“Because, right or wrong, the idea of leaving is worse than the reality of staying.”
His breath clouded around his face. “The makings of an ideal marriage right there.”
“It’s a marriage,” I argued. “None of them are ideal.”
“Then why do people do it? Get married?”
I kicked at the uneven earth, shoulders moving. “Well, we got married because I was pregnant.”
“Why do people stay married?” Noah pressed.
“Because not everything needs to be—or should be—easy in life.” My voice grew with each word. “Sometimes the most meaningful things are difficult, and painful, and costly.”
Noah let the quiet creep in around us before piercing it again. “This is meaningful to you?”
“It’s . . . important to me.”
“You’re important to me. More than our marriage.” Noah breeched the space between us, expression solemn, eyes more so. “If you need something else—someone else—I won’t let some patriarchal custom get in the way of your needs.”
“You wouldn’t mind if I divorced you?” Even as I asked it, I untangled a small branch from the ends of his hair and combed at the dark ends once it was freed.
His gaze lowered to the thorny twig in my hand, interpreting something in it I could not decipher. “Sometimes the most important gift we can give our spouse is that of letting them go.”
Twenty
There weren’t enough hours in the day to complete everything I had to. Basically, it was the typical Monday of a working mom who’d taken on too much with too little left to give.
Rushing out the door after finishing a phone conference I’d taken at home, I noticed Andee’s backpack propped against the wall. Double-checking the time, I confirmed she’d left for the bus over an hour ago.
Shuffling her pack into my arms with the rest of my bags, I rushed into the garage. Noah’s car was gone.
The pristine streets of our gated community transformed into a racetrack as I sped down them, calculating the latest I’d arrive at the office given the unplanned stop at Andee’s school to drop off her bag. Connor and I had a standing appointment every Monday at nine to go over the week, so if I was lucky and traffic was on my side, I’d only be a few minutes late.
The moment Prescott Prep came into view, I reached for Andee’s bag, prepared to fly out as soon as I punched the SUV into park. As I headed for the main entrance parking, a drove of students milling along the track in gym clothes caught my attention. Andee had gym first period—every high school girl’s worst nightmare of a class schedule.
Pulling into an empty student parking spot near the track, I decided I’d hand off the backpack to her directly and circumnavigate the office’s involvement. The less attention drawn to Andee these days, the better.
Scanning the track until I spotted her, I was surprised to see a group of students clustered around her. A self-proclaimed loner, she hardly appeared alone.
It wasn’t until I had a moment to assess the scene that I realized this wasn’t a group of friends commiserating through first period gym together. Four boys and a couple of girls were circled around Andee, trying to get her attention, although she wasn’t responding as she trudged along the track. Most of the students were running, and I could faintly make out the gym teacher holding a timer, hollering at students as they passed him. Did they really still subject students to timed runs?
Andee was doing her best to ignore the others around her, but her fists were balled at her sides and her posture hinted at frustration. Rolling down the window, I couldn’t make out what was being said to her, though it was obvious they weren’t words of support or encouragement.
A couple of the boys I recognized from the scene at the bus line, but the girls I didn’t know. They were your standard-issue high school “it” girl, complete with shiny, straight hair, and precisely calculated hip sway.
I fought the urge to lunge out of the SUV and stomp toward the track to shoo them away with a parental sneer or quip, knowing Andee’s mortification would reach no limit. Besides, she seemed to be handling it well—ignoring people instead of attacking them.
Instead of that reassurance comforting me, it did the opposite. Watching my daughter be tormented as she looped around the high school track, no teacher intervention to break it up while she put one foot in front of the other, lips sealed and gaze downward, had me questioning my advice of ignoring and enduring instead of fighting back.
Principal Severson had assured me these students Andee was attacking were doing nothing more than acknowledging her in passing with a smile or a simple greeting, but what I was witnessing on the track—what I’d seen in the bus loop—painted a different picture. Watching her stay silent as her peers harassed her was worse than any meeting in the principal’s office due to her apparent “delinquent” behavior.
Throwing open the door and dragging her backpack out with me, I started for the track, framing what I was going to say to the gym teacher for his careless ignorance of an unhealthy situation taking place right in front of him.
Andee and the other students were rounding the track when a different boy jogged up behind her and, without so much as a break in his stride, snapped her bra.
My vision flooded red.
“Hey!” I shouted, breaking into a jog in my heels and skirt, ready to lay into the smirking asshole, when Andee’s robotic façade crumbled.
Spinning on him, her fist came around so fast the guy never saw it coming. She punched him square in the throat, shouting a string of expletives as he stumbled back, grabbing his gullet as if he was suffocating. The crowd around him caused a commotion, garnering the teacher’s attention.
The girls herded around the gasping boy, pawing at him as though he were a dying animal, while the guys waved their gym teacher over, pointing between Andee and the injured boy. Hustling toward the track, I dropped Andee’s backpack in my rush to intervene.
After blowing his whistle, the gym teacher shouted, “Wolff! Get off my track now! Straight to the office!”
“Excuse me?” I bellowed.
Heads whipped in my direction.
“Did you see what happened?” I continued, pointing at the boy still coughing and rubbing at his throat.
“I saw one student physically attack another. That’s what I saw.” The gym teacher adjusted his gym shorts, blinking at me with a look that suggested I was not welcome on “his” track.
“Yeah? And did you see what happened before that?” I glared at the crowd of students who’d separated themselves from Andee and were gaping at me like I was twirling samurai swords. “Sexual harassment bordering on sexual assault?”
A couple snickers echoed from the students.
“Let me guess? A wink is considered sexual assault these days by you people’s standards.” The gym teacher smirked at me.
“My people’s?”
“The Me Too movement people,” he said, shrugging.
“Yeah, the truth is real inconvenient sometimes, isn’t it?” My arm lifted in Andee’s direction. “This whole group of students was harassing my daughter. This boy put his hands on her inappropriately. “
“Coach, all Ty did was snap the girl’s sport’s bra.” One of the boys strolled up to the gym teacher, one hand covering his chest. “It was a practical joke.”
“And would it be a practical joke if I snuck up behind you and snapped your jock strap?” I countered, ignoring the charming smile he’d aimed my way.
“Sure it would, because I can take a joke. Unlike some people.” His voice elevated as his gaze trailed in Andee’s direction.
“I think I took that practical joke pretty well actually.” Andee formed a twisted smile as she raised her fist. “In fact, why don’t you come over here and let me remind you how well I handle all of you assholes’ sense of humor.”
I rushed in front of Andee to keep her from cold-cocking anyone else. “Let’s go,” I said to her, waiting until she moved toward the pa
rking lot. “I’m taking my daughter out of school for the day.”
“I’m reporting you to the office, Andee Wolff,” the gym teacher shouted after her.
“His throat ran into my fist.” Her hands lifted as she continued tromping away from the track. “It was a total accident.”
I had to bite my cheek and look away to keep my amusement concealed.
“I hope you’ll use the day to have a good talk with your daughter about playing nice with others.” The teacher followed me to the edge of the track. “She has issues with authority and following the rules.”
My fingers curled as I made myself exhale. Giving him a once-over, I made it clear what I thought of my findings. “If you fall into the category of authority around here, I’d be throwing my share of punches too.”
Dropping my sunglasses over my eyes, I strolled back to the SUV Andee had already stuffed herself inside.
“That girl is a menace to society!” he bleated after me.
“What can I say?” My shoulders moved beneath my suit jacket. “She’s got all kinds of positive attributes.”
I didn’t know if he heard my response, and I didn’t care. Like so many aspects of my life, I felt as though the blindfold had been removed and I was seeing reality for what it was, instead of what I’d been told it was.
After retrieving her backpack from where I’d abandoned it, I held it out for her when I opened the driver’s door.
“I was only planning on dropping this off,” I said, while she laid the bag in the back seat. “Kicking the hive of the patriarchy was not in my crosshairs, I swear.”
Trying to gauge her general mood, I glanced at her slumped in her seat, arms wrapped around her legs she had tucked to her chest. She could have been pissed beyond compare or mortified past measure, but for once, her demeanor read little else than mild contemplation.
“Are you mad at me?” Her head turned to look out her window.
My throat tightening, I reversed out of the parking spot, eager to get off of school grounds. “I’m the opposite of mad.”
“You’re glad I punched some guy in the throat?” Andee’s voice gave away her surprise.
“And proud,” I added.
Her head swiveled my direction, and I let her stare at me while I kept my focus out the windshield.
“Proud?” she echoed. “This coming from the same person who told me I couldn’t just attack someone because I ‘felt like it’?”
Passing by the main office, I didn’t bother to sign her out. It was a day made for breaking rules.
“I didn’t know the whole story because someone refused to reveal it to me.” I glanced her way.
“I didn’t think you’d care if I did tell you,” she whispered, tucking her chin over her knees.
“I know.” My hands slid down the steering wheel as I blinked away tears. “I was too distracted in my own world to notice the fine print . . . like always. I’m sorry.”
Andee’s head tipped my direction. “It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not,” I said, shaking my head. “How long has it been going on?”
She was quiet a minute, conflict knitting her expression together. “Since last winter.”
“What happened last winter?”
She shifted in her seat. “I broke up with some guy.”
My head whipped her way for a moment. “What guy?”
“No one you know. It only lasted a couple of months. We got together after Miss Evelyn left.”
“Why didn’t you tell me or your father you were dating someone?” I asked, managing to keep calm despite finding out my fifteen-year-old daughter had been dating someone without either Noah or me knowing.
In truth, that shouldn’t have come as such a surprise.
“You were too busy to notice when the milk was out. I didn’t exactly think you’d care about some ignoramus I went on a few dates with.” Andee played with the ends of her hair, chewing at her lip. “Plus, he was a senior.”
“You were dating a senior when you were a freshman?”
Her face pinched together. “Yeah?”
Merging onto the freeway, I collected myself before saying anything else. “What did breaking up with this senior have to do with what I witnessed today on the track?”
Andee blew out a long breath.
“Were they all friends or something?” I continued.
“Not really. I mean, a couple of the guys played on the basketball team with him, but it wasn’t like they hung out a lot.”
“Then why have these kids been harassing you?”
“Because they’re assholes,” she muttered, scratching her forehead. “And because this senior might have blasted out to the whole school some photos I sent to him when we were dating.”
My eyes narrowed. “Pictures?” As soon as I said it, I understood. “Oh, fuck.”
“Pretty much my exact sentiments when I realized everyone at Prescott had naked pictures of me saved on their phones.” Her forehead tipped against her knees. “Ever since, I’ve been labeled with a big fat E for Easy. An easy target. An easy lay. Take your pick.”
My eyes were welling, but I blinked the tears away. “I’m so, so sorry, Andee. That boy had no right to share those photos of you, and the rest of them had no right to harass you. Kids are brutal.”
She scoffed. “Humans are brutal.”
“What happened on the track . . .” My throat moved. “Have those boys touched you, forced you . . . in any other ways?”
“What? Like have they raped me?” Her directness caught me off guard. “I already told you, if they so much as tried, I’d rip their dicks off and feed them to the biology teacher’s python. That’s a guarantee.”
The corner of my mouth twitched. “I don’t doubt it.”
“They’re cowards—bra snapping, ass grabbing, and flicking tongues the peak of their courage.” She adjusted the temperature dial on her side, eyes vacant.
“That still constitutes sexual assault,” I said, shaking out my hands one at a time when I realized they were trembling. “We can file charges and take them to court. Really see what big cowards they are when they’re being read a prison sentence.”
My jaw ground after I finished, knowing we could press charges and bring concrete evidence of harassment to the table, and those boys would still walk away with maybe a few hours of community service, possibly a counseling requirement, their records blemish free.
Justice for all was different than the justice an elite few were held to. When one’s race, gender, and economic standing rose to the top, rules faded to guidelines, laws muddied to suggestions.
“No.” Her voice filled the SUV. “I don’t want to file charges or take them to court or anything like that.”
“These boys broke the law. They sexually harassed and assaulted you and have been for what sounds like nearly a year.”
“No,” she repeated.
My eyes flickered toward her. “Why not?”
Her arms wound around her legs tighter. “Because they’d win.”
My instinct was to argue with her, to assure her evil was punished accordingly and the victims received the satisfaction of justice.
As a mother, I wanted to comfort her.
As a mother, more importantly, I had to prepare my child for the reality of the world.
“If you change your mind . . .”
“I know,” she said, the closest thing to a smile I’d seen from her in months forming.
“On the topic of dating boys,” I said, the corners of my eyes creasing, “are you and Austin . . .?”
“I broke up with him.”
My whole body relaxed. “And you didn’t send him any pictures of a compromising nature?”
“Some lessons you only need to learn once.” She huffed, absently playing with the temperature dial again. “Where are we going?” she asked when I took the next exit.
“I’m bringing you to work with me for the day. Maybe some of your courage and affinity for cowboy j
ustice will rub off on me.”
She gave me a funny look until she realized I was serious. Andee bowed her head in mock solemnness. “I will teach you my ways.”
The way she said it made me chuckle. “It’s too bad we can’t settle more conflicts with a throat punch, isn’t it?”
“Oh, my conflict resolution toolbox extends beyond the throat punch,” she replied, counting off on her fingers. “There’s always the elbow to the stomach, the flick to the back of the ear, and my personal favorite, the knee to the gonads.”
Twenty-One
“No Andee today?” Connor asked after examining my office the next morning.
“I think it’s safe to say she doesn’t have any plans to follow in my or her grandpa’s footsteps,” I replied, double-checking my briefcase to make sure I had everything I needed for court. “She’s at home.”
“Not at school?” he asked.
“Mental health day. And between you and me, I’m not sure if she’s going back to that place ever again.”
He formed an appalled face. “Public school?”
“Maybe. We’re exploring all options.”
“Sweet Jesus, not home school.” Connor blinked.
“There are several self-guided homeschooling programs for teenagers, so don’t get your hopes up that I’ll be retiring any time soon.” I sealed my briefcase, giving him a look. “I don’t know yet. Andee needs to decide what she wants to do. And I need to talk to Noah.”
“You haven’t had a chance to tell your husband about what happened yesterday?” Connor flipped off the lights and followed me out of the office.
“Let’s see. I was asleep when he came home, and he was asleep when I left for work at five.” We started down the hall, needing to be in court soon. “I haven’t had a chance to go over our tax return from 2010 with Noah yet.”
“You make marriage seem so sunny and idyllic.”
“Whatever you do, don’t use Noah’s and my marriage as some model to emulate.” I nudged him. “You figure out a way to screw up your marriage on your own, okay?”
Connor chuckled as I casually eyed the closed door of the office we were passing. Dean had done his best to avoid me yesterday and today after Friday night’s confrontation, but I wasn’t going to let him think I was content to pretend nothing had happened. I was going to confront him—I had to.
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