“Let’s just call it an educated guess.”
Stella batted her eyelashes, then smiled unpleasantly. “I’m sorry your son is struggling, Barbara.” Her voice was so cool and composed suddenly. It was unsettling. “I can imagine that would be extremely difficult for someone like yourself, who really values what’s ‘normal.’” Stella’s fingers hooked the air. “But nothing happened to Cole here. Not under my roof. And now I’d like for you to get your bony, judgmental ass the fuck off my porch.”
And with that, Stella stepped back and slammed the door.
By the time Barbara made it down to Ridgedale Elementary School and was walking down the hall to Cole’s classroom, it was past four o’clock. Luckily, she saw through the small glass window, Rhea was still there, seated at one of the tables writing out some kind of card.
After their run-in, Barbara was absolutely convinced Stella knew more than she was telling. Otherwise, why would she be so defensive? But Barbara needed one last piece of proof before presenting her case to Steve: that nothing could have happened to Cole at school.
Barbara knocked on the door and kept her face near the glass. Rhea frowned as soon as she looked up. She was probably about to leave for the night and didn’t want to get hung up. Slowly, Rhea closed the card, then slid it into her bag. After forever, it seemed, she waved Barbara inside.
“What can I do for you, Barbara?” Rhea asked flatly, gathering her things. She hadn’t even looked at Barbara. There was something wrong. Rhea wasn’t at all her usual bubbly self.
“I wanted to talk some more about Cole,” Barbara began carefully. “If you have a minute.”
“Yes, I heard about some of your concerns.” Rhea’s voice was coated in ice and pointy things. “At length.”
At length? Barbara blinked at her. And then it occurred to her with a creeping unease. Barbara had stopped by the PTA office to talk to some of the mothers there, and she may have said a thing or two about Rhea in anger. And she may not have been careful about who was around listening. Had it been one of Rhea’s fellow teachers? Or, God forbid, Rhea herself?
“I’m only trying to do what’s best for my son,” Barbara said. She wasn’t about to admit to saying anything specific, not if Rhea was going to be vague. “I’m sure you understand.”
“My shirts are too tight?” Rhea said, crossing her arms over her—precisely the point—very clingy top. “Oh, and I wear too much makeup. That’s right, it’s all coming back to me. Enlighten me, how is either of those related to my teaching ability?”
“Well, that’s taking what I said quite out of—”
Rhea held up a hand. “On second thought, I don’t even want to know.” She walked over to a short stack of papers on a nearby table, brought them back, and slid them into her bag. “Now, what is it? I’m on my way home.”
“We had Cole evaluated by that doctor you suggested,” Barbara offered. It was something of an olive branch.
“Really?” Rhea looked genuinely taken aback. Because Rhea was judging Barbara, too: stubborn, inflexible know-it-all. She’d heard it all before. “What did he say?”
“That Cole’s behavior is the result of a trauma.” A small lie with a noble purpose.
Rhea’s eyes were wide. “My goodness, what trauma?”
“We’re trying to figure that out. We were hoping you could help.”
Rhea’s face tightened. “Nothing happened to Cole here, Barbara. If that’s what you’re suggesting again. I thought we already discussed this.”
But Barbara needed to push. She needed to be absolutely sure before she went to Steve. Otherwise, he’d never listen. “Well, I’m sure that you didn’t mean for it to. But there are nineteen children, Rhea. Surely you can’t have your eye on every single one of them all the time.”
Rhea hung her head and let her shoulders drop. She took a deep breath before she looked up. “Listen, Barbara, I understand how difficult this must be for you and your family,” she began, as though she had mustered the very last of her patience. “It’s so painful for a parent to watch a child suffer. I know what you’re feeling and—”
“Wait, I’m sorry, what did you just say?” Rage flashed in Barbara’s gut. “You know what I’m feeling? Excuse me, Rhea, but you don’t even have children. How dare you say you know what I’m feeling?”
Rhea looked like she’d been slapped. But that wasn’t a judgment, it was a fact. Rhea didn’t have children. It wasn’t Barbara’s fault if Rhea was the kind of person who could be unaware of the gaping hole that created in the center of her life.
“To each his own, of course,” Barbara went on, just to clarify. Because she wasn’t suggesting that everyone needed to have children. Only those people who wanted to claim they knew what it was like to be a parent. “Not everyone was meant to have a family.”
Rhea nodded, frowning with exaggerated thoughtfulness. But now there was hate in her eyes. “You know, Barbara, all these years, I’ve been wondering: Why me? Why did I have to have a hysterectomy when I was only twenty-six?” Her voice quaked. “And here you had the answer all along: I just wasn’t meant to have a family.”
Barbara’s eyes went down to Rhea’s perfectly flat midsection. Well, how was she supposed to know? “I didn’t mean to suggest . . .”
But there was no point. They both knew exactly what she’d meant. And Rhea was already reaching for her coat.
“I am genuinely sorry that Cole is hurting. I care about him very much.” Rhea was all business as she crossed the room and opened the classroom door. “But if something happened to him, it didn’t happen here.” She waved a hand toward the hall, ushering Barbara out the door. “And now, Barbara, you really do need to go.”
RIDGEDALE READER
Print Edition
March 18, 2015
Essex Bridge: An Area Marked by Tragedy