Chapter 34
The principal asked Emily to come to his office early before school pickup.
Mr. Park’s email was brief. Emily wondered if he wanted her help for the school’s annual gala, whose fundraising committee she had chaired in the past. But she thought he would have mentioned it in the email.
The fact that he hadn’t said what he wanted to discuss made her identify the request for a meeting as one of those cagey emails teachers and administrators send when they hesitate to put anything in writing.
It was a gorgeous late April day. Gen was out west for a set of road races, which were happening more frequently as the trials drew closer and the weather warmed.
Tulips bloomed on the school lawn and the magnolia was ready to pop.
Emily could see the tree through the window in Mr. Park’s office as he motioned her to sit in one of the Mies van der Rohe leather chairs.
“I want to talk with you about Connor,” he said.
“Is he okay?”
“Do you know Lucas d’Avalos? He’s in Connor’s class.”
“Yes, he’s Connor’s best friend.”
“He’s been bullying him.”
Emily’s stomach dropped. “Connor didn’t tell me that he was being bullied at school.”
“Connor’s the one who’s been bullying Lucas.”
“Connor?”
Mr. Park had met with the boys separately. Lucas said that Connor had been bullying him since the new semester began, that at first he teased Lucas and it had seemed that he was joking, but the jokes turned mean. Connor began pinching him. Then pushing.
“No, Connor wouldn’t do that. He’s so gentle.” She remembered him carefully lowering the turtle that had bit him into the water.
“I believe Lucas. I’ve seen a bruise. None of the teachers noticed anything wrong until today, when Lucas went missing after recess. We searched the school for him. We found him locked inside a janitor’s closet.”
Emily felt herself pale. At first, she had been sure that Mr. Park was wrong about Connor.
She had been ready to fight for him, was assembling the words to protect him against a false accusation.
Yet when the principal mentioned the closet, Emily remembered how Jack locked Connor out of the apartment and she had found him hysterical in the hallway.
She clasped her hands tightly. They were freezing.
“Connor refused to speak with me,” said Mr. Park.
“I sent him to the nurse’s office for the rest of the day.
We want a positive outcome for both boys, but that requires Connor taking responsibility for what he’s done.
He’s not allowed to have recess until he does.
This wasn’t an easy decision, because I don’t believe in stigmatizing children, but until I’m confident that the behavior won’t repeat, Connor will spend recess in his classroom while his teacher works on her lesson plan.
Unfortunately, if the behavior continues, we need to examine the possibility that this isn’t the right school for him. ”
Emily couldn’t speak. Her Connor. Her child who loved nature and asked questions about deep space. Who still called her “Mommy” at bedtime. Who believed that she told good stories. Connor, who kept almonds in his pockets in case they saw a squirrel.
Who destroyed his sister’s project.
Who had hurt his best friend.
Her son.
And Jack’s.
The nurse left the office to give Emily and Connor privacy.
Connor wouldn’t look at Emily. He stared at his feet, which he had hooked around the steel legs of his chair.
His knee jittered. She knelt in front of the chair and rested a hand on his shaking knee.
His grip tightened around the edge of his chair’s seat. “Connor, what happened?”
“Nothing.”
“You have to tell me. Why would you hurt Lucas?”
His mouth trembled. “Because he doesn’t want to be my friend anymore. He doesn’t like me. He used to like me and now he doesn’t.” Tears spilled down his cheeks. “I want things to be the way they used to be.”
Emily gathered him into her arms. His small body quaked with sobs. “Baby, everyone feels that way sometimes.”
“I don’t know what to do.”
Emily held him close. “I’m going to help you.”
When they returned to the apartment, Emily sought the privacy of her bedroom.
She called Jack. At first he was excited to hear from her, but when she cut him off to explain what had happened at school, he became outraged: “This is a witch hunt. They let one kid accuse another and just believe him, with no proof?”
“Connor admits that he did it.”
“I bet Lucas started it.”
“He didn’t.”
“Well, the school is blowing this out of proportion.”
“He gave Lucas a bruise. He locked him in a closet.”
“Probably just a prank.”
“Was it a prank when you locked him outside of the apartment?”
“What?”
“Connor learned this behavior from you.”
“Are you serious?”
“I am.”
“Emily, listen to yourself. You’re obsessed with the past. You can’t let go of anything.
You think that because I gave Connor a few time-outs when he was little that this is my fault?
Is no parent ever supposed to discipline their child?
When have I ever lifted a hand to my kids?
I’m a good dad. You never give me credit for it.
Have you considered the possibility that Connor’s behavior is because you left, because you broke up our family? ”
“Yes, I have.”
“Good. That’s healthy.” His tone became kinder. “It’s good that you can finally admit your responsibility.”
“Can you ? You have been dragging your feet with my lawyer’s requests. It’s not actually your choice whether to give her your bank statements. It’s the law.”
“I can’t believe you’re using our son to try to manipulate me.
We’re talking about Connor, not you. You are so self-centered.
Filing for divorce? Can you imagine what my parents would say if they knew?
My colleagues? You don’t want a divorce.
You want to humiliate me. Meanwhile, all I ever do is try to make you happy. ”
“Send the bank statements or I’ll take you to court.”
After a moment, his voice came clear and cold. “You’ll be nothing without me. You have no money, no job, no real home, no skills. What’re you going to do, Em?”
“I’ll be a writer.” He laughed. She had surprised herself by saying it. She wasn’t sure she would have said it if he hadn’t told her that she had no skills. “I’ll publish a book.” As she spoke, the idea hardened from hope to intention. “Watch me.”
His sigh was weary. Gently, he said, “We don’t need lawyers. We’re not getting divorced. We can make this work. Make us work. I’m ready to do whatever it takes.”
“Do what my lawyer says.”
“Is there nothing that will make you happy?”
“I would like for you to apologize to Connor for how you’ve treated him and me.”
There was a long silence. “You need help. I don’t know how else to put it. You confuse everything. I’m not the bad guy, and until you see that, I don’t think there’s anything I can do for you.”
Emily thought of the smile Connor had around the time he was a year old.
It wasn’t a baby’s impulsive smile but a learned one.
This smile showed his little teeth and had a rectangular shape.
He was trying to show the smiles he saw on other people.
He looked like an alien trying to impersonate a human.
It was adorable and funny but also sad, because when exactly does that start—how we impersonate our idea of a human?
Does it ever stop? She had impersonated many people.
The Perfect Daughter. The Small-Town Girl Who Leaves.
The Intellectual. The Beauty. She had tried to be Jack’s idea of a Good Wife.
She knew, even now, the words she could say to him that would make him happy.
The tone he expected her to take. But she thought of her baby’s tried-on smile and of her child forcing another child to be his friend.
She set her phone down on the dresser and, without hanging up, backed away from it.
She heard Jack say her name, but his voice was so small that he could have been three inches high.
He grew smaller as she walked away, his berating voice like a hungry bird’s.
She wondered whom he was trying to impersonate, then decided that she didn’t care.
She cared about who she needed to be: someone who, no matter what the cost, even if she suffered, would always put her children first.
Stella was coloring at the kitchen table. Emily found Connor in the kids’ bedroom, sitting at his desk and writing a letter of apology. His handwriting was careful but the ink was smudged. Crumpled balls of paper dotted the floor. He said, “Will Lucas be my friend again?”
“I don’t know. I hope so. It might be difficult for him.”
“But I miss him.”
“I know that’s hard. You can talk with me about it anytime. I made an appointment with a doctor you can talk with about this, too. I think she’ll help.”
Connor bit his lip. “I’m bad.”
She touched his tear-streaked face. “I don’t believe that. Everybody makes mistakes.”
“Not you.”
“Yes, me. Me too.”
Emily keenly felt Gen’s absence. She wanted to tell her about Connor’s situation at school but didn’t, knowing that Gen’s schedule was tight with races and travel.
She worried that discussing the trouble would make Gen feel like a parent, and that this would be unwelcome.
Or if not unwelcome, then too much too soon, and at the wrong time.
A distraction from training. It was less than two months until the trials.
Natasha Crane’s warning rang in her ears.
Basically, Natasha had been saying, Your life is a mess.
You are dumping your mess on my client. She has worked too hard for you to come along and fuck it all up.
What did Emily have to offer Gen? A secret romance when Gen hated secrets.
When Emily talked with her on the phone, she didn’t tell her about Connor. She didn’t tell her about Natasha Crane. She made everything seem fine.