy blue suit that fit snuggly on her tall, slim body, she outwardly looked like a professional woman. But inside she was a mass of insecurities.

  I’m a forty-six-year-old divorcee, interviewing for my first real job. She took a deep breath, adjusted her jacket, picked up her newly-acquired briefcase off the foot of the bed, and headed downstairs to the kitchen. Megan was sitting at the breakfast table eating a bowl of cereal and reading a story in her English textbook. “What’s that, Megan? Homework?”

  Megan looked up from her breakfast. “Where are you going all dressed up like that?”

  “I’ve got a job interview in Indianapolis, so if you hurry I can drop you at school on my way. Unless you’d rather ride the bus?”

  Megan gave her mother that yeah-right look and went back to eating her cereal. “Hey, Caroline, can you drive me to school?”

  Susan turned around to see her oldest daughter taking some yogurt out of the refrigerator. Caroline was dressed in crisply starched jeans, an off-white linen blazer, and low-heeled sandals, her strawberry-blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail. “Caroline! I didn’t hear you come in.”

  “You look nice, Mom.” Caroline stuffed the yogurt into her bag. “Where are you headed?”

  “I have a job interview,” Susan said, nervously smoothing out her jacket.

  Megan continued chewing, not even looking up from her book. “What kind of job?”

  Susan cleared her throat. “Well, I got a call from the English Department at Rosslyn High School in response to my application, and they have an opening for next school year, teaching ninth grade English.”

  Caroline beamed as she gave her mom a quick hug. “Good luck and let me know how it goes.” She unlocked the door leading from the kitchen into the garage and hit the automatic garage opener button.

  “Caroline!” Megan called. “I asked you…”

  “Not this morning, Megs, I’m running late!”

  “Yeah, late to a non-job!”

  Megan dropped the spoon in her bowl with a clink. “Mom, why didn’t you just apply for a job at Belford High School? They’ve got a huge English Department.”

  Susan blew out a puff of air. “I did apply there, Megan, along with about fifty other candidates, most of them fresh out of college.”

  Megan got up off the barstool and set her bowl and spoon in the sink. “Mom, I know you’re exaggerating about Belford High, but aren’t there any other schools up here in Hamilton County where you can teach? Indianapolis is like thirty minutes away. That’s a long commute.”

  Susan picked up her daughter’s dirty breakfast dishes and loaded them into the dishwasher. “Since I’ve had no response to my applications from any of the other districts up here, I guess an inner-city school in Indianapolis is my best shot.” She grabbed her briefcase and headed to the garage. “Are you ready?”

  Megan picked up her book bag from the floor next to the breakfast table, stuffed the literature book inside, and zipped it up. “But, Mom, you aren’t even giving them a chance to call you back.” She followed her mother out into the garage with the door still open from Caroline’s hasty departure.

  “Sweetie, I can’t wait for them to call. I have to have an actual paying job, and soon. Just wish me luck, okay?”

  Megan shrugged and tossed her book bag into the backseat. “Let’s go. It’s almost eight, and I’ll be marked tardy again.”

  ****

  Caroline pulled into the drive-thru at Peterson’s Coffee Emporium on her way to Meadows Advertising and placed her order for a caffeinated latte, skim milk, no sweetener. At the payment window, she dug into her bag for the cash and realized she was quickly running out of money. Not just coffee money. MONEY. “I’ll have to make coffee at home from now on,” she mumbled as she handed the attendant a five dollar bill. She glanced at the dashboard clock. If she didn’t hurry, she’d hit rush-hour traffic, so she decided not to think about her financial situation for the moment. Besides, the year she had negotiated with Richard was almost up.

  “Working nine to five…” blasted through the radio. Caroline cranked up the volume as she made her turn onto Meridian Street, hoping to drown out her conflicted thoughts.

  ****

  Susan sat nervously in a hard, wooden chair just inside the English Department office. It was designed as a waiting area for students, with several closed office doors belonging to various administrators and their assistants encircling the reception area. A row of chairs lined the wall, but she was the only one there at the moment, and she felt conspicuous because two of the office staff kept sneaking glances at her and whispering. Susan tucked her hair behind her ears and then pushed it back again, crossed and uncrossed her legs, opened her briefcase to check again for copies of her résumé, and looked anxiously around the room for signs that she hadn’t been forgotten.

  “Ms. Benedict?” A distinguished-looking older woman emerged from an office.

  “Yes,” Susan said, rising to meet her.

  “I’m Catherine Renfrow.” Susan shook the woman’s extended hand and then followed her through the open office doorway.

  “Please have a seat.” Mrs. Renfrow indicated a wooden chair opposite her oversized desk, and then settled herself into a comfortable swivel chair, its back turned to a large picture window. The view was breathtaking in late spring: lush green lawn, large stately trees, and a well-manicured flower bed surrounding the cement marquee that read ROSSLYN HIGH SCHOOL, Established 1925. Susan fumbled in her briefcase for a copy of her résumé.

  “Oh, that’s okay, Ms. Benedict—or may I call you Susan?—I have the résumé you emailed with your application.” Mrs. Renfrow smiled at Susan as she donned her reading glasses and looked over the résumé on her computer screen. She was a matronly woman in her late fifties, wearing a navy skirt and loose-fitting cardigan sweater over her ample frame.

  “Susan would be just fine.”

  “Well, Susan, I see you’ve never had an actual teaching position before.”

  Susan squirmed, sure the interview was over before it had even begun. “Yes, that’s true. But it’s not because I didn’t want to teach or that I don’t love children. It’s just that, what with my husband’s career—ex-husband now—and raising children, who are mostly grown except for Megan—she’s still in high school—substituting was all I had time for.” Susan realized she was rambling and stopped. Not a good beginning.

  Mrs. Renfrow nodded. “I understand, and in my opinion, raising children to be productive adults is an admirable occupation.” She adjusted her glasses and went back to reading. “From your résumé, I see you’ve done quite a bit of volunteer work, though. Organizational skills can come in handy here.”

  Susan jumped at the chance to talk about something she was so proud of. “Oh, yes, I’ve been involved with a number of different charities. I also spend time volunteering at the public library as a storyteller, and for years I taught Sunday school when my children were younger.” She stopped and swallowed. “Am I talking too much?”

  “Not at all,” Mrs. Renfrow said with a polite head nod.

  Susan took that to mean she should continue. “Well, then, I also read a great deal on my own, both fiction and nonfiction. I know what books are included in the ninth-grade curriculum, and I’ve read them all. I’ve kept up with all the latest research on how children learn, and I’m up-to-date on the new state standards.”

  “Wonderful!” Mrs. Renfrow said as the corners of her mouth tilted up in amusement. “And I’d like to offer you the job.”

  Susan nearly fainted. “What?”

  “I know you lack experience as a classroom teacher, but I’m impressed with your community involvement and obvious love of children. I’ve interviewed several newly-graduated teachers, but frankly none of them seemed mature enough to take
on the challenge of our urban students.”

  Susan felt like clapping her hands together with joy, but managed to maintain her dignity. “Thank you for this opportunity, and I’m looking forward to the challenge. Oh, and I’m not planning to use this job as a springboard to someplace less demanding.”

  “Well, you’d be surprised at how many teachers do that very thing.”

  Mrs. Renfrow shuffled through some forms on her desk and handed them to Susan. “Of course you realize you won’t start until August.”

  Susan nodded. “I appreciate you taking a chance on me.”

  Mrs. Renfrow stood up and shook Susan’s hand. “Welcome to Rosslyn High School’s English Department. You’ll need to fill out these forms and turn them in to HR.” Susan placed the forms in her briefcase. “I’ll take you down and show you where your classroom will be.” She walked around her desk, opened the office door for Susan, led her through the outer reception area and out into the school’s main lobby. Susan felt like she was floating on air as she followed Mrs. Renfrow on the tour.

  ****

  Caroline glanced at the clock as her car inched along in rush hour traffic along southbound Meridian Street. It looked like she was going to be late to work again. She loved working for Richard at Meadows Advertising Agency, even without a title or much of a salary, and she wasn’t ready to face the inevitable.

  “You always seem to know exactly what I need even before I know it myself. And you have the ability to see the smallest typographical error,” Richard had told her during her first summer as an intern.

  Caroline had blushed. “It’s a knack I have.”

  During her internship year, Caroline gradually took over most of the copy editing duties as well as functioning as Richard’s assistant, taking his messages, scheduling his appointments, and fielding any unwanted phone calls. Now here she was a year out of college, voluntarily working full time with little pay, and all because Richard said he couldn’t do without her. If she was being honest, Caroline couldn’t tear herself away from Richard, either. Salary hadn’t really mattered until a week ago, because Dad was providing her with a generous allowance and she was living rent-free in their family home in Belford.