She swept her eyes across the room she’d lived in for the past five months. Nothing appeared the least bit familiar, not the ornately carved door, not the elaborate chandelier, not even her own clothes strewn on the floor. She saw what she was, a dirty splinter that had slipped under the skin of the house and started to fester.
A pressure was building. Any moment, the house would start squeezing her out.
Part
Three
53
Sometimes I think I knew before I entered the school that morning in late March. There was a muffled quality of sound in the parking lot, the early hellos muted as if under water. The building itself seemed denser, hunkered into itself, and as I approached those front doors, I felt eyes on me, knew Carol Marsten was waiting.
She stood vacant faced and ashen at the front desk. Without a word, she led me into her office, closed the door, gestured for me to sit. She pulled a chair close, her breath quick and faintly sour.
“Do you know about Peter?”
Her look was one of announcing the dead, and I shook my head, everything in me falling.
“He resigned this morning.”
And even for the shock of it, I felt buoyant. He was alive. A resignation could be reversed. Only later did it seem strange how readily I’d believed he was dead.
“Do you know about the women?”
Again I shook my head, this time whispering, “No.” And I didn’t. But a nausea rose in me as if, somehow, I really did.
“Seems he was having affairs with two of the mothers here. One became suspicious and followed him, got pictures of him heading into a motel with the other. Went to Newland with it.”
I was seeing Peter in my kitchen over the holidays, Mia on his hip yelling for Rufus, Zoe bold on his thighs, snorting about Hannah. And his eyes so intent on Elaine. There was love there. Definitely love.
“That can’t be right. What does Peter say?”
“I haven’t talked to him. I only heard about this an hour ago when I got a text from his attorney.”
“His attorney?”
“Larry Hallstrom is representing him.”
“I thought Larry only did criminal work.”
“I’m still trying to sort it out. But I know how close you two are. I wanted you to hear it from me. By noon, it’ll be viral.”
I made it to my classroom and locked the door. Though Peter didn’t answer my calls or texts, I remained certain as to his innocence. Unhappy parents plagued every principal. These claims were likely made in spite, and Peter, always thinking of others, was stepping down temporarily so as not to be a distraction while his name was cleared.
At noon, other teachers discussed the news in the faculty lounge. Though I planted myself in a corner alone, Connie Swanson dragged a chair over and set her sacked lunch on the coffee table between us. “It’s not just the two moms,” she said.
I was well-known for avoiding gossip, and few approached me with it. That’s why I assumed Connie’s words had something to do with me, and a loud buzzing started in my ears.
“Peter was stopped in Bremerton last night.”
“Connie, I don’t need—”
“He was picked up with an underage girl who has a history of prostitution.”
I stared at Connie’s lips. They had produced gibberish, and I was waiting for them to laugh it off or add words that would create meaning. With nothing further, I stood, collected the remnants of my lunch. “I’d be careful of passing on such malicious gossip. People get sued for less.”
“It’s not gossip, Isaac.” She spoke calmly, as if correcting me on the time of a staff meeting. “He was arrested. That’s why Larry Hallstrom is involved. That’s why Peter is gone. Just like that.”
I sat back down. “He resigned over the affairs.”
“A mother did talk to the superintendent. That was months back. She was married and not all that eager to go public. She just wanted Newland to force Peter out. He convinced her that he was ‘investigating.’ He wasn’t. He was protecting his friend.”
“Maybe Peter was vindicated.”
She shook her head. “No. We’d never have heard about the affairs if it hadn’t been for the arrest. But now the affairs look good compared to an underage hooker.”
I was stunned that Connie would accept such a story. “You really buy that?”
“I do.”
“But how . . . ?” I searched for the words. “How is it you don’t seem surprised?”
She ate a piece of celery, and though she was simply a woman finishing her lunch, I saw her teeth working away, mindless like a squirrel, and I battled an urge to slap her. She swallowed and said, “Of course it’s shocking. Of course. I never once consciously thought anything like that. But I must have unconsciously. All those rumors over the years, you know, about him and women.”
“There are rumors like that about everyone.”
“Not everyone. I’ve never heard that kind of gossip about you.”
“Even so. An affair is one thing. But an underage girl?”
“I don’t know what to tell you. You said I didn’t seem surprised. And you’re right. I wasn’t surprised. That’s what surprised me.” She kept chomping, saying between bites, “Let’s just hope none of our kids are involved in any of this.”
* * *
—
OVER THE COURSE OF THE DAY, I tried repeatedly to reach Peter. I wanted to be of help. After his faultless career, to be facing these kinds of allegations was beyond anything I could imagine. After classes, I drove by his place, but his car was missing, and no one answered the door.
* * *
—
AT DINNER THAT NIGHT, Evangeline picked at a piece of rotisserie chicken, staring blankly at her plate. I was trying to come up with a topic to discuss when she said, “You heard about Principal Thibodeau?”
“Of course.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You heard about the girl too?”
“What girl?”
“The one he got stopped with in Bremerton.”
It shocked me that the news had permeated the student body so thoroughly.
“Do the students think it’s true?”
Evangeline’s head jerked. “What’s to think? He was arrested with a minor who was hooking.”
“He was terminated for his affairs with two mothers.”
“That’s the cover story, sure. But he was arrested. Wasn’t he?”
“I don’t know. Even if he was, there has to be an innocent explanation. It’s just not possible.”
Evangeline ate a few bites of oversteamed broccoli, clearly holding her tongue.
“You actually believe it?” I asked.
She set down her fork, slowly, as if deciding something. “I don’t need to believe it,” she said. “I know it’s true.”
An error of youth, this certainty based on nothing more than gut dislike. She’d thought the worst of Peter since he’d raised the issue with the forms.
“Unless you were there, you can’t possibly know.”
She glared at me. A challenge in it. “What if I told you I was there?”
This stopped me, but I thought back. “I’d say you couldn’t have been. You were here with me last night. And that’s when he was supposedly arrested.”