by Dawson, H A
Whilst they were positives, they were a little too small to remove her niggling doubts relating to this new status as a single woman. However, so long as she kept busy, a motto of her mother’s during times of distress, she would be okay. She had no reason to feel otherwise. Her conscience was clear.
Flinging back the bedcovers and heading to the shower, the moment in the hospital ward formed inside her mind, causing her irritations towards Nick to grow. How dare he tell her she owed him something? He had no right to blame her for the accident. He had been the person driving the car; he was too close to the ditch and driving too fast. And that aside, he had betrayed her by cheating on her.
Did he not owe her?
Nick’s audacity was unbelievable. She should be grateful to be liberated of his presence.
Images of a young, bubbly blond woman with an hourglass figure and dancing eyes flashed into her thoughts. Who was Kirsty? Were they colleagues? How long had they been seeing each other? Frustrated by the growing list of unanswered questions, she stepped into the shower.
She had to get Nick from her thoughts, and focused upon the steaming water, massaging and reinvigorating, and trickling along the length of her body. It was a beautiful sensation, and once she felt sufficiently cleansed, she turned it off, stepped onto the mat, and rubbed herself dry. Within minutes, she had dressed in her favourite jeans and blouse, dried and styled her hair, and was eating breakfast.
Not allowing any time for pointless pondering or moping, she flicked on her computer and accessed her email lists. Her first task was to invite members of her yoga class to a meal at her house. It was something that Christie had done on an annual basis, always at the same time of year, in a month’s time. Since Christie had access to her parents’ large house, she had opened it up to both members and their partner’s. Aside from not having space, Stacy couldn’t tolerate the thought of being the only single person there and decided to make it for yoga members only. She had heard mutterings in the past that it was something many would have preferred, and sensed her suggestion would be gratefully received. Christie would understand, and she could still do her event, just on another day. Not thinking any more of it, she made mental plans.
If she borrowed a table and chairs from her mother, she would be able to squeeze in about fifteen people into her small house. Jenny loved cooking, and she would help with the preparations. If not, Stacy would do it alone. It would be an enjoyable challenge. She could have a soup or prawn dish as a starter, she would offer a choice of main course, maybe chicken or fish, and she would do mini banoffee pies as dessert.
Satisfied, she sent a text, and stared at her inbox and waited for replies. Realistically, they would take a while to arrive since many of the yoga members accessed their messages once a day at best. She must be patient. It would happen. By the end of the day, she would be making firm plans.
The doorbell sounded. Surprised by the intrusion, since she never had visitors on a Sunday morning, she looked through the window. Christie’s car was parked on the road. Relieved it wasn’t anyone associated with Nick, she hurried to the door.
‘I heard what happened. It sounded terrible, and Nick … Oh my god. How is he?’
Stacy guided her inside. ‘He’s in good spirits, but it’s too early for them to offer a prognosis.’ She paused at the kettle. ‘He could be paralysed.’
‘So I heard. I know someone in A&E at the hospital. God, it’s terrible. You must both be beside yourselves with worry. This will change your lives forever. How do you get your head around the loss of your legs? And he’s so young too. What a tragedy!’
Stacy leaned against the worktop and gazed at her feet. It was a tragedy, but since Nick had made his decision that they parted there was little she could do. However, telling Christie of their separation was more difficult than she imagined. Not only did it seem inappropriate to be moaning about her issues at a time like this, she also didn’t want to speak of Nick’s affair. For some reason, she felt as though his betrayal was a reflection upon her. Accepting she had been a nagging wife and may have driven him away was something she had to consider.
‘You don’t look good babe. You must be shaken. How are you coping?
‘I’m fine … just tired.’
‘What actually happened?’
‘I don’t remember much.’ She folded her arms and looked away from Christie’s concerned face. ‘I think he must have been driving too quickly.’
Christie frowned. ‘How awful. I should imagine your life flashed before your eyes.’
‘Pretty much.’
You’ll get through it somehow. Try to stay positive.’
‘We’ve split up.’
‘What?’
‘When he gets out of hospital he’s going to back to his parents. It’s for the best.’
‘Because of the accident?’
She averted her gaze.
‘I knew the two of you were having problems. But to split up … that’s huge.’
‘It’s for the best. It’s going to be a trying enough time as it is without our personal issues adding to it.’
Christie touched her arm. ‘You poor thing. I don’t know what to say.’
‘There’s not a lot to say. Do you want a drink?’
‘No, I can’t stop. I’ve a tennis match to go to. I just wanted to check on you. Do you want me to come around later? I don’t mind.’
‘No, I’m fine. I’m going to my Mum’s later. She’s been a great help. Thanks though.’
‘Call me if you change your mind.’
Nodding, Stacy wrapped her arms around her middle.
‘Quickly changing the subject. Doesn’t your mum work at Pickard’s, the marketing company?’
‘She used to. She works at a small company near the hospital now. Why do you ask?’
‘Josh, my fella, works there. Someone mentioned your mum, and since he’d heard me talking about you, he wondered if you were related.’
‘Oh, what’s he doing?’
‘He’s involved in mass marketing, whatever that means. It all sounds pretty boring to me. Sitting at a desk all day would do my head in.’
‘Me too.’
‘I’m going to have to go. Do you mind if I use your toilet?’
‘Of course.’
She stepped aside, allowing her through to the hallway and up the stairs. Whilst she waited, she wandered into the living room, and upon noticing her computer, experienced a surge of guilt. Christie would be disappointed with her decision to have the meal at her house since she had enjoyed being the host. However, backing out was impossible; aside from anything else, she needed to do it to take her mind away from Nick.
Not finding the courage to talk about her decision, she shut the laptop and returned to the kitchen. When Christie returned moments later, she could not find it within her to make eye contact, and opened the fridge door and feigned interest in lunch preparations.
‘I’m going to have to go,’ her friend said, hovering at her rear.
‘Of course. Thanks for popping around.’
Christie went still. Out of her eye corner, Stacy could see her face filled with concern, and it heightened her nervousness. Tensing with awkwardness, she struggled to make a decision about lunch, and touched various items and willed the moment away.
‘Think again about leaving Nick,’ she said, ‘he needs you.’
With her heart pounding, she extracted a block of cheese, salad leaves, and margarine, and placed them on the worktop. Nick didn’t need her, he needed Kirsty. He had made that perfectly clear.
‘He might be a bit thoughtless at times,’ she continued, ‘but he’s a good bloke. Perhaps you should go see him again. He’s in a rotten place.’
‘We’ve made our decision.’
Nodding, she touched her arm. ‘Okay, I’ll catch you later.’ Then she gazed at her disappointedly and passed through the door.
Immediately, Stacy’s head was clouded with emotion, and her breathing quickened, and mur
murs escaped her lips. She would go to see Nick in a flash if she thought it would help put their broken relationship back on track, but it wouldn’t. Nick had made his decision. He hadn’t wanted to talk.
Suffering a new wave of pain, she leaned against the worktop, her face scrunching, and her heart aching. How was she going to cope without him? He was her world; he was everything. She didn’t care if he couldn’t walk again. She didn’t even care if he wanted a mistress. All she wanted was Nick back in her life, for now, and for always. She wanted to help him through the pain of his injuries. She wanted to help him to walk again.
However, the truth of the matter was that her feelings her irrelevant. She may love him and may be willing to do anything to help him, but unless those feelings were reciprocated, it counted for nothing.
She was lost and alone in a world of despair. She was at Nick’s mercy.
Focusing during the first half of the week proved difficult. Her heart was broken, and despite the positive thoughts she had had during the first part of Sunday, her motivation to do anything was lacking. She taught her classes in auto-pilot, marked schoolwork in a daze, and the rest of the time, she remained at home, sorrowful and moping, and trying not to think of Nick or her tattered life.
To her regret, he remained in her mind. Sometimes, she worried about his potential paralysis and wanted to comfort him, help him, and provide him with motivating thoughts; other times, she imagined him with Kirsty and, as crazy as it sounded, believed his loss of legs was a ploy to remove her from his life. They flirted, ran, and played; they praised themselves for the cunningness of their plan; they laughed at her behind their backs.
Her chest tightened. At least Thursday had arrived, yoga night and the best evening of the week. Then, it would be the weekend. She wanted a shopping day out to cheer herself up and hoped one of the girls would accompany her. It was rare for them to socialise outside yoga, but there was no reason it had to be that way, and as she continued her journey to work, she imagined their laughter and joviality, and the fun they would have.
Feeling more positive than she had all week, she arrived at school, parked her car in the staff car park, and wandered through the main entrance. She had just entered the staff room when the headmaster’s secretary, Marjorie Brandon trotted towards her.
Her face was a picture of distress. ‘Stacy, I’m so glad you’re early. There’s a problem. One of the kids has created a poster of you and put them on all the walls. They’re everywhere. It must have happened after school yesterday. We’re still looking for them. Andrew and Polly are checking D and E blocks as we speak.’
‘A poster?’
‘It’s …’ she lowered her head. ‘… it’s derogatory. I’ll show you one.’
Stacy followed Marjorie to her office and handed her the poster. Staring at the details, her heart pounded and her hand covered her mouth. It was produced in cartoon form, and there was a man in the wheelchair and a woman by his side. Underneath was her name followed by the words, ‘I don’t want you now’.
‘I’m so sorry,’ Marjorie said. ‘You know what they’re like. I’m sure it will pass.’
‘Who’s done it?’
‘We don’t know. But we will find them. Mr. Whittaker wants me to check the CCTV cameras. Oh, and he wants to see you, but I think it’ll be after school now. I’ll get back to you.’
Stacy hurried to the staff room and was greeted by the other members, all of whom exchanged brief and supportive comments. Whilst it was comforting to know they were on her side, it did little to eliminate her rising nervousness and anguish. Aside from not feeling strong enough to deal with the difficulties, which would surely come and remain for the day, she needed to know who was responsible for such wickedness.
Very few people knew of her separation from Nick. She had only shared it with her parents and Christie, neither who would be responsible for what had happened, and she hadn’t mentioned it to anyone within the school. Of course, Nick could have told people, and there was no way of knowing the slant he would have taken.
Could he have placed the blame for the separation upon her? A few weeks ago, she would not have believed he was capable of such cruelty and heartlessness. Now, she believed anything was possible.
Her anger rose. She reached across to the back of a table to collect a pile of marked papers for her first class and caught the top of two other piles with her sleeve. The work scattered across the floor. She squealed an expletive and crouched to the floor. One of the female teachers hurried to her side, helped her to place them back into their original piles, and offered soothing words.
Tears moistened her eyes. She had to get a grip. The day was not going to improve. If she couldn’t deal with a small accident in the staff room, how was she going to contend with a class of boisterous teenagers?
Breathing slowly and deeply, she told herself she would cope and that she would be okay. What was written on the posters were lies. Whoever had made such vindictive claims knew nothing of her relationship with Nick. She had no reason to feel guilty, ashamed or whatever other negative emotion she may feel during the course of the day. With her head up and her shoulders back, she exited the staff room.
&nbnbsp;
The day was arduous to the extreme and was still not over. Earlier in the week, she had agreed to do detention duties, supervising two girls and a boy, all involved in separate incidents. It allowed her thinking time.
Not only had she had to deal with sniggering comments, gossiping, and questioning comments throughout the course of the day, but she had also learned that her personal life was the talk of social media. She learned some of what had been said but chose not to look for herself, reasoning it would only cause her more pain and may lead to her breaking down. She could allow herself to cry herself silly whilst she was at home, but she would not do it in public, and certainly not in front of the pupils.
Maintaining a strong outward façade, she remained at the front desk until detention was over, and then told the pupils they could leave. They didn’t need asking twice and were out of the door before the words barely left her mouth. Relieved, she leaned back into the chair, gazing blindly at the rows of individual desks and chairs, and settled her mind.
The silence and the solitude was a welcome experience. Her love of teaching was such that it was rare for her to hate any part of the day. She had a good relationship with the pupils and believed she had a firm but fair attitude and was friendly yet a disciplinarian. It should provide her in good stead for the upcoming days, and hoped the worst of her troubles were over.
Having packed up her belongings and placed the papers she had been marking into a pile, she headed to the staff room. She had agreed to have a chat with Mr. Whittaker after detention, and whilst it was not something she was looking forward to, she didn’t believe he would treat her harshly. He had said he wanted a quick chat to learn the extent her troubles and how they may affect her role as a teacher so to assess the wider implications for the school. Whilst she intended to be honest, she would play down recent events. Speaking of Nick’s affair was not something she wanted to do, nor was it his business. It hadn’t affected her teaching thus far, and so there was no reason it would do so now.
She arrived at his office, expecting a quick meeting, but learned he was involved with someone else. Preferring to speak to him before the day’s end, rather than carry her troubles into another day, she settled at a table and continued to mark schoolwork. Time passed. She was just at the point of leaving since she didn’t wish to miss the yoga class when he appeared.
As expected, they talked through events. He provided advice and support where necessary, and then told her she could leave. It was the best she had felt all day, and remained on a high while driving to yoga class.
She arrived a few minutes late. Slipping quietly into the class, she scanned the room, looking for her friends. Both Jenny and Christie shot her a stern glance, causing a sinking feeling in her stomach. She knew immediately something was w
rong, but she wasn’t in a position to ask, and half-heartedly progressed through the routines.
At the end, she hurried towards them.
‘You could have told me,’ Christie said.
‘Told you what?’
‘About the meal at your place. You knew on Sunday. Why Stacy? What have I done wrong?’
‘This is not about you, it’s about me. I …’ She gulped a breath of air. ‘I needed to do it.’
‘You’re so selfish!’
‘How is it selfish arranging a meal for everyone?’
Christie shook her head and started to the door with Jenny in tow.
Stacy raced on behind. ‘I don’t get what I’ve done. My meal is not stopping you doing yours.’
‘Of course, it is. I wouldn’t mind so much if you told me beforehand. Don’t I deserve that? I even popped around to support you over Nick. You could have told me then.’ She shook her head. ‘What a bloody fool I am. And I thought we were friends.’
Stacy gawped. Of course, they were friends. But they didn’t own rights to each other’s lives. They could do whatever they wanted, and it’s not as if she hadn’t been invited. She told her as much.
‘Save it.’
She hurried on behind, following Christie as she marched out of the building and towards her car.
The café was in their view. Stacy glanced at it, and then back to Christie. ‘Aren’t you coming for a coffee?’
Christie said nothing, climbed inside her vehicle and slammed the door. Stacy turned her attention to Jenny.
‘I’m sorry,’ Jenny said, realising her silent question. ‘I’ve got something on too.’
Her defences rose. ‘I’ve every right to do whatever I please.’
‘No one’s saying you haven’t. But what you’ve done is selfish. We’re meant to be friends. Friends don’t do what you’ve done.’