32. Carolina
Chapter thirty-two
Carolina
I sip the last of my iced tea, wondering why I waited so long to have Anna do my hair.
“It’s perfect. Utterly perfect,” I say, admiring how she made my curls look so bouncy and fresh.
My phone rings, and I glance down at where it’s resting on top of the black cape in my lap. West Isle Elementary scrolls across the screen.
“Oh, it’s the girls' school. I have to get this,” I tell Anna, who smiles and takes a step back from her chair to give me privacy.
I think about the last time their school called, how it was on Berg’s phone. Now it’s programmed into mine.
“Hi, Joan!” I say, brightly. “Someone sick?”
There’s a beat of a pause.
“This is actually Principal Simmons,” a deep male voice says .
The velcro rips as I tug off the cape around my throat. “Is everything alright?”
“Natalie’s been in a fight.”
***
I fly through the front doors of the school, ignoring Joan when she greets me. Natalie and Louisa sit side by side on a bench near a door with a gold engraved placard reading Principal Matthew Simmons.
“Both of you? What happened?” I ask, crouching in front of my girls.
Natalie crosses her arms over her chest defensively as her eyes slide sideways. I track her line of sight, landing on Milly in a chair on the opposite side of the principal’s door. Milly clutches an ice pack to her nose, looking anywhere but at me.
“Oh, Natalie,” I mutter, feeling way over my head.
“She started it.”
Before I can launch into the logistics of explaining why that doesn’t always hold up, someone else enters the office. When I turn, I’m surprised at Tamara’s appearance. She’s not wearing a smart skirt suit or even a matching workout set. She looks…normal. A graphic tee falls over a pair of black bike shorts, her hair damp and tucked behind her ears. Fresh from Anna’s salon in my favourite jeans, I actually feel more put together than her for once.
“Ladies? ”
Principal Simmons stands in the doorway to his office.
“Come on in, please.”
He steps aside and Tamara and I both glance at the children before following him into the office.
***
“It’s a zero tolerance policy for violence, Mrs. MacMillan.”
“It’s Ms. Wolfe,” I correct.
“Right, apologies.”
I feel Tamara’s eyes on me before she folds her arms across her chest.
“I understand the concept of a zero tolerance policy, but Natalie was standing up for her little sister.”
Principal Miller ran us through the basics of the incident. Milly told Louisa that me winning the highest bid for the cake sale didn’t count because her mom didn’t make it. Louisa said she didn’t have a mom and started crying and Milly called her a crybaby. Then Natalie came in with a mean jab to the nose, which I’ve yet to figure out where exactly she learned such a thing. I’ll be interrogating my brother later.
“She’ll need to stay home for Monday and Tuesday of next week, Mrs–”
Oh my god, if this guy calls me Mrs. MacMillan one more time.
“You know what? Call me Carolina, please.” I hold my palms up. “We’re a month from the end of the school year. What does this suspension prove?”
“That we’re serious about violence.”
My eyebrows rise. “But not about bullying? Words hurt.”
He pinches the bridge of his nose.
Tamara clears her throat. “You should suspend Milly too.”
I stare at her profile, wondering if I heard her correctly.
She continues, nodding. “I’ll keep Milly home as well. What she said wasn’t right. I don’t like it. I’m sorry, Caro.”
Who is this lady and what has she done with the smart-mouthed, well-groomed Tamara?
I stammer a bit before I find my voice. “Th-thank you. I’m sorry too.”
The principal sees us out and since it’s close to the end of the day, Louisa goes to collect her bag from her classroom so we can all head home together.
“Caro? Can we talk for a second?”
Milly and Natalie go their separate ways in the schoolyard while Tamara and I pause on the top of the school steps where I can wait for Lou.
“I owe you an apology. Not simply for what happened today.”
I have no idea what this is about.
“I’ve been a raging bitch.”
My eyes go wide. “Oh, no you have–”
Tamara holds a hand up .
“Please, I know I have. Let me finish.”
I nod, allowing her to go on as I watch Natalie drag her hand along the top of a fence.
“I was really jealous of you and Berg. Or,” she glances at the sky like she’s searching for some strength up there. “I am jealous of you and Berg. When you first started showing up and I saw how effortless you were with his daughters and the way he looked at you? It upset me. What you might not know about me, unless Berg told you, is that I’m a widow as well.”
My chest clenches at her sad admission.
“My husband died more recently, about four years ago now. And when I found out that Berg had been through a similar loss? Well, I felt connected to him. I thought, here’s someone who will understand what it means to lose a spouse. To lose your child’s parent. And, of course, I was attracted to him too.”
Heat blooms across my cheekbones.
“When you guys started…dating or whatever, it killed me. What does this twenty something know about loss? About being a parent? I thought so many nasty things.”
It’s uncomfortable to listen to her confession, but so much of her behaviour now makes sense.
“I thought a lot of mean things, too. I thought for sure you and Berg were involved the first time I saw you. For a long time, I doubted I had anything to offer a couple of kids either.”
“Oh, but you do. When I lost my husband, I threw myself into work. I’m a lawyer, and he was too, but I tried to work part time so I could care for Milly when she was little. After he died, I went all in and made partner at the firm. Add that to my duties on the PAC? I’m in over my head…and my daughter is obviously suffering. This isn’t the first time I’ve been called in to talk about her behaviour. Yes, kids need material items to survive…but they don’t need all the stuff I was trying to provide if it comes at the expense of time and attention. This will be my last year on the PAC and I’m stepping out of such a senior role at work. Milly is going to have to get used to life without horseback riding lessons.”
Her honesty is so refreshing.
“I bought a goddamn cake for the auction.”
“Whaaat? You bought that?” I say, voice heavy with sarcasm.
“When they told me how much it cost when I picked it up, I almost dropped dead.”
“Oh no. We weren’t much better than the kids, were we?”
Tamara laughs, shaking her head.
“We just haven’t punched each other yet.”
“Believe me, I wanted to.”
The door pushes open and Louisa steps out, handing me her backpack and going to join Natalie where she’s picking daisies on the field.
Tamara holds her hand out to me.
“Truce?”
I take it in a firm grip.
“Truce.”
We walk towards our cars, the girls so much more silent than normal.
“Hey, Caro?”
“Ya?”
“None of us actually know what we’re doing. We’re all faking this parenting thing. You might not actually be their mother, but you’re faking it really damn well.”
My eyes burn with tears. God, it was easier to hate this woman.
***
“Natalie?” I rap my knuckles on the bathroom door. “You okay?”
“I’m fine!”
“Okay…cause you don’t sound fine, honey.”
“Don’t call me that!”
Her tone of voice stings, but I swallow down my feelings about it.
“Alright. I’m sorry.”
“When is my dad coming home?”
“Should be soon, hon–” I stop myself in time. “Should be soon, Nat.”
I back away from the door, check in on Louisa, who is reading some library books on her bed, then head to the kitchen. If I’m being honest, I don’t really know what to do with myself. Natalie marched into the house and promptly locked herself in her bathroom. Of course I’ve had the odd hard day with each girl. Bedtime isn’t always simple, especially when they are overtired, and Natalie definitely knows how to cop an attitude. But this feels different, and I don’t know how to fix it.
“I’m out here if you need me.”
I startle when the opening chords of a pop song blasting in the kitchen.
Striding toward the source of the music I call out, “Louisa! That’s too loud.”
“You said dancing can cheer us up! Maybe it will help Natalie!”
The sentiment is sweet, but I don’t really think this is the right time for a kitchen dance party. I move to walk around her so I can at least turn the volume down but she snags my hands in hers and begins shaking her hips and jumping up and down. I open my mouth to tell her that I’m not in the mood, but it’s not Lou’s fault that everything went sideways today. If Lou wants to process her hard day by blasting a little music, who am I to stop her. Maybe she’s right and Natalie will want to join in. I do my best to mimic Louisa’s moves, my socks slippery on the kitchen floor. I’m out of breath two songs later when I hear the front door slam. Berg walks in and I’m beyond relieved that he’s home.
“Hi!” I smile, rushing toward him with my arms open.
After this afternoon, I’m so ready for a big bear hug.
But Berg’s expression is anything but welcoming and I stop short of him, arms falling to my sides.
“Turn that off,” he growls .
I tap once on top of the speaker and the song ends mid chorus. “What’s wrong?”
“You tell me.”
Berg holds his cell up, open to an email from Principal Miller.
“Yeah, it was a weird afternoon. The school called me and I got there as quickly as I could.”
“Why didn’t they call me? I’m their father.”
I raise my eyebrows but press my lips together before I say something biting.
“Yes. I’m sure they know that. They also know that I drop them off and pick them up every day.”
“Because I’m at work,” Berg blurts out, folding his arms over his chest defensively. “And you’re here doing what? Having a dance?”
My chin dimples, but I’m not going to break down at the first sign of confrontation.
“Lou, honey, there’s some gum in my purse if you want to have a piece.”
A hint of worry clouds her brown eyes, but she leaves the room in search of some Hubba-Bubba.
“Right. So they probably knew you couldn’t leave at the drop of a hat. They called me, and I responded. It was urgent, Berg. All I focused on was driving there, doing the meeting, getting them home, and then the last hour Natalie’s been locked in the bathroom, sassing me through the door. Sorry I haven’t given you a fucking military grade briefing. ”
My chest is heaving, so I take a slow breath to calm myself. There’s enough anger in the house without me getting sucked down into it.
“Okay.” He scrubs a hand down his face. “Why is she locked in the bathroom?”
“Ask her. She doesn’t want to talk to me and I’m not allowed to call her honey anymore, apparently.”
His expression softens, posture relaxing as he registers the hurt in my voice.
“I was excited to hear you come home because I thought I’d have some backup. Some help. But instead you came in hot and now we’re fighting.”
Berg sighs, holding his arms open, but I hesitate for a moment. He’s not getting off that easy.
“We’re not fighting,” he says, letting his arms fall back down to his sides.
“We aren’t? Because it sort of feels like fighting.”
“I’m sorry I overreacted. I was freaked out and didn’t know what happened. This email just says she’s suspended due to an incident involving violence.”
Oh, boy. Talk about leaving out the important stuff.
“Can I take that hug now?” I ask.
He nods, opening his arms back up. I relax against him, letting some of the stress fall away.
“I’ll explain everything. It might be better to have the info before starting your barricade negotiations. ”
“I agree. Are you okay? Are we okay?” He tips my chin up to see my eyes and I’m reminded of the day at Lou’s birthday party when he checked that I was alright.
“Yeah. You?”
“I am now. I guess I’m still not used to having someone else around that can help me manage things. I felt left out. Hurt.”
“Next time your daughter punches someone, I’ll loop you in faster.”
Berg chest muscles jump beneath my cheek and the next thing I know, I’m being held at arm's length.
“Punches someone?” he says slowly, eyes narrowing.
“Let’s go talk,” I take his hand, and tug him toward his bedroom.