It feels strange, I think, as I pull into my parking slot in front of the gallery. It's been a month since Troy left, but every day, I wake up and the first thing on my mind is wondering if he’s doing well. I've lost count of the number of times I've had to pull my hand back from calling him, and I've even thought of getting a new phone and number, one that doesn't have his number programmed into it. I just can’t muster the courage to do that or to press the delete button.
It's not that Troy has reached out again since I cut him off so viciously after he sent the roses. Troy is a man of honor, and not at all like his father. I told him to stop, and he did. His father, meanwhile, was arraigned and is awaiting trial in county jail, and I figure this time, he'll go down for a multi-year stretch. He's a two-time loser at least, and when the District Attorney approached me about it, he said that he was so confident in the case that he didn't even need Troy's testimony. The statement, combined with my testimony and the video, would be more than enough. I'm not sure if I'm ready to go to a trial, and I hope Randall Wood pleads guilty, if for no other reason than to spare Troy a trip back home.
Not that he's totally left Silver Lake Falls behind—far from it. Everyone I see, all my old friends seem to treat it as if Troy is like a sailor in the Navy, off on a temporary cruise before coming back home. Maybe there is more truth to that than I'd like to admit, I know. I know that inside, I'm falling apart, and this time, I don't know who I can turn to in order to gain strength.
I sigh and shut off the engine, going inside the gallery. Colette is there by herself, helping out her mother in the family business while her mother goes on a shopping trip for more art. "Good morning.”
Colette, who is also single now after having broken up with her boyfriend, looks up with pity in her eyes, which is just too much. Cheery false optimism, I can take. Outright delusion, I can take. But pity? That's just too damn much. "What?"
"Nothing," she says, turning away. Her turned back makes me even angrier, and I jerk my jacket off.
"No, it's not nothing. If you’ve got something to say, say it. I'm not made of porcelain, you know."
“Maybe, but I'm getting a little tired of you moping around or going off in highly pissed off levels of anger," Colette says, turning back to me. "You're not the only one who's had breakups before, you know. Yeah, maybe Troy left you, but—"
"He didn't leave me!" I yell, losing my temper. "I left him. I don’t want Laurie raised like some sort of football gypsy."
"Whatever," she says, turning back to her computer. "Just get your act together, all right? There's a new order in, and they want to come in and take a look at those woodcuts we've got in stock for a new bed and breakfast they want to open. Think you can do that without going off on them?"
"Fine," I say, my anger deflating as quickly as it swelled. "Sorry."
"I know. You'll get through it."
I’m about to reply when my phone rings, and I pull it out, seeing that it’s Laurie's school. "Just a second, it's the school. She must have forgotten her snack again. Hello?"
"Hello, Miss Nelson? It's Candace Lippincourt, Laurie's teacher."
"Of course, Candace, how can I help you?" I ask, putting on my best friendly mother voice. "Is everything all right?"
"Unfortunately, no," Candace says. "We've had a biting incident. As you know, this is a serious violation of school rules, and since blood was drawn—"
A biting accident? ”Laurie's been bitten?" I ask, shocked. “By whom?"
"I'm afraid you don't understand, Miss Nelson. Laurie was the biter. She's stopped now, but she's in the school office. The other child we've sent for medical care, but we need you to come down as soon as you can for a parent conference."
"I'll be right there," I say, numb with shock. "Thank you."
I hang up the phone and look over at Colette, who's obviously concerned. "Laurie, um, bit someone. I need to go."
"I'll handle it. Take care of her," she says, and I’m grateful that my friend is here to help me.
I drive to Laurie's school, where I find her in the office, her arms crossed over her chest and a look of rage on her face. The school staffer in the room with her looks to be at her wit's end, and I soon understand why. "Laurie, what happened?"
Liquid, gutter-level Italian streams from her mouth as she yells out. "Ho morso la cagna! I bit the bitch! She called me a name.”
"Laurie!" I take a deep breath to calm myself and squat down in front of her. "What did she call you, Laurie?"
"She said that I was a puppy that was abandoned!”
It's my turn to feel anger, and I turn to look at the woman. "What does the teacher say?"