“Ouch.”
Caroline held her breath as the woman busied herself at the sink. What the hell is she doing for so long? Caroline wondered, peering through the crack between the door and the stall support and watching as the woman applied a fresh coat of lipstick before fluffing her hair.
“You’re sure you’re okay?” the woman asked as she was about to leave.
“I’m fine, thank you.”
Caroline waited until the door closed before bursting into tears. “Pull yourself together, damn it,” she said, careful to keep her voice a whisper as her eyes returned to the magazine.
Of course the article also mentioned Caroline and Hunter’s divorce, postulating that it was guilt that had driven them apart. It made no mention of his affair with a paralegal, which was what had hammered the final nail into the coffin of their marriage. Not that this affair had been any more significant than the ones that preceded it. Not that it had lasted any longer or was any more intense than the others. It was just the latest of a continuing series of affairs that had taken place in the aftermath of Samantha’s disappearance. But while Hunter’s infidelities might have contributed to their growing estrangement, it was undoubtedly her coldness, her unrelenting resentment that had been responsible for those affairs in the first place. Guilt had indeed driven them apart. And she was as guilty as he was.
More so.
Near the end of the article was a picture of Caroline outside Lewis Logan High, taken just after she’d resumed her teaching career. Beside it was a more recent photo of Hunter walking beside an unidentified young woman. Maybe a client or business associate. Maybe not. MOVING ON, read the caption beneath the pictures.
“Moving on,” Caroline repeated angrily, tossing the magazine into the trash can beside the door on her way out of the washroom. If she was so busy moving on, why did she feel more stuck than ever?
“You fainted?” Peggy’s face reflected both confusion and concern.
“Well, I didn’t exactly faint.”
The two women were sitting at a corner table in Costa Brava, a Spanish restaurant on Garnet Avenue that was famous for its tapas. A big-screen TV on one of the restaurant’s minimalist whitewashed walls was broadcasting a satellite feed of a Spanish soccer game that was being watched by a handful of enthusiastic fans at the bar. Shouts of “Olé” periodically pierced the air.
“One minute you were standing up, the next minute you were on the floor. That’s fainting, as far as I’m concerned. Why didn’t you call me?”
“I can’t call you about every little thing.”
“You don’t call me about anything anymore. I hardly ever see you. It’s a good thing your mother invited us over for Thanksgiving dinner.”
“And wasn’t that a treat?” Caroline looked out the window at the cloudless Saturday afternoon sky. She could almost hear the ocean roaring a few blocks away. “I’m terrified they’re going to ask me to resign.”
“That’s not going to happen.”
“Why not? It’s happened before.”
“All because of that stupid news story,” Peggy said, shaking her head and swallowing the last of her wine.
“It was my fault.”
“It was not your fault. Stop being so quick to accept the blame for everything.”
“I don’t think I could stand it if I lose this job.”
“You won’t. Your principal knew what had happened when she hired you.”
“The story had died down by then. Now, thanks to all those stupid articles, it’s back again. The damn thing just never goes away, does it? It’s like herpes.”
Peggy laughed. “Thanks for the image. Eat your lunch.”
Caroline speared a forkful of black beans and rice, watching most of it slip back onto her plate. “My students have been talking about nothing else all week.”
“So give them something else to talk about. Give them a surprise test. They love that.” Peggy signaled the waiter for a refill of her wine. “Okay, I’ve been patient long enough. Are you ever going to tell me?”
“Tell you what?”
“Come on, Caroline. How long have we been friends? You don’t think I know when you’re keeping something from me?”
Caroline put down her fork and stared across the table at her friend. “Michelle told you about Lili, didn’t she? She told you about Calgary.”
Peggy leaned forward in her chair, her elbows resting on the table. “She didn’t mean to let it slip. She assumed you’d already told me. The question is, why didn’t you?”
“I’m sorry. It all happened so fast.”
“It happened more than a week ago,” Peggy corrected, obviously hurt. “What’s up, Caroline? Don’t you trust me?”
“Of course I trust you.”
“Then why didn’t you tell me?”
Caroline looked toward the ceiling, as if the answer might be hiding behind one of the low-hanging chandeliers. “I don’t know. I guess I was afraid.”
“Of what?”