Folie à Deux (35 page)

As physicality progressed it felt dangerous but with each additional foray, became comfortable. Our visit to Chris seemed scary but that feeling quickly abated when Kathy clarified her disagreement with prescribed safeguards. And finally, when Kathy came on board I felt lulled into an impossibly false sense of security that I could not be enveloped by the force of the rising tide. I’m watching the waves, I know the tide must be coming,
but I do nothing to save myself. There is now, very little time left before I drown under my salacious decisions.

Some time passes since the meeting with my Principal when I receive the second call to my classroom. Now it’s the Superintendent who would like to meet with me. This follows the letter placed in my permanent file detailing Barbara’s plan to prevent the further spread of rumors. Upon reading this letter the Superintendent summons me to his office.

George is a bombastic man who thinks he has much more power than is reality. The rural, regional school covers both ends of the economic spectrum and comprises five municipalities over one hundred square miles. George has been an employee of the district since its inception in 1975, first as a Vice-Principal, Principal and shortly after, Superintendent. By his own account, this is his small kingdom and he acts very much the king.

After I passed the initial interview with Barbara to begin my employment eight years earlier, I was called back to meet with George individually so that he could put his personal stamp of approval. I have always felt a connection to him from our first meeting because he has the ability to put a paternal spin on anything that comes across his desk.

His office, perched above the library, allows him to look down on all those meant to admire his lofty position. The stairs that lead to the administrative annex can be a lonely and stressful walk for any reason, making my march that much more dreadful.

“So, what’s going on?” he leads as soon as I sit down after a sincere handshake. His tone calm and reassuring. I try to convey the same gravity that beckoned him to summon me while not seeming guilty.

“Well it seems a female student who has grown attached has raised some eyebrows. So, Barbara and I sat down and planned
some damage control,” I reply. I’m immediately relieved by how convincingly my first opportunity to speak unfolds.

“Jim, from the day you started here, you’ve been nothing but professional. I remember interviewing you, proud to have found this diamond in the rough. You started at a high level and have only continued to grow. I mean, we picked you as our Teacher of the Year and you’ve certainly lived up to every bit of that honor. I would hate to see your reputation tarnished by something silly. I’ve read the letter and just wanted to ask if you needed anything. I’ve heard things myself but I’m not down there in the classroom so I thought maybe it wasn’t anything. But people talk and some want to put an explanation to this thing. I mean you’re a good looking guy so people wonder. You’re ok then?”

His overdone soliloquy only buys me time to create a response to his sanctimonious concern. “I’m fine and I have it under control. As a matter of fact, I’ve already spoken to Natalia and her mother and explained that things have to change. For my good but also for her daughter’s,” I lie.

The smile on his face hurts me. Beneath his posturing lies genuine concern, not only for Natalia and for the wellness of the school community but for me too.

I leave this meeting and feel the walls tightening. By the time I reach the bottom of the stairs I’m short of breath, loosening my necktie. The swirl of thoughts in my head range from, “Why did you ever get yourself into this?” to, “Walk back up there and tell him everything, it might be your only way out safely.”

This tension in my chest is neither a new feeling nor something easily put aside. I can barely function. Suspicion has reached as high as it will go before extending outside the school. Although I realize this stark reality and can feel the rumble in my stomach it neither controls nor suppresses my obsession.

Is it possible to remember the true beginning of a nightmare? I’ve never been able to pinpoint how I led myself into any fantastic catastrophe and this is no different. I feel as though dropped into the second act of a traditional three act tragedy. The constricting feeling in my chest peaks at Christmas. Dana takes the kids to her parents without me, our marriage so fractured that the decision is made almost automatically.

Unbelievably, even to me, I resort to where I think I will feel most comfortable and spend the day with Natalia, and Kathy, not my own children. I feel disgusting all day. Everything I see as I look around their townhouse reminds me that I am someplace I do not belong, the epitome of ectopic.

My thoughts are exclusively on my family and what they are doing. I wonder if they miss me, what they are eating and what toys I’m unable to assemble. I’m with Natalia today in body only, not in spirit and she knows it. I feel dreadful, unable to be where I want and impossibly trapped where I am wanted. I embrace my role as a lost soul and wander through two impossibly difficult days.

The culmination is February, Super Bowl weekend. It’s the end of the only life I’ve ever known. During my free period Friday morning I’m pulled away from my desk by a knock at the door. Certain it’s Natalia, I open it with a smile. Instead, I’m
shocked to find the superintendent. He rarely walks the halls unless a problem needs his intervention, in which case his gait and demeanor far precede him. I step aside and he enters.

He is calm but without preamble fires, “So did you have the conversation with that girl and her mother?”

I know that there is something more to his question because he exudes gruffness with, “That girl and her mother.” Despite his position he is far from refined. He makes great effort to display decorum with only middling success but like me, cannot hide his true nature.

No such effort is made here tipping me off instantly. “I did,” choosing a minimalist approach to avoid entangling myself with too many words.

“So it went well, meaning you don’t see her outside of class anymore?” He shoots back. It feels more like an interrogation now than concern.

“That’s right,” I say, “Only in class.”

He only mumbles, “Ok,” and sinks into thought. He is processing, clearly weighing my words against something else he thinks the truth. Some emotion I cannot discern overcomes him and it prompts him to turn and leave without a word. It may be anger or confusion or disappointment but this conversation strikes him on a visceral level.

Knowing something is wrong, I try to keep in him in my presence by making small talk as he’s almost out the door, I ask about a mutual friend, “So how is Dennis doing? Have you spoken with him lately?”

Truthfully, I’m sizing him up to determine what is happening. Upon hearing my lame response to his interrogation he seems on a mission, driven by his momentary reflection. Despite my diversionary question, as he is already beyond the threshold
of my door, he barks without breaking stride, “Dennis is fine last time I spoke to him.” I close my door and run to the wastepaper basket behind my desk, insert my face and vomit.

The second half of my day is a blur. I change all of my lesson plans and assign individual work. I sit at my desk and stare at my computer screen wondering what will happen. My drive home is equally as mechanical until I receive a call from Tommy, Maggie’s boyfriend. Tommy has been a student in my class for two years and is always friendly. He greets me with, “Hey man I just wanted to give you a heads up. Maggie’s math teacher told her the Prosecutor’s office is coming to talk to her Monday.”

His words are confusing but I’m further dumbfounded by his nonchalance. I can only conclude that this call is a favor but anger overrides appreciation for feeling blindsided. In an overwhelming moment of epiphany I know this is how my affair will finally end. My lies are about to be completely depleted and I am helpless.

“Huh? What about? I mean why are you telling me this?” I play naive but think I’m transparent, even to a fifteen year old boy at this point.

“Well apparently it has something to do with Talia,” he pauses and catches himself, fearing he may offend, “I mean I know there’s nothing going on, but you know how you guys spend a lot of time together because you’re helping her with her dad and stuff? Well I guess people are talking and somebody said something to the wrong person and now the cops are in on it. I mean don’t worry because there’s nothing going on so there’s nothing to worry about.”

I’m devastated by his conviction of my infallibility.

He never asks me the truth, drawing his own conclusion from the person I portray in front of his class. The man he knows as his
teacher is completely incapable of something so perverse. I want to cry, seemingly the only thing left. I’m eager to know more but don’t want to raise suspicion by asking for details. I thank and assure him that it’s just the product of, “People who like to talk.”

Unfortunately, I’m only ten minutes from home, so I have little time to debrief Natalia. I call her and relay Tommy’s horrid news. She tells me emphatically, “Jimi, I have no idea what this is about.”

Her silence confuses me because I don’t know if she is simply afraid, behind all of this or just as thunderstruck as me. In a ploy to keep a tighter leash on my actions, Dana applied to direct the winter play at my school and was hired. Tonight is opening night so she is already gone by the time I arrive home. As I’m making dinner Talia calls back. I step away nervously, “What’s up?”

“I talked to Maggie,” she greets, short of breath.

“She told me about her math teacher. It was Maggie, Meagan, Katie and the teacher who had lunch this week. Meagan made some comment about a teacher she has a crush on and right after she said it, everyone looked at one another. When the teacher noticed she said, ‘What? What was that for?’ It was then that Meagan told her how she knew there was something going on between Natalia and Mr. Cunneely.” None of what she says makes sense and seems like someone is lying.

My mind races to the worst imaginable consequences, but I quickly chase them to avoid a panic attack. I settle on the realization that if any of this is true at least I have a starting point. Whatever happened during that lunch led someone to report to George. George confronted me today before he called the police to make sure he was justified. I settle on that basic chain of events to stop my mind from wandering so I can begin to solve the next step.

The feeling that washes over me is indescribable, waves of nerves and nausea and an instinct to flee from everything, including Natalia. It’s paranoia that everyone is out to harm me and that this is Natalia’s fault or Kathy’s or even Maggie’s. I blame Dana for not being a better wife and my parents for not being better parents.

I’m cracking, looking for someone other than me to help shoulder this colossal burden. I pace my house, watching my kids do kid things. They play with their toys and watch television and I think of all the times I could’ve been a better father. My heart breaks and I feel like crying but can’t. I imagine this to be like having a terminal illness, waiting to die. The end is imminent but I do not and cannot know when peace will actually arrive.

After a fitful evening, I lie in bed but do not sleep. I have no idea what will happen tomorrow or the next day and yet somehow there is still absolutely no possibility of ending my dalliance. Severance never even presents itself as an option through the entirety of this turmoil. Now, even as I’m almost certainty that my employer knows and has notified the authorities, I do not distance myself from Natalia.

Quite the opposite, I call her first thing in the morning and ask, “Is there any time today that I can come over and speak to you and Mama?” I still play the subtle psychological games to make sure she is ingratiated to me. I tell Dana that I’m going to run errands which buys me a few hours. Instead, I go to Talia’s house and the three of us sit in the living room as I tell Kathy and Natalia all that I know. Natalia looks how I feel, stunned to the point of numb. Paralysis coming from the fear of feeling anything, the truth unimaginable. She seems to sense the reality that everything is crashing down and no matter how I try, I cannot understand why she is taking this so hard.

Kathy is eerily calm as if she knows something she’s not sharing. I wonder continuously if she is blissfully ignorant to the magnitude of all I’m describing. “Well, Natalia certainly isn’t going to say anything, and if anyone asks I’ll just say that I know every time you’re here and I’m fully supportive of you being her mentor,” she unsuccessfully tries to reassure.

Kathy oversimplifies everything to the point of sounding ludicrous. Her blasé appeasement of the concerns for my life drives me further into a panic. “Ok, good,” is all I say because it’s all I can. I realize that anything else would be attempting to rationalize with an irrational person.

Natalia and I go downstairs to her room before I need to leave. We lay on her bed and she puts her head on my chest. Both of us silent as we wonder. She puts her hand on my stomach, gently rubbing an innocent place and I wonder if she is trying to have sex. I don’t feel attractive in this state of anonymous trepidation but I think that an escape from the enormity, if even momentary might help.