Girl Meets Class

by Karin Gillespie

  Henry squinted. “The child in the pink dress?”

  “Hideous, right? The dress, not the kid. No accounting for mommy’s taste.”

  Katherine arrived at the table, brain and organs seemingly intact. She took one look at Henry and said, “Hi, Grandma!”

  “How cute!” I pointed at Henry. “She thinks you’re her grandmother. Not that you look old enough to be a granny, of course.”

  “Can I have a bite of your apple pie?” Katherine said.

  “Katherine. This is my friend Henry, and I’ll get you your own apple pie. It’s not polite to ask strangers for food.”

  “I am not a stranger,” Henry said. “And what are you doing with my granddaughter?”

  I gaped at Henry. “What? No! You’re kidding, right?”

  “I’m not. In fact, I’m the one who bought her that hideous dress.”

  “But you’re not…I mean, you’re—”

  “White? That’s correct, and Carl’s late Daddy, God bless his soul, was black. That’s who he favors, obviously…Katherine. Go back and play a while. I need to talk to Toni Lee for a minute.”

  The little girl rocked back and forth in her matching pink Mary Janes. “If I do, can I have my own fried pie?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Henry swatted her on her butt. “Go on now.”

  Once she’d left, Henry shook her head. “Don’t tell me you’re dating my son.”

  “Guilty.”

  She didn’t look pleased. “You, of all people, do not need to be toying with my Carl.”

  “I’m not toying with him. I really, really like him.”

  “That so?” She pointed her drinking straw at me. “Have you forgotten what happened last night?”

  “What?” I was momentarily puzzled. Then last night’s caper bubbled up in my mind.

  Me and Kirk.

  At the Country Club.

  His tongue down my throat, tickling my tonsils.

  I’d been so buzzed I’d forgotten I’d seen Henry at the Club last night.

  “Please don’t tell Carl,” I whispered. I was tempted to pull a Katherine and say, “Peese, peese, peese.”

  “And why shouldn’t I?”

  My throat was so dry I took a quick sip of my Coke. “Because nothing happened. I didn’t want to kiss that guy. He kissed me.”

  “Looked to me like the kissing was mutual. Then the two of you left to do God only knows what.”

  “I didn’t go home with him, I swear. Please. I’m begging you not to tell. I don’t want to lose Carl.”

  “Of course you don’t. Carl’s ten times more a man than anyone you’d ever meet at that club.”

  “I know that. Why do you think I’m going out with him?”

  She blinked a couple of times, and I saw a flash of Carl in the almond shape of her eyes and thoughtful way she held her head.

  “Here’s the bigger question. Why is he with you? I don’t mean to be unkind, Toni Lee, but it’s no secret that since you stopped playing tennis you’ve been completely out of control. Carl’s a family man with responsibilities. He doesn’t need your kind of drama in his life.”

  “I’ve calmed down. I’m not like that anymore.” The prospect of inheriting five million dollars was one heck of a wild-hair remover.

  Her expression remained stern. “I’m sorry, but this is my son you’re talking about. He needs to know what he’s gotten himself into. I don’t know what lies you’ve been telling him, but you’re not his type of woman. At all.”

  When Katherine and I returned to Carl’s apartment, I violated another one of Deena’s sacred rules and let Katherine gorge on the Disney Channel. I was too distracted and upset to play with her anymore. When she fell asleep on the couch, I cut off the TV. Not long after, I heard Carl’s key in the lock. The door opened, and he entered the apartment, wearing a scowl. His mother certainly hadn’t wasted any time.

  “Where’s Katherine?” he asked brusquely.

  I put a finger to my lips and pointed to the couch.

  “Good,” he said in a low voice. “Follow me. There’s something we need to discuss. ”

  He strode to the bedroom, and I shuffled behind him.

  “Listen, Carl—”

  “Deena’s on her way over to pick up Katherine. Did you two go to McDonald’s?”

  “Yes. I’m sorry, but Katherine said—”

  “It’s okay. Lizzie’s mom saw her and called Deena. Now Deena’s on the warpath because I let you babysit her. Do you mind hiding out in here until she leaves?”

  “Maybe I should go.” Obviously Henry hadn’t yet reached her son, but it was only a matter of time.

  “Please stay,” he said, kissing my cheek. “Won’t take long.”

  Just then the doorbell rang and continued to ring as if Deena was leaning on the button. If Carl didn’t hurry up and answer, the next sound we’d probably hear was the sound of an axe splintering wood. Carl sighed. “I hope this doesn’t take long.”

  He left, and I remained in the bedroom with the door closed, anxiously fingering the nubs on his blanket. I couldn’t hear much. Deena was whispering, obviously for Katherine’s benefit, but I could tell by the intensity of her voice that she was ticked off. She hardly sounded like a woman weakened from stomach flu.

  A few minutes later, the door slammed so hard the thin apartment walls shook.

  “Coast is clear,” Carl said. “Come out, come out wherever you are.”

  I entered the hallway on watery knees. “Sounded heated. Sorry I got you in trouble with Deena.”

  “She’ll get over it. Thanks so much for helping me out this morning. I got a lot of work done at the library.”

  “You’re welcome. Listen, I need to tell you—”

  “I almost forgot,” Carl said. “I have an important question for you.” He dug into his jeans pocket and withdrew a small black velvet box.

  I eyed the small box, which seemed to pulsate in his hand like a living, breathing organism. It was true we’d gotten closer in recent weeks, but I hadn’t expected the velvet box.

  “Are you okay?” he said.

  “Fine.”

  I was over the moon for Carl, but marrying him would mean that, not only would I become his wife, I’d also be Katherine’s mother. My brief encounter with the five-year-old had been less harrowing than I’d expected, but to become a permanent fixture in her life…How could I make him understand I didn’t yet have the maturity to be a mom, even to a child as cute as Katherine?

  Carl opened the box so slowly I felt like I was watching the scene of a movie on a DVD that’s gotten stuck. When the contents were revealed, I saw not the expected diamond engagement ring, but a simple pair of pearl earrings. I was relieved but also oddly disappointed. It was like unearthing a treasure chest and finding only a cache of tarnished pennies.

  “These are for my mother’s sixtieth birthday. What do you think?”

  I felt like I’d just run a hundred-yard dash over hot coals. It took a few seconds for my pulse to slow to manageable levels. “They’re gorgeous.”

  “You sure? Because you’re acting kind of—”

  “I’m still recovering from Deena’s visit. When is…” I almost said “Henry” but managed to choke back her name at the last second. “Your mom’s birthday?”

  “I’m going over there tonight to give them to her.”

  That explained things. Henry hadn’t yet called her son because she knew he was coming over, and she wanted to tell him about my exploits with Kirk in person. More satisfying that way.

  “Carl. There’s something I should tell you.”

  “Yes?” He was looking at me with such a trusting and earnest gaze, I could not bring myself to confess my late-night antics with Kirk, not just then. I knew it
would hurt him too much, and to be honest, I was a coward. Let his mother be the one to tell him. I couldn’t bear to see the betrayed look in his dark brown eyes.

  “I let Katherine watch Disney Channel. I’m very sorry.”

  He reached out to muss my already tangled hair. “I’m just glad my two favorite girls got along so well. Not that I ever doubted it. I’m a lucky guy.”

  Wait until tonight, I thought. Maybe you won’t feel quite so lucky anymore.

  Seventeen

  The next day at school Carl was AWOL. No accidental encounters in the teacher’s lounge, no hallway sightings or stolen kisses in the supply closet. When a faculty meeting was called in the library after school, Carl was also absent and obviously avoiding me with a capital A.

  I was so worried I wasn’t paying attention to the guidance counselor who was giving a presentation during the faculty meeting. I wasn’t the only one zoning out. The teacher across from me was happily making a rash of angry red marks on her students’ math quizzes. Another was looking at funny kitty pictures on her iPhone. A third was sleeping, his lips buzzing softly with each exhale. It wasn’t until Dr. Lipton took over the floor with his usual theatrical flair that everyone, including me, snapped to attention.

  “I don’t always nominate a candidate for a promising rookie teacher, but this year, I have a sure-fire winner. Please join me in congratulating Toni Lee Wells for being chosen as a finalist for the Luckett County Rookie Teacher Award.”

  It took a minute for Dr. Lipton’s words to catch up with me, and when they did, I shyly smiled and said, “Thank you very much. I’m honored to be nominated.” Secretly though, I was mortified. A spider monkey would make a better teacher than me. Obviously this was just another way Dr. Lipton was showing me how he took care of “his people.”

  “A winner will be chosen at the end of the year,” Dr. Lipton said. “Finalists will also be required to write a personal statement on their teaching philosophy. I have no doubts Ms. Wells will bring home the award come June. Isn’t that right, Toni Lee?”

  “You can count on it.” I gave him a thumbs-up like a dutiful team player.

  “If you need any help winning that award, you let us know,” Dr. Lipton said. Then he led the faculty in an impromptu rendition of “I’ll Be There.”

  After the meeting was adjourned, several teachers offered lukewarm congratulations. Later, while I was checking my mailbox in the lounge, the door to the ladies’ room swung open, and two teachers emerged. One, an older woman with whorls of tight curls covering her scalp, said, “Ms. Walker says she peeks into her room every day, and her kids are always playing games. I have no idea why Dr. Lipton chose—”

  She quit speaking as soon as she spied me by the boxes. I pretended to be deeply engrossed in a flier urging teachers to nominate young ladies for Harriet Hall pageant. The two women left the lounge without speaking to me.

  I returned to my classroom to finish up some paperwork. The door flew open with a bang and in hobbled an elderly black woman with a cane, her spine curved like a cashew, her face webbed with wrinkles. She wore a Chanel-like navy blue suit with matching pillbox hat, oversized gold button earrings, and old-fashioned black lace-up shoes. Everything about her seemed frail and ancient, except for her eyes. They were sharp and dark as a bottomless well.

  “Are you Toni Lee Wells?”

  I’d been warned about this woman, first by Carl, then Doc. There was no mistaking her identity: It was the infamous Beulah Jefferson.

  “That’s me.”

  I hastily grabbed a chair for her, fearing she might topple over as she leaned on her cane. She waved it away with a white-gloved hand.

  “Did you know my granddaughter Janey is in your class?” It sounded more like an accusation than a question.

  I couldn’t have been more terrified if Freddie Krueger or Leatherface were in my room.

  “She talks about you constantly,” Ms. Jefferson said.

  Of course she did. Janey was one of the bigger chatterboxes I’d ever encountered; she probably babbled in her sleep. The big question was, what had she said to Grandmother? I thought of all the hair-raising possibilities. Had she told her how much time we wasted each day? Or how carefully I’d trained my class to fool outsiders?

  “Students have a tendency to exaggerate. I’m sure that—”

  “Let me say my piece,” Ms. Jefferson said. She sounded like a fire-and-brimstone preacher preparing to embark on a damning sermon. “Janey tells me you’re the best teacher she’s ever had, but I was skeptical. So I sat that child down and said, ‘What makes Ms. Wells such a fine teacher? What does she do that’s so special in her classes?’ Frankly her response shook me to my very core.”

  It was all over. I imagined my check for five million dollars sprouting wings and flying away. Not only was I going to be fired, but I was probably in for a cane-whipping as well.

  “Do you have any inkling why I was so shook up?” Ms. Jefferson said.

  “No,” I whispered. Although I could definitely make some educated guesses.

  “Janey told me you purchased all the latest gadgets to make learning more fun for your students. With your very own money. In all my years of dealing with the teachers here at Harriet Hall I’ve never heard of such an unselfish gesture.”

  I was so traumatized it took me a minute to decipher the meaning of her words. I couldn’t believe it. The much-feared Beulah Jefferson wasn’t censuring me; she was praising me. How had that happened?

  “I’ve already told Dr. Lipton how pleased I am,” Ms. Jefferson continued. “But I’d also like to give you a small token of my gratitude.”

  She rustled in her coat pocket, withdrew a small, clumsily wrapped package covered with lint, and handed it to me. I tore away the tissue paper. Inside was a photo of Janey in a plastic heart-shaped frame. Her usual bushy hairstyle had been subdued with several colorful barrettes, and she wore a round-collared blouse that made her seem very young and vulnerable. I could hardly stand to look at it.

  “This is lovely. Thank you.”

  Ms. Jefferson’s dark eyes got moist. “Her mama died of a drug overdose when Janey was six. I’ve had to raise that girl myself, but I’m not going to be around forever. One day she’s going to have to stand on her own two feet. I can’t tell you how grateful I am to you for teaching her the things she needs to make it in this troubled world. Thank you kindly.”

  “You’re very welcome,” I said, even though I hardly deserved her thanks.

  “God bless you and all the other teachers who genuinely care about these babies.” She reached into her oversized shiny black pocketbook with a tarnished gold clasp, withdrew a lace handkerchief, and daintily blew into it. “Some folks are only too happy to throw them away and forget them like they’re yesterday’s potato peelings. I sure do wish God had made more like you, Ms. Wells.”

  After she left, I sat at my desk, turning Janey’s photo over in my hands. The earlier relief I’d felt had been replaced with a stomach-twisting shame; I didn’t deserve a word of her praise, and had, in fact, been shortchanging Janey as well as the rest of my students with scarcely a second thought. Ms. Jefferson’s visit to my classroom had shone a spotlight on my failings. These were young people’s lives I was tinkering with. Didn’t they deserve my best efforts?

  I tucked Janey’s photo into the very back of my desk drawer—I couldn’t bear to look at her trusting eyes a second longer—and laid my head down on my desk. I didn’t know what I was going to do in my classroom, but I knew I could no longer continue along the same path.

  An hour later I heard a knock on the front door of my condo. I peered through the peephole of the front door, but all I could see was a huge bouquet of deep pink roses, at least two dozen. They blocked the face of whoever was delivering them.

  I opened the door. On the feet of the walking
bouquet was a pair of familiar sneakers.

  “Carl?”

  His face peeked out from behind the roses.

  “Surprise,” he said.

  What an understatement. I hadn’t expected to see Carl on my front stoop anytime soon—not after his mother had given him an earful about my two-timing ways—and I definitely didn’t expect him to appear bearing pricey foliage.

  “What are these for?” I said. I felt so guilty I was tempted to prick my fingers on the thorns.

  “Let me inside, and I’ll tell you.”

  “Of course.” I relieved him of the roses and headed to my galley kitchen. Carl followed me and told me he’d missed school that day because Katherine had the sniffles, and Deena had a doctor’s appointment and couldn’t stay home with her. After Deena had retrieved Katherine, Doc called and told him about my nomination.

  “That’s what the roses are for. Not that I need an excuse to bring you flowers.”

  I arranged them in a vase. “They’re stunning.”

  Although poison ivy or hemlock would have been more appropriate. Why wasn’t he saying anything about Kirk? Was he trying to torture me?

  Carl came up from behind me, circled his arms around my waist, and kissed me on the part of my hair. “I’m so proud of you.”

  Unable to endure the suspense any longer, I whirled around to face him. “We both know I don’t deserve them.”

  “Don’t be modest. I can’t remember the last time Dr. Lipton thought enough of a new teacher to make a nomination for the Rookie honor. I don’t always approve of his decisions, but sometimes he makes a good one.”

  “Come on, Carl. I’m not talking about my teaching. I’m talking about Saturday night. Your mother must have told you she saw me out. Why aren’t you saying anything about it?”

  I braced myself for his reply, which didn’t come immediately. A bird chirped outside my window. The icemaker in the fridge rumbled. Carl scratched a bit of peppery stubble on his usually clean-shaven chin. “Do you want to discuss Saturday night?”