Girl Meets Class

by Karin Gillespie

  “You there,” said a male voice. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  Carl leaped away from me, and I looked over my shoulder. My father stood behind me, holding a six-pack of Heineken in his hands. I hadn’t seen him in over a month, and I certainly hadn’t expected him to make an appearance in a convenience store on the South side.

  “Daddy,” I said, giving him a hug. “What are you doing here?”

  He had a Band-Aid on his cheek from some mishap or another and a section of gauze taped to his arm.

  “Just left the airport. Your aunt’s in the car. She picked me up, and we stopped to top off the gas tank and grab some beer for me. I was going to call you as soon as I got home.” He glared at Carl. “Move along or I’ll alert the manager.”

  “It’s not like that. He’s—”

  Aunt Cornelia entered the store, the smell of Red Door announcing her arrival.

  “Porter, fetch me a Fiji Water if they have it.” She stopped short. “Toni Lee?” Her sharp gaze swung to Carl, who was still clutching the Colt 45. “What’s going on here?”

  “This stranger was fondling Toni Lee,” my father said.

  “He’s not a stranger. This is my friend, Carl.”

  “Friend?” My father looked Carl up and down.

  “Yes.”

  His face reddened. “I’m sorry, young man. When I saw you pinching my daughter’s behind I assumed—”

  “Well, if he’s pinching Toni Lee’s bottom he must be more than a friend,” Aunt Cornelia said.

  I shot Carl a helpless look. Where was a trap door when you needed one?

  “Toni Lee?” Aunt Cornelia said. “Manners?”

  “I’m sorry.” I quickly made introductions. Then I said, “We don’t want to keep you. Daddy, I’m sure you’re anxious to get home after being out of the country for almost two months.”

  “I ordered a Key lime pie to celebrate Porter’s homecoming,” Aunt Cornelia said. “You and Carl are invited to come and join us for dessert. I’m certain you’re anxious to catch up with your father, Toni Lee.”

  “Tomorrow evening would be better. Carl and I were just—”

  “I’m not taking no for an answer,” Aunt Cornelia said. She met my eyes with her own, and I immediately understood I wouldn’t be able to get out of the invitation. “It’ll give us a chance to get to know your friend here.”

  I glanced at Carl. “Is that okay with you?”

  “Actually, I—”

  “Of course it is,” Cornelia said. “Carl. I’m sure you don’t intend to drink all that malt liquor on an empty stomach.”

  “No, ma’am,” Carl said deferentially.

  “Good. I’ll expect you then.”

  I watched them go, and on the way out Daddy nearly tripped and fell into a Pepsi display.

  “Be careful,” I called out. Then I turned to Carl and said, “I’m afraid my aunt is extremely pushy. You don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”

  Carl returned the six-pack of Colt 45 to the cooler. “I don’t know, Toni Lee.”

  His expression was solemn under the fluorescent lights of the store. I couldn’t blame him if he turned me down. Meeting the family was only a few steps below exchanging internet passwords or getting matching tattoos. Not to mention my cover would be blown. He’d find out who the real Toni Lee Wells was. Not that I’d been hiding things from him. It was just that the particulars of my background had never come up in our conversations.

  He rubbed the nape of his neck, an uncertain look on his face, and I was sure he was going to beg off. He surprised me by entwining his fingers with mine and saying, “I got a bossy aunt too. Might as well go ahead and get it over with.”

  “Thank you,” I said, feeling relieved.

  “I feel like I’m starring in a movie called Guess Who’s Coming for Key Lime Pie?”

  “Don’t be silly.”

  My aunt, to her credit, considered herself socially enlightened, and would never say anything negative about me dating Carl. As for my father, he was more traditional in his views, but it wasn’t in his nature to make waves.

  I was more worried about how Carl would react when he saw Tranquility Hall for the first time. An eighteen thousand square-foot family estate hardly jibed with my persona as a penniless schoolteacher. Should I prepare him before he saw the house or just spring it on him?

  “Take a right on Highland Street,” I said. We were in his car, and we’d just reached the West side of town.

  “Nice neighborhood.” He shot me a sideways glance. “Your father lives there?”

  “Nearby. Turn down Magnolia Way. ”

  He put his blinker on his Honda Civic and made the turn. When we were about a hundred yards away I made a decision.

  “Stop!”

  Carl put on the brakes. “What’s wrong?”

  “I’ve been giving you the impression I don’t have a lot of money, and that’s true. I can barely afford a package of Lance Crackers, but my family, on the other hand, has a few more coins in their piggy banks.”

  “So you’re saying—”

  “My aunt is a multi-millionaire.”

  “Seriously?”

  I nodded.

  “Yes. Well, a recent multi-millionaire, to be honest. My aunt’s money is so new, the ink’s not dry. She’s CEO and primary stockholder in Cornelia’s Southern Foods. It was started in my grandma’s kitchen in Pinch Gut.”

  “The bean people?”

  “Toot. Toot. That’s us.”

  Carl still had on his sunglasses so I couldn’t easily read his expression. “I don’t get it,” he said. “You drive a motorcycle to school, you live in an inexpensive development. Doesn’t your family help you out?”

  “It’s complicated.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me before?”

  “Never came up. Does it bother you?”

  “No, but it’s a big surprise.”

  “We’d better get inside. Drive on. It’s the first place on the left.”

  He accelerated until Tranquility Hall came into view. It seemed even more sprawling than usual in the orange light of the setting sun. The engine idled as Carl rubbernecked the estate. A vein in his cheek pulsed. What was going on in that handsome head of his?

  “I’ve never seen a place like this before,” he said. “It looks like a school or a plantation.” He tugged on the edge of his skull t-shirt. “I wish I was wearing something more respectable. They’re probably hiding the Monets as we speak.”

  “More like the Thomas Kinkades. And of course they’re not hiding anything.”

  We parked the car in the circular drive and strolled toward the house, dodging the spray of a chattering sprinkler system.

  “Where’s your mother?” Carl said before we went inside. “Are your parents divorced?”

  “My mother died when I was four,” I said, hoping he wouldn’t ask me any more questions about her. My mother was off-limits as a topic of discussion.

  “You never told me that.” He gazed up at the house, which cast such a large shadow it swallowed Carl and me along with most of the grounds. “There’s a whole lot you haven’t told me.”

  I couldn’t tell by his tone if he thought that was a good thing or a bad thing.

  The front door had a note stuck to it saying, “We’re in the library,” which was a timesaver since Tranquility Hall had at least a half-dozen places to entertain. When I was growing up, I was constantly hollering in the halls looking for my father or my nanny.

  Carl and I headed to the library, which contained hundreds of leather-bound books bought by the yard. My father wasn’t much of a reader, but there was an entire wall of built-in shelves to be filled. Many of the volumes were repeats. I’d once counted eight copies of Charles Dick
ens’ Great Expectations.

  I sat on a chintz sofa. Carl joined me. Beau, sitting at my father’s feet, growled. Carl immediately scooted away from me. Daddy apologized again for his mistake in the convenience store and shooed Beau from the room. Aunt Cornelia said, “So glad you two could make it.”

  As if she hadn’t held a dagger to our throats, I thought.

  The Key lime pie was already dished up in Wedgewood plates. Just as we started to eat, Carl said, “Are you a tennis player, Mr. Wells?”

  His question startled me. I followed his line of sight to a shelf lined with my old trophies. I swore sometimes they were multiplying behind my back.

  “Those are Toni Lee’s trophies,” Aunt Cornelia said. “How long have you been seeing my niece?”

  Carl shot me an uneasy glance. “About two weeks.”

  “And she hasn’t yet told you she aspired to be a professional tennis player?”

  “No. She hasn’t.”

  “You two must not talk very much,” Aunt Cornelia said, lifting her sharp chin. “How do you spend your time together?”

  “More coffee, Carl?” I said.

  “Toni Lee used to play tennis from sunset to sundown until she hurt her wrist,” Aunt Cornelia said.

  “That must have been disappointing,” Carl said. He had a strange expression on his face, as if seeing me for the first time.

  “She was inconsolable for months afterwards,” Aunt Cornelia said. “Drinking like there was no tomorrow. Wilder than an acre of snakes. Can’t believe she hasn’t told you all that.”

  “Aunt Cornelia.”

  A wry smile tugged at her bright pink lips. “Maybe I should change the subject. My niece is turning three shades of red. Would you like a tour of the house, young man?”

  Carl agreed, just as I said, “We should be going.”

  Guess who won?

  “Follow me,” Cornelia said. “It’s so large even I get turned around sometimes. Porter, send out a search party if we’re not back in an hour.”

  I didn’t want to surrender Carl to my aunt’s clutches. God knows what else she might spill. She might even mention my arrests. I could imagine her saying, “We keep a bail bondsman on speed dial for Toni Lee just in case.”

  After they left, Daddy retrieved a silver flask he’d secreted in a potted peace lily. He added a little Irish to both of our coffee cups.

  “Carl seems like a nice enough fellow. Two of you serious?”

  “Not really.”

  “That’s a relief. I mean…You’re too young for that sort of thing right now.”

  “What if I were to get serious with him?”

  My father cleared his throat. “That’s fine too, I suppose, except I can’t help but wonder…”

  “Yes?”

  “Is this your way of punishing me for cutting out of the country and leaving you in Corny’s clutches?”

  “Why would you say that?”

  He rested the coffee cup on the swell of his belly. “Don’t make me spell it out. Maybe it wouldn’t be unusual for you to date someone like Carl in New York City or even Atlanta but it never happens in Rose Hill.”

  “Not true. I’ve seen interracial couples on the South side.”

  He grunted. “The South side hardly counts. There’s a military base over there, for god’s sake. That side of town might as well be in an entirely different country.”

  “Let’s change the subject.”

  When it came to Carl I was completely colorblind. Far as I was concerned he could be paisley. I’d spent all of my teenage years at a tennis academy. There’d been kids of every ethnic origin in attendance, and the passion we felt for the sport took up so much of our gray matter, there was no room for judging someone based on their culture or the color of his or her skin.

  “About this job of yours. Where’s the school?”

  “Aunt Cornelia didn’t tell you? It’s where I met Carl.”

  “She couldn’t recall the name. Said it was Huckleberry Hound. Something like that.”

  “I’m teaching at Harriet Hall.”

  He choked on his coffee. “The project school? Are you out of your mind? You could get knifed or shot there. Why in the Sam Hill did you take a dangerous job like that?”

  “It was the only one I could get, and the school isn’t nearly as bad as people think. There’s a new principal who’s changed the school around.”

  I was stretching the truth, of course. I’d learned that the charismatic Dr. Lipton was all theatrics and little substance. No sense in getting my father all worked up.

  He refreshed his coffee with the flask.

  “This is my fault. Shouldn’t have told Corny about your arrests. If I hadn’t, you’d still be getting an allowance, living in your old house. You definitely wouldn’t be working at some project school.”

  “But I also wouldn’t be getting my inheritance early either,” I said in a low voice.

  “If you survive to collect. Lots of rumors about that place. Assaults on teachers and so forth.”

  Daddy was being overly dramatic. My students could be disobedient at times, but I couldn’t imagine any of them harming me. At least I didn’t think they would.

  “Just be careful.” He reached into his back pocket. “I had some luck gambling in Monaco so I got a little extra walking around money. Let me at least slip you a few bills so you won’t have to struggle so much.”

  “I can’t take your money.”

  “Why not?”

  “You know why. I need to be completely independent. That’s what Aunt Cornelia—”

  Carl and Aunt Cornelia entered the room, arms linked like old school chums. I couldn’t help but wonder what they’d talked about.

  A few minutes later, we made our escape from Tranquility Hall. Carl was quiet on the drive back to his apartment. Had Cornelia spilled more of my secrets? Or maybe it was just the shock of meeting my family and finding out we had far more in common with the Trumps than the Joads.

  When we arrived at Carl’s place, I decided to act as if nothing happened and made an immediate beeline to the bedroom.

  “Wait,” he said.

  I stopped and gave him a questioning look.

  “We should have a talk.”

  I sat on the puffy sofa. My anxiety was cranked up several notches when he didn’t join me on the couch. Instead he sunk down in the easy chair across from me.

  “I was sorry to hear about your injury,” Carl said. “That must have been devastating.”

  I nodded. In fact, it still was, and I hoped he wouldn’t quiz me too much about it.

  “I’m curious. What made you take a job at Harriet Hall of all places?”

  “I need the money. And I also like teaching.”

  The second statement was an out-and-out lie, but teaching just for money sounded so callous. Especially to someone as dedicated as Carl. Recently I’d learned he gave out his home phone number to everyone in his class, and frequently helped the truant officer with home visits, even on weekends and holidays.

  “Are you being honest with me?” Carl said.

  My insides cringed. Had Aunt Cornelia told him about our five-million-dollar deal? I knew she had loose lips but I didn’t think she’d go that far.

  “Why do you ask?”

  “I overheard your father offering you money and you turned him down,” Carl said.

  I swallowed hard, not knowing how to reply.

  “Why not just be honest? It’s my guess you’re at Harriet Hall for the same reason I am. You love teaching, and you want to help the kind of kids who really can benefit from someone who cares about them. It’s okay to come out and say it, even if it does sound a little corny.”

  To me it sounded sweet and sincere, and I couldn�
�t help but feel flattered by his image of me. Too bad it was about as close to the real Toni Lee Wells as Velveeta was to aged cheddar. In fact, I was so taken with his rosy vision of me I couldn’t imagine setting him straight.

  And what would I say? That I was a lousy teacher and that the only reason I was working at Harriet Hall was to get an early inheritance? Talk about a turn-off. It made my heart clench just thinking about what a lowlife I was.

  Carl left his chair and cuddled up to me on the sofa. “Teaching means a lot to me too. In fact, my passion for it pretty much cost me my marriage.”

  I didn’t respond, hoping he’d say more. Carl never talked about his ex, and I was definitely curious about the woman who’d stolen his heart before I came along.

  “My ex-wife didn’t think it was enough that I was a teacher and was always nagging me to get an administration degree and become a principal,” he said in a halting voice. “She has a supervision degree herself, but hasn’t gotten an administration job yet. She assumed I would have a better chance. She was also very jealous of my brother Mitt’s lifestyle. He lives in Charlotte and works as a personal injury attorney. You may have heard his slogan, ‘If you’ve been hit, call Mitt.’”

  “I have heard of him! Those ads are everywhere.”

  Carl nodded. “My ex was always throwing Mitt’s wealth in my face. She acted like money was more important to her than I was. And she got mad at me when I wouldn’t let Mitt pay for my graduate school. I told her I prefer to make my own way in life. Just like you, I guess.”

  Not like me at all, I thought.

  “I’m glad you didn’t decide to be a principal. You’re way too talented of a teacher. I wish I’d been lucky enough to have a teacher like you when I was in school.” In fact Carl’s fervor for teaching reminded me a little bit of my love for tennis.

  He picked up my hand and gently pressed it to his lips. “You know what? I think your aunt’s right.”

  What else had that blabbermouth spilled?

  “We don’t do enough talking. Maybe we should remedy that.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “We should go a little deeper with this relationship. Get out of the kiddie pool and go for an adult swim.”