“There are those girls again.”
“Oh crap,” Shay whispered.
It didn’t matter that I didn’t understand the “oh crap.” She wasn’t happy to see them and that’s all that mattered.
“You just stand here with me when they walk by.” I pulled Shay to the nearest kiosk and pointed to a pair of faux designer sunglasses. “Just ignore them.”
“Let’s go home.” I could barely hear her. “I can’t stand them.” That I heard just fine.
The girls moved toward us in a heap, arms flailing with shopping excitement, voices raised in glee. When they reached the kiosk they went silent for two beats that seemed to last an hour.
Morgan turned back and looked at us. I flared my nostrils and peered, activating my into-your-soul X-ray vision.
I didn’t mean to.
Yes, I did.
I looked at Shay. “Those are not nice girls. Tell me what’s going on. I knew Morgan’s uncle growing up and he’s a nice man and I’m going to say something to him about that behavior.”
“No, Aunt Teddi, you can’t.”
“I saw Uncle Beck with Morgan’s mother, so we’re going to have to talk to him and your parents—to your dad and Violet.”
“No!”
I ached to chase after the girls, to yank them by their earlobes, pull them into the corner, and give them a what-for. I didn’t know anything about most of them, but I couldn’t blame Morgan’s behavior on her having a single mom. Miles had raised Shay for the past six years and she was sweet, contemplative, and creative. Maybe that was why Cameron was hanging around this summer. Maybe he and Deanna needed to reel in the mean-girl behavior before middle school turned into high school and all hormone hell broke loose.
We walked in the opposite direction from the girls, toward the food court, away from our big-girl-earring destination and toward—I had no idea what.
I thought of book club and the whispering, of how gossip and hearsay runs through a small town like a river runs to a waterfall.
“Please tell me what’s going on.”
Shay looked straight ahead and kept walking.
*
Miles arrived at the food court wearing a suit.
“Hi, honey.” He kissed the top of Shay’s head. “My meeting was moved up but I have time to treat you to a quick lunch. What do you want today?” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a few bills.
“Aunt Teddi too?”
Miles looked at me. “Aunt Teddi too. The pad Thai isn’t bad if you like that kind of thing.”
“I’m just going to get a cookie.” I wasn’t hungry, but I didn’t have to be hungry to want a chocolate chip cookie.
Shay plucked a ten from her dad and walked the perimeter of the food court. I hadn’t promised Shay I wouldn’t say anything to Miles. But I could make Miles promise.
“Something happened, but don’t tell Shay I told you.”
“Now you’re telling me how to parent?”
“Really, Miles. She doesn’t want you to know. Promise.”
“Fine, I promise. What happened?”
“Those girls were here. The ones I mentioned.”
“What happened?” He looked around the food court and over the hedge of fake boxwoods.
“Nothing happened, that’s the point.”
“I don’t understand the problem, Ted.”
“Neither do I. Maybe I can help if you tell me.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“Doesn’t the middle school have a no-tolerance policy for this kind of thing?”
“What kind of thing?”
“Bullying.”
“Those girls are not bullying Shay.”
“It’s emotional bullying if they’re making fun of her work and intimidating her into clamming up whenever they’re around.”
“No offense, but you need to mind your own business.”
“Shay is my business.”
“Since when? Since two days ago?” Miles looked at the table and back at me. “Look, I know you love her, but you’re here at a really busy and stressful time.”
Miles didn’t say busy and joyful. Miles didn’t say busy and exciting.
“Just enjoy her, and then go back to your life, okay? Next summer I’ll bring her to Chicago. And things can go back to normal.”
“What if I don’t want things to go back to normal? What if I want to change what’s normal?” I heard my voice outside myself—it was strained, almost begging.
Shay arrived at the table with a loaded baked potato, thereby negating any health benefits of baked potatoes—just like a twelve-year-old should.
“Did you ask her, Daddy?” Shay sat on a molded plastic chair.
“Ask me what?” I glared at Miles. We’re not finished yet. He glanced away.
“Ask her, Daddy. Go ahead.”
“Shay thought it would be a good idea to take some headshots I can use for the campaign.”
I’d read the Gazette. There were two spots on the council and two people were running.
“I need new headshots anyway so I can update my Web site and my business cards. Can’t keep looking like it’s 2012.” Miles looked up toward his receding hairline and smiled. How did he go from possessive to pleasant? Maybe that was the mark of a true politician. Or of someone skilled at avoidance.
“C’mon, Aunt Teddi, this is easy for you, right? It’s part of your regular job. You take pictures of businessmen in suits, right? Dad looks good in a suit.”
“He does indeed.”
Celia and I had dubbed it the Suit Factor. Most men looked good in suits. The structure of the garment lent even a coward some credibility and charm, at least at first.
Simon killed suits. Suits fit Simon’s tall and slim physique without bulging or creasing. A suited exterior matched his inner strength of character. He was always meticulously groomed, with weekly haircuts and straight-edge-razor shaves. My favorite suit was his navy double-breasted, but he looked at ease in all his custom-tailored garments, as if he’d dressed without a thought. I knew that each night he chose the next day’s clothing with precision and a hand-held steamer. I grew wistful for his certainty and meticulousness. I would call Simon later.
“I’ll take headshots for you before I leave, sure.”
“Tonight?” Shay asked.
“I don’t know, sweetie…”
“Vi’s visiting her sister for the matron of honor dress fitting. I was just going to order a pizza for us,” Miles said. “I’m not much of a cook.”
“I remember.”
*
“Okay, your dad’s gone. Tell me what’s going on.”
“You were always around when Mom was … weren’t you?”
“You promised you would tell me what is going on with those girls.”
“I will, I swear. But you were, weren’t you? Always around?”
“I was.”
“Don’t you miss us? Me and Dad, I mean.”
“We’re here together. Your dad just left.”
“I mean the rest of the time.”
I knew what Shay meant. “I think about you and your mom every day. And I love our texts and when we FaceTime and the times we’ve spent in Chicago. I know it hasn’t been enough and I’m sorry. I’m going to be around a lot more from now on, okay?”
“I wish you lived here.”
“I will come back to visit, I promise, but my job—”