His expression showed surprise. An insight into Rhea he hadn’t expected. It reminded her of Aileen Bloom’s smugness, all those years ago. And of Gertie, that day she’d tried to confess. And of Shelly, always watching the things no one else saw. Aside from her dad, Shelly was the only person she’d ever watched The Black Hole with. The only person to whom she’d ever explained, tears in her eyes, why the movie was so important.
Allen blushed because he was one of those polite, southern guys who were especially deferential to women. A pussy, in other words. “I’m so sorry you’re going through all this. I had no idea.”
“Oh, please. You think you got out unscathed? Look at you. Never played a sport in your life, which can’t have made your Big Southern Daddy happy. Oldest brother and Mommy’s hero, right? She probably filled out your college applications. Would have followed you around for the rest of your life if you hadn’t married MaryJane. Except MaryJane’s a lot of work. Gotta rub her feet every time she gets her period. One kid between you and it’s too much for her.”
Allen’s eyes watered as if she’d struck him. “That’s out of line.”
His voice expressed true pain. She could hear it, and it brought her back to a saner place. “Oh, God, Allen—” she started. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.”
“You don’t belong here,” he interrupted. “You hate it. You act like you’re smarter than the rest of us. You probably are. It’s not a fit.”
“I’m upset. You have to know that. Please don’t fire me. There’s no place else.”
“This conversation is at a close.”
Rhea started crying for real. Genuine tears, not fake ones to rile up the neighbors. She wiped her eyes and her hands came back small, like Shelly’s hands. With wide nail beds, like Shelly’s nails, and the reminder made her so sad she could have cut them right off.
“Don’t do this,” Rhea said. “I need this place.”
“Rhea… I feel for you. My heart goes out to you. You and your family have been in all of our thoughts and prayers. But even outside these circumstances, you’re teaching semiotics to remedial teenagers when they haven’t nailed down subject is thesis.”
“I’ll do better. I’ll be better,” she said, and now she pressed her hands together, begging him. “This is the only thing I have left. I can’t stay on Maple Street. It’s a tomb. She haunts me. She’s everywhere.”
“You need to leave,” he said.
Allen remained and she understood that he meant leave right now. She packed up her tiny cubicle-sized office. Eyes red, she started out. By rights, she ought to be this man’s boss. The whole school ought to be bowing. Begging her for nuggets of brilliant wisdom. She turned back. Limped to the desk on that useless, betraying knee. She spit. It landed on the top red paper. Speedy’s.
“Rhea!” Allen cried out, prissy and shocked.
The spit spread and turned red. Such a crazy thing to do. Obscene and uncivilized. She meant to say: Sorry. Forgive me. We’ll talk in the fall and I’ll be ready, Allen. But that wasn’t what came out. “Look what you made me do,” she said.
The rest was a blank. She skidded out of the parking lot, flooring it, to the only place left. To Maple Street.
118 Maple Street
Saturday, July 31
Amidst the chaos of 118 Maple Street was the oasis of Rhea and Fritz’s strangely perfect bedroom that smelled of cheap perfume. Everything in order. Not a coffee ring on a nightstand; not a bra hanging from a doorknob. It felt like looking into the clean and wealthy adult life she was supposed to be living. Or the imagined Martha Stewart pretense of what adult life looked like.
No sign of Shelly’s evidence.
The door creaked open. An overhead light turned on. Gertie had no place to hide. She was caught.
“Ella?” she asked. The girl walked slowly into the room. She had to be nine years old by now. Not so little. That wonder age, where stuffed animals and sexy hip-hop strutting coexist. Where Santa is real but the tooth fairy isn’t. She looked nothing like her big sister. She was round and broad-chested. Small brown eyes and mousy brown hair. She wore a pretty green dress with cut-out shoulders that cinched at the waist.
“Could you help me?” Ella asked.
Gertie held her belly. “How?”
Ella walked out. Gertie waited in the bright light, then followed. She stayed on tiptoe as they passed naked FJ’s room, then crept back down the stairs. Gertie in bare feet, the child in cute water sandals. Gertie followed her into the open kitchen, and then to the tiny room off that kitchen. It had a door, and was not much bigger than a closet.