Chapter 19 The Meeting #2
The corner of his mouth twitches with bitter amusement.
“Becky, everyone in town already thinks—They already think that I am with her. What’s the police gonna do?
” In a mocking voice he says, “Yeah, okay, buddy. Your girlfriend copped a feel. Have a good life.” He ends his mockery in a caustic laugh.
None of this bitterness is him, and I don’t know how to help.
I also didn’t tell the police when I—well, when I was a victim of domestic abuse.
I did get someone to talk to, though. That step made a huge difference.
“I can get you the number of someone who can help.” I say it softly while taking slow steps toward him.
I put my coffee down and lower down to kneel at his feet.
Taking his grease-stained hands, I rub my thumbs along the back of them.
“Please tell me that you’ll think about it.
I won’t push you. It’s your choice. I will support you in whatever path you take.
” I need to give him time to come to terms with what happened to him.
I lift my gaze to meet his eyes. He’s looking at our hands too.
“Carter, I’m just going to say this one more time then I’ll drop it, okay?
” He nods his head slightly. “No matter what you did leading up to that night, you did not deserve what happened to you.” He drops his head, and I release his hands to cup his face and lift it until he meets my gaze. “You did not deserve it.”
Carter nods slightly again, just a slight dip of his chin I can feel beneath my palms. I release him and stand again. “We can agree on one thing for sure. Taylor is a piece of shit. We need a plan.”
?????
When I arrive at work on Monday, I hear my name called out from the office. With a wide and relieved grin taking over my face, I turn around to see Ronnie finally back from her amazing European vacation. My grin grows once my eyes clap on her familiar face. Thank God.
“Well, some things seemed to have changed back to the way I remember them.” She says with a wry grin, her eyes moving past me pointedly. I turn around to see an adorable hedgehog shaped clay pot with a succulent planted in it. There’s a note included with my name on it.
Becks,
I love you. So, it wasn’t long after I got off the phone with the flower shop last Thursday that I remembered WHY I never sent you flowers.
You’re a weirdo and think they’re a waste.
Here’s the thing, though. That was an excuse I allowed myself to use to avoid the effort. I didn’t even try to find alternatives.
You are worth the effort.
Martha told me that she offers some succulent options that are meant to last. I saw this one, and I knew you’d want it in your classroom. The Office gave the Ok for allergies once again.
Love, Carter
Ps: We will try this again. It’s okay, I can truly be patient. I still have a text you can choose to receive. Just text me “got the succulents you succulent, beautiful man,” and I’ll hit send.
“What does the note say?” Says a voice directly behind me, so I jump out of my skin.
“Sunuvanutcracker!” I screech it, nearly dropping the precious little hedgy.
She cackles and I narrow my eyes at Vicky. The witch. I make a decision, and reluctantly show her the note and watch as she reads it. She snorts by the end, handing me the note back with a slight look of approval.
Okay.
As I take the note back, I look over to see Ronnie is now talking to Vice Principle Kirby, and I walk over there quickly, before I can talk myself out of it.
“Mr. Kirby, I’d like to schedule a follow up on the documentation you’ve had me do the last few weeks.
” He looks at me wide-eyed, then glances behind me where Jill is likely sitting.
His skin looks pale and blotchy, but I continue.
“I also have a piece of text evidence I’d like to include. ”
Ronnie looks between us, also taking note of his appearance.
“I’d also like to be in on this discussion.
” She looks at me. “I am terribly sorry, but it will have to be after school today, or tomorrow during one of your planning times. I have a quick phone call with Central Office and a lot of catching up to do. Figure out what works best for you and send me a Google meeting invite.” With that, she heads to the front door to start greeting students.
With my meeting secured in the best outcome possible—Ronnie inviting herself as I hoped she would—I avoid everyone’s gaze as I hightail it out of there, snuggling my adorable Sonic the Succulent to my chest. I know exactly where this will go.
It was during my lunch that the office called again. I have to run over from where I’m admiring my new classroom addition at the window to get the phone.
“Hel—”
“You need to get all of your boxes. Next time, warn us if you order anything.” Jill hangs up before I can respond—as usual.
All your boxes tells me to grab a utility cart real quick before I head down.
When I get to the office, I see a few bigger boxes and I literally pat my back because I thought ahead.
Yay me. While I stack the boxes onto the cart, I feel an uneasy chill run down my spine.
After setting down the fifth and final box, I glance over to the main office desk to see Jill eyeing me.
I freeze under her scrutiny. Does she know? Does she know I’m taking down her niece without an ounce of guilt? She holds my gaze for a beat longer than what’s comfortable, blinks, then looks back to her computer screen. She grabs her phone and dials a number without looking back.
I get out before she can read my mind. Once I’m back in the classroom, I sit at my desk, grab a pair of scissors and start with the smallest box.
I always start with the smallest box. It opens up to reveal a bunch of school supplies filling it to the top: five containers of dry erase markers, board cleaning spray, and those cool magnetic erasers.
Oh yay! That might be enough to finish the year!
Three of my wishlist items are in this one box. What amazing generosity. I check the box for the receipt, but it’s just a list of the items and says Box one of five.
No way.
Filled with an electric giddiness, I hurry up and grab the second biggest box and see that another eight of my wishlist items are in there.
Box two of five. By the time I open the final box, I’m biting the frick out of my lip when the last of my twenty wishlist items are in there.
The gift note in it reads, What you do is important.
At some point I must have started crying because my face is all wet when the bell rings for the kids to finish their lunch and return to class.
?????
Ronnie had to reschedule our meeting for the next day, but that was fine with me. Taylor was mostly with other teachers these last few days. I’ve found my stride and don’t really need the extra hands. At least that’s what I told Kirby. He gave me a weird anxious look and scurried away.
Unfortunately, I have the thought too soon because Taylor ruins my plans of casually existing without her toxic presence right when I park my vehicle the next morning.
She looks smug as fuck in her business professional skirt and blazer.
The facial expression makes her look like she’s smelling something rotten.
Her morals probably. I mentally prepare myself for the interaction, only for her to give me a look over her shoulder and flounce off into the school. Ominous.
Despite the weird beginning, the day runs smoothly with a promise from Ronnie that we’ll be meeting in the afternoon. But after lunch, Taylor’s back in the classroom; however, she’s quiet for once. When I see Ronnie walk in halfway through class, I realize why. Taylor knows something.
“Good afternoon ladies, scholars.” Ronnie says.
“Good afternoon.”
“Heya.”
“Howdy.”
“Sup, princi-Pal.”
My students sound off in response. Nobody addressing her in the same way. Middle schoolers, man.
“Ms. Duchamp,” Ronnie says, a seriousness in her tone that puts me on edge.
“I have Ms. Hall coming in to cover for you, so we can have a quick meeting.” As she tells me this, I feel Taylor trying to burn off the side of my face with her glare.
But when I look, she’s adding notes to a notebook I’ve never seen.
Ronnie looks in her direction too and dismisses her in a curt but professional voice. “Ms. Terri needs help next door, Ms. Harrison.” Taylor nods her head oh-so-politely in response and glides out of the classroom, ducking around Sonya as she shows up at the door.
Most of the kids cheer at her presence, but I hear at least one distinctive boo. I whip my head back to the class fast enough to break flipping speed records to deal with that disrespectful bologna, but before I can say anything, Sonya is touching my arm and shaking her head.
Fine.
I don’t really get a chance to orient myself before the class is emptying out behind Sonya, and Ronnie is leading me down the hall.
While still in the hallway, she stops real quick, looks at me, opens her mouth like she wants to say something, then closes it and keeps walking.
I’m starting to get a sense something is wrong.
I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket and check my watch Carter Calling. I click the side button to ignore the call and send it to voicemail. I feel it ring again, so I take it out to shut it off. Now is not the right time for me to be on my cellphone.
When we enter the conference room, I see that our esteemed Mr Kirby is not invited, but instead HR from Central Office is sitting at the table; a notebook and pen sitting in front of her.
I watch as Ronnie takes a seat across from me, next to the HR lady, and my discomfort settles as a heavy weight in my gut.
This isn’t my meeting.
My suspicion is confirmed when Ronnie looks at me and says the most ridiculous and absurd crap I’ve heard in my life. “We have had faculty complaints that you are being belligerent in your treatment of a fellow faculty member, and that you’re bringing your personal life into the classroom.”
Shut the front door. This has to be a joke.
“Unfortunately, Central Office also received a phone call from a student’s close family member about the same concerns.
Mr. Kirby has collected these accusations over the last few weeks, as has the Central Office.
” She pulls out a file I hadn’t spotted, and it’s almost as full as the one I’ve been building.
“A phone call over the weekend from the family member was, unfortunately, the point where we have to draw the line.”
The coward knew this was coming.
“Who? What family member?” I ask, frustrated, scared. “I’m sorry, but I have no idea what this is in relation to.” I continue, shaking my head. I can’t believe this is happening to me.
“I’m sorry, Ms Duchamp, but you’ll need to pack your things and leave until this accusation is fully investigated.” The HR has a sympathetic tone, but that’s not doing me any good.
“I don’t have an opportunity to defend myself? What did I even do?”
Ronnie shakes her head, also sympathetic.
“I’m sorry, but no. We also can’t disclose the exact complaint, or from whom the complaint originates.
” She then stands up and straightens her jacket, signifying the end of this farce of a meeting.
I sit and stare at the two of them, off kilter now, and Ronnie holds her arm out as if guiding me out the door.
Numbly, I stand and follow instructions, a little lost on what else I even can do.
I didn’t do anything wrong.
I look over as I pass Jill, and she barely glances up from her computer screen. She doesn’t pause in whatever she is doing, continuing with God knows what on her damned computer and making some stupid fucking phone calls.
The HR representative leaves out the front door, and the principal chaperones me back to my now empty classroom, like I need a babysitter.
Look out, I’m gonna lose it in a fucking school!
As-fucking-if. I ignore her standing at my door, as I take my time, print an email, gather my things, like a certain folder, and walk out the door without meeting Ronnie’s eyes.
I’m not protected here, so I need to protect myself. It’s fine, though. I’m already making moves. I have plans. The timeline just moved up.