Simone
SIMONE
T he last thing Edwina expected was for Simone to bring company.
“Who are you?” she asked.
“I’m Remy, Simone’s emotional-support human.” Remy gestured to Edwina’s desk. “Please, take a seat.”
“It’s my office.” Edwina looked to Simone. “Did you say she could attend? This is a delicate matter, after all.”
“You may as well let her stay,” Simone said. “Our entire friendship is a testament to her infinite persistence.”
“Fine.” Edwina wanted nothing more than to get this meeting over with. It was a shame—Simone had such potential. “Simone, I’ve spoken with the powers that be and I’m afraid we’ll have to terminate your contract with Linwood Primary School.”
Simone knew this was coming but her heart still dropped.
“We don’t accept.”
“With all due respect… Remy, is it? This isn’t either of your decision to make.”
“Has Cillian been let go as well?” Simone asked.
Edwina looked away, fiddling with her earrings. “Mr. O’Connor will remain, as he’s already on a temporary contract. We cannot afford two new staff members, and I’ve already hired your replacement, Miss Alisha Tamsin.”
“Fuck Miss Tamsin!” Remy yelled. “For your information, we’re not even here to ask for Simone’s job back—”
“Actually, Remy…” Simone considered trying to rein Remy in, to take primary control of the situation, but then decided that she quite enjoyed sitting there and watching things unfold. “Never mind.”
Buoyed, Remy continued. “You can shove your shitty job where the sun doesn’t shine,” she said to Edwina.
“The only ones losing out are you and the poor kids Simone would have done anything for. She works tirelessly for this school, always putting the welfare of her children first.” Remy looked to Simone for confirmation since Remy had no idea what kind of teacher Simone was.
When she nodded, Remy continued. “And this is the thanks she gets? Take it from someone who knows what it’s like to not have Simone around, you’re making a big mistake. Simone, grab your coat, we’re leaving.”
Simone saw no point in reminding Remy that she hadn’t brought a coat with her. But she stood regardless and followed her friend out of the room.
Once out of the office, Simone said, “That was very dramatic. Soap-opera worthy, in fact.” Then quietly she added, “No one has ever stood up for me like that before.”
Remy straightened her jacket. “Well, my friends have always stuck up for me so… Simone, what’s wrong?”
Simone had paused outside her classroom. Some of her students spotted her through the window, which began a chorus of “Miss Simone! Miss Simone!”
Miss Tamsin left the classroom and closed the door behind her. “Simone? As in, the teacher before? You can’t be here.”
Remy nudged Simone aside. “You can’t tell her where she can and cannot—”
“It’s okay, Remy,” Simone said. “This one I think I can handle.” Simone turned back to Miss Tamsin.
“We were just leaving but… please, look after my students, that’s all.
Be easy on Tyler. His home situation isn’t ideal, and you need to chase Martha about a safeguarding report I filed weeks ago, it’ll be in the system for you to look at and… ”
Miss Tamsin held her hands up. “Don’t worry about Tyler,” she said. “I know all about his situation.”
“You do?”
“Yes. Cillian, Mr. O’Connor emailed me.”
“Because he still works here,” Remy said. She puffed out her chest. “Which classroom is his?”
“Absolutely not,” Simone warned her. “Slip off your cape, you’ve done enough avenging for one day.”
Miss Tamsin looked between the two women. “Sisters?” she asked.
“Friends,” Simone said.
Miss Tamsin softened. “Cillian was worried about what would happen with Tyler since both of you weren’t going to be in for a while.
I read your report. I had a similar case with a student at my old school.
I’ll take care of Tyler and keep on top of Martha.
I know her type well…” Miss Tamsin finished that sentence with pursed lips and an eye roll.
“Speaking of Mr. O’Connor, for what it’s worth, I think either you should have kept your job, or both of you should have been fired.
” She pulled her phone out from her pocket and handed it to Simone.
“Give me your number. If you ever want to meet for coffee and tell me anything I need to know about your class, I’d appreciate that. I’m Alisha, by the way.”
While Simone input her number into Miss Tamsin’s phone, Remy said, “So, Alisha, listen… I don’t know if you’ll hear about this or not, but in case you do, I’d like to apologize in advance for saying ‘Fuck Miss Tamsin’ earlier, in the headteacher’s office.
I didn’t know you back then and you actually seem quite nice. ”
Alisha turned to Remy. “You said what?”
Simone returned Miss Tamsin’s phone. “Thank you,” she said to her. “I’m grateful.”
Just then, the door to Simone’s old classroom clicked open and Anne slipped through the thin gap.
“Miss Tamsin says you’re not our teacher anymore,” she said to Simone. “Is that true?”
Simone looked down at Anne standing in front of her, her head tilted up so her beaded plaits dangled musically; Simone would miss her dearly. “It is.”
Anne nodded. “Where are you going?”
“I’m not sure yet.”
Anne narrowed her eyes. “Do you want to leave?”
“No.”
“Is it complicated?”
Simone smiled, again. “Indeed.”
Anne nodded sagely and pulled a homemade card with a bewildering amount of glitter on it out from her cardigan pocket. She handed it to Simone. “I’ve been carrying this with me every day,” she said. “It’s a goodbye card from my mum, but I wrote something at the end, too.”
Suddenly, Anne lunged forward and hugged Simone’s knees. Simone bent down to her eye level. Attempting to keep her words from breaking she said, “You, Anne, have been an absolute delight to teach.”
Anne smiled with all her teeth until Miss Tamsin ushered her back inside, following after her.
Alone in the school corridor, Remy said, “That’s a sweet kid.”
“She has a sweet mum,” Simone replied, watching a sprinkling of glitter cascade from the card.
Remy looked back and spotted Edwina descending the stairs. “Let’s get out of here, Thelma.”
Simone and Remy decided to sit in the park where they once met for lunchtime sandwiches, to talk; they had a lot to catch up on.
Simone spoke about Cillian, her other two clients, and about Tyler and Anne.
Remy shared her recent bank holiday weekend with Lin, Mel, and Nova.
After a few hours, they walked out of the park and toward Simone’s car, the sun starting to set.
Simone suddenly said, “Thelma? As in Thelma and Louise ? You do realize they both die at the end of the film, don’t you? ”
“Do they?” Remy asked. “I’ve never watched it.”
“How? It’s such a classic,” Simone said.
“Then we’ll watch it sometime,” Remy promised. “After Mean Girls . Ah, is there any greater friendship than that between a freelancer and the unemployed?”
“Freelancer?” Simone said, stopping in her tracks. “What happened to your second book?”
“What do you think happened?” Remy asked. “My protagonist found out and broke up with me. I’ve been ignoring my agent’s emails and calls, so she’ll probably break up with me too.”
“Tara doesn’t seem the type.”
“Ah, well, you… How do you know my agent’s name?”
“She sent me a message via LinkedIn,” Simone said. “Apparently a while back you mentioned I taught at Linwood; that and my first name was all she needed. She’s a very… resourceful woman, your literary agent.”
“You can call her terrifying,” Remy said.
Simone smiled. “Her message was about coauthoring your book.”
“Simone, I’m so sorry. I told her you wouldn’t be interested.”
“Really?” Simone said. “I told her I would.”
Remy stopped only yards away from the car. “What?”
“It’s a long story.”
“Can I have the abridged version?”
Simone had done a lot of thinking since receiving Tara’s offer.
She’d never dreamed of being an author, but Simone knew it was the type of dream many spent years cultivating.
Falling into it was typically reserved for the privileged.
Remy had been writing for almost a decade before These Four Friends was picked up, and now here was Simone, being offered a book deal on a silver platter.
It was an incredible opportunity and likely the only one of its kind Simone would ever receive. But… what would it mean to say yes?
Simone had suffered enough turbulent consequences from her chosen career path.
If she said yes to this, then everyone would know she was S—or at least they would speculate.
It had been bad enough when her immediate family had found out, but what would it do to them if their church community and distant relatives found out, too?
How would her family feel about their plotlines?
Simone would change their names of course, but they’d know who they were.
She could always proclaim Fiction isn’t real!
But that was what Remy had done to her and that had hurt Simone deeply.
No, she would have to tell people they would be featuring; it was her moral obligation to do so.
(After all, the term “creative license” was not plucked from thin air; someone once upon a time must have created the term to justify a gray area they’d stepped into.) Wasn’t it?
Simone had no idea. She had no sense of what was right and wrong in writing.
Simone could always take the other routes available to her; Tara had listed them to her in a recent email.
Option 1: Tell the truth, that R is Remy and that you are S, and have your name on the cover (but once you admit this, there’s no going back. These days, authors are up for discussion just as much as their books).
Option 2: You can have your name on the cover, but we don’t specify your involvement. This means you won’t participate in or be paid for any talks, events, or press.
Option 3: Only Remy’s name is on the cover, you’re kept anonymous, but you’re still in the contracts as coauthor and will be paid accordingly.
Simone leaned toward option 2, but something about option 1 called to her.
She didn’t want to hide again, and that’s what she’d be doing, just from a different group of people.
If Simone admitted she was S, talking about sex work would be a focal point of many literary events.
Remy had once shared that, when she’d written her character in TFF as asexual but chose not to talk about it, a group of online readers claimed this was because she was ashamed of her sexuality; another group accused her of clout chasing.
So, Simone was caught between a rock and a hard place, torn between wanting to admit she was S and wanting to maintain her privacy.
Then Jenni had asked Simone a very good question: “Do you want to admit you’re a sex worker because you genuinely want that part of you out there, or do you just not want strangers to think you’re ashamed of your work?
You’ve always been a private person, and you don’t owe anyone the truth if you don’t want them to have it. ”
Simone knew that she didn’t want to be the poster girl for sex work; she wanted to keep her privacy and let S do all of the talking. Eventually, Tara came up with an option 1.5: Simone could be coauthor, perhaps under a pen name, and stay in the background as much as she felt necessary.
“I haven’t told Tara, yet,” Simone said. “I wanted to run it by you first. You’ve practically written the book already; I’ll only be contributing a little. It doesn’t seem fair for me to have my name on the cover.”
“Simone, that doesn’t mean anything to me,” Remy said, “but I’m still surprised. You want to put yourself out there?”
“I like the idea of a character that I get to define,” Simone answered truthfully. “One who isn’t replaceable, disposable, or considered a disappointment.”
“Well, the character I know and love is none of those things.”
Simone smiled. “I’m sure there’s a lot more for me to think about, but the answer is yes.”
As they entered Simone’s car, the sun having set the sky orange, Simone asked, “And what of your other conundrum? Have you made a decision?”
“I have,” Remy answered. “I even have an appointment tomorrow morning. Will you come with?”
“Of course I will,” Simone said. “Care to tell me which appointment it is?”
“How about I tell you over dinner?”
Simone pouted. “Can I have a hint, at least?”
“A hint… It’s the right decision for me, at this moment in time.”
“Sounds perfect,” Simone said, switching on the car’s ignition. “I knew whatever decision you made would be the right one.”
Remy nodded and tried to discreetly wipe the tears from her eyes, but Simone caught them. “I am happy,” Remy said, her eyes filling further. “I’m relieved and I’m happy. I don’t know why I’m…”
Simone reached out to put a hand over Remy’s. “Because,” she said, “the right decisions can still make us cry.”