by L. G. McCary
A sharp pain stabs my neck behind my left ear. I fell asleep with my earrings in. I pull them both off and drop them on the nightstand.
I want to cry, but I have no energy for it. My tears have dried up. Hunger pangs gnaw at my stomach. I slip away to the hallway and out through the dark house to the kitchen.
I can still smell pizza. Rylie and David must have ordered it and eaten while I slept. Guilt claws at me, but I ignore it. The leftover pizza is in a bag in the refrigerator. I turn on the light over the sink and eat a slice cold. I’m thirsty after I finish, so I fill a glass of water and drink it.
And that’s when She appears. In the dark it is hard to see her, but She’s there on the other side of the counter. Her hand holds an invisible fork, and She eats off of an invisible plate, chewing and staring at me with blank dead eyes. Bite after bite. She jumps as if something has spooked Her from behind and vanishes in a shimmery fog.
“Charlie, you okay?”
David is standing in the doorway from the living room, bleary-eyed.
“I was hungry.”
“Oh. I got extra veggies for you.”
I hadn’t noticed what was on the pizza, but I recognize the flavors of green peppers, onions, and olives in my mouth.
“Thank you.”
“Why don’t you get your pajamas on and come back to bed?”
“Okay.”
His hands clench and unclench several times.
“Charlotte, are you awake?”
“Yes.”
“You’re not acting awake.”
“I’m going to have some more pizza.” I open the refrigerator and grab another slice.
He pulls a glass out of the cupboard and fills it with water before sitting down on the barstool where the Other Me had been.
“You’re still wearing the thing.” He points to my head. I pull the scarf off and set it on the counter. He takes a sip of water and smiles. “It does look nice. The haircut, I mean.”
A small voice somewhere deep inside is screaming in terror and demanding I do something. I don’t care anymore.
“Why were you so upset about it?”
I shrug. I want to eat my pizza and go back to bed.
“I like what it does for your eyes.”
I should say something. I should tell him to shove that comment where the sun doesn’t shine. I should tell him I’m going crazy. I should tell him there’s a ghost of me with the same haircut. Then he’ll call Darren or maybe someone else who can drug me until I don’t see Her anymore. But I don’t say anything. I take another bite of pizza.
He frowns. “Do you want me to make some tea? Or hot milk or something?”
I shake my head. David finishes the glass of water, but he doesn’t move. He watches my every step as I finish the pizza, wash my hands, and fill another glass of water. I down the water in gulps and put the glass in the dish drainer. He hands me his glass across the counter. I look at it for several seconds before realizing he wants me to put it in the drainer with mine.
I follow him back to our room. He turns on the bathroom light so I can find my pajamas. I stumble around, pulling off my blouse and pants, and sit on the bed to steady myself. The T-shirt and shorts are soft pink modal material that brushes against my skin like feathers.
I move into the bathroom and pull out a washcloth to remove the remains of my makeup. My hair startles me every time I catch a glimpse over the washcloth.
“Charlie, did you hear me?”
“No.”
“I said, ‘Why don’t you give it a few days before you change your hair?’ You might decide you like it.”
The tiny voice inside is hysterical, but I am numb. The washcloth is cold against my eyes and nose. I finish washing my face and brush my teeth. My side of the bed is somehow still a little warm from where I fell asleep on top of the covers.
Every step I take to run away from this thing, every attempt to make Her disappear has shoved me forward to being Her. I am turning into this woman that I don’t want to be, and there’s nothing I can do about it. She’s planned it. The hysterical screaming part of me is running out of breath.
David pulls me close and wraps one arm around my waist. I peer into the darkness at my clock glowing on the nightstand and wonder how long I’ll have to let him hug me before he falls asleep and rolls over.
Thirty-Six
The hallways at Fellowship Christian School are nearly silent as I hurry to Principal Lewis’s office. I pray I don’t run into any of the teachers I know. We had a flawless dance recital on Saturday, but only two days later, Rylie is in trouble. Why can’t we have a whole week without something going wrong for Rylie? I’m barely keeping my sanity right now. Our house was full of Other Charlottes as I left this morning.
My footsteps echo on the ivory tile as I walk this all-too-familiar path to find out what Rylie did and what her punishment will be. I pass the rows of green and sky-blue lockers. Brushing my hair from my face makes me shudder. I can’t get used to Her hair.
Morgan, Larry, Grace, and our pastor all came to see Rylie’s recital. Tori didn’t, which I know shouldn’t surprise me. It still stings. After our disastrous shopping trip, I thought that she really meant it when she said she wanted to come.
“Charlotte.” David’s voice makes me jump as he rushes to catch up with me.
My stomach sinks. If they called David, Rylie must have done something unthinkable. They never call him.
“Do you know what’s going on?” he asks, grabbing my hand in the doorway.
I shake my head and let him lead me into the office.
“Please go right in,” the secretary says. “She’s ready for you.”
“What happened?” I ask the principal as apologetically as possible.
“Mr. Madsen. Charlotte. I’m so sorry about this,” Mrs. Lewis says. I wish I didn’t know her face as well as I do because her seriousness is scaring me.
She gestures for us to sit down and straightens her glasses on her nose.
“Rylie isn’t in trouble,” she says, obviously choosing her words with care. “She’s in the library right now. I wanted to tell you personally what happened and what we have done about it. Rylie told me she got in trouble with you this morning on the way out the door to school?”
“Yes. She didn’t finish her homework.”
I knew her temper would get her in trouble at school. A bad morning at home always leads to a bad day at school. David sighs and sets his briefcase on the floor.
“She was a little angry when she came into the building this morning, and she told me that she was still angry after her first class,” Mrs. Lewis says. “And when Mr. Butler told her in the hallway to correct her posture, she told him to shut up and leave her alone.”
“I’m so sorry—” I begin, but David interrupts me.
“Why was Greg even talking to her?” he says, sitting up straight in his chair.
“What happened was absolutely not Rylie’s fault,” Mrs. Lewis says. “I want you to know I’m so upset and very sorry.”
I’m dumbfounded. Rylie sassed Greg, an administrator no less, and this woman is apologizing to us? It’s like the Twilight Zone.
The principal interlaces her fingers in front of her. “Mr. Butler lost his temper. Multiple students saw the same incident. He yelled in her face and called her an inappropriate name.”
“What?” I can barely process the phrase.
“I am so sorry, Mrs. Madsen. There is no excuse for his behavior.”
David puts his hands on his knees as if steadying himself. “What did he call her?” he says through gritted teeth.
The principal looks down at her desk and purses her lips.
“He called her a ‘rude little slut.’”
I look at David in horror, and he blows out a loud breath.
“He called Rylie what?” David seethes.
Principal Lewis clasps her hands in front of herself uncomfortably. “Mr. Butler is now on administrative leave until the sch
ool board can meet to discuss the incident. Again, I am so sorry. I apologized to Rylie, too.”
“Where is he now?” David says. His look is dangerous.
I am nauseated with anger. I want to find Greg and slap him.
“He was asked to leave campus and escorted to his car as soon as I became aware of the incident.”
“I want to know exactly what happened after that. What else did he say?” David says, flattening his palms over his knees as if trying to tamp down his fury.
“I’m told he tried to keep yelling at her and followed her around the hall, but Rylie stayed calm until she found her homeroom teacher.”
“How were there no other teachers around?”
“We were changing classes,” Mrs. Lewis says, smoothing the sleeves of her magenta cotton blouse. “Rylie went back to her classroom, and her teacher walked with her to my office so I could deal with the situation. He followed them both here, and I called security.”
“I don’t understand why there wasn’t another adult in the hallway,” David says.
“He was the hall monitor for that section this morning,” the principal says, looking sheepish. “The usual monitor called in sick.”
“I want to see my daughter right now,” I say.
“I sent her to the library with Mrs. Cates,” Mrs. Lewis says.
“Well, we’re going home immediately. Honestly, I’m not sure if I want her to come back to school until I know that Greg will not be coming back.”
“I completely understand that. I will work with her teachers to make sure she does not fall behind.” She walks to the office door and tells the secretary to bring Rylie.
“How long before he is fired?” David says.
“Well, there are some procedures we have to follow. I assure you, I am taking this extremely seriously. I will meet with the school board as soon as possible.” She covers her mouth with one hand and looks at me. “Mr. and Mrs. Madsen, above everything, I want my students to feel safe and loved here. I hope you know that.”
I stare at the floor, picturing Rylie cowering as an angry Greg calls her a word we don’t even allow in our home. I purse my lips to keep them from trembling.
“So you’re saying he followed my daughter all the way down that hallway screaming at her and calling her that? In front of everyone?” I say.
“Again, it was unconscionable, and I sent him home immediately.”
“He needs to be fired,” David says. “And I’m keeping Rylie home until he is. I don’t want her to be afraid to go to school because he’s here.”
There is a knock, and Rylie stands in the office doorway.
“Are you okay, honey?” I say, standing to meet her.
She nods, but she shrugs off my hand from her arm and won’t look at any of us. David steps around me and puts his arm around her shoulder.
“I’ve explained everything to your parents,” Mrs. Lewis says, trying to smile and failing. “They feel it is better for you to go home. I will talk to your teachers for you.”
I pull her chin up to make her eyes meet mine. It doesn’t take much anymore. She’s getting so tall. Her eyes flash, and I can tell she’s about to cry. For Rylie, that is worse than death in front of strangers. I need to get her out of here.
She takes a deep breath and blinks before her “game face” settles over her, hiding all her emotions like she does before competitions. I gently place my hand on her shoulder and guide her out of the office while David thanks the principal. There is only so far she can hold it in, and I can’t let her break in front of other people. David stuffs the school charter and the teacher honor code under one arm and puts the other around Rylie’s shoulders like a shield. We walk as quietly as we can through the empty hallways and out to the parking lot.
Rylie buckles into the front passenger seat, but she still won’t look at us or say anything. David pulls me aside and shuts the driver’s side door so she can’t hear.
“I’ll take the day,” he says. “I need to run back to the office and get my laptop. I left without it.”
“I’ll meet you at home then.”
He pulls me into his arms. For a moment, the sun shines on my shoulders, David holds me tight, and I imagine this is all a nightmare and I’ll wake up any second.
“Why don’t you take her to lunch and get something for me for later?” David asks.
“I don’t know if she’ll want to go.”
“I think she should. Tell her Daddy said so.”
He goes to Rylie’s side and kisses her on the forehead. He whispers something in her ear, but she stares resolutely at the floor of the car.
“Love you, Charlie,” David says. “I’ll see you at home in a bit.”
“What do you want for lunch?” I ask my daughter.
Rylie looks at me like I’ve asked her for the code for a nuclear launch.
“There’s a cafe that...” I falter. It’s the one Tori likes. “There’s a new one we could try. Over by the mall. How about that?”
“Whatever.” She crosses her arms and shrinks as deep into the seat as possible. I start the car and drive across town in silence. She sniffs over and over, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her hoodie. There’s a package of tissues in my purse. I know she doesn’t want to admit she’s crying, so I pretend I need a tissue myself and leave the package out on the console between us. Two stoplights later, she decides to take one. I listen to the air conditioner and try to sort my thoughts.
Greg screamed at my daughter in public. He’s supposed to be the adult. What is wrong with him? I’m suddenly furious with Tori. I'm furious with everyone at Fellowship, too. How many people have seen this coming and done nothing? Come to think of it, Larry should have done something. We’ve all been walking on eggshells around Greg for months. David is the only one who has challenged him openly.
“They have croissants,” I say. I just want her to talk to me.
Rylie shifts in her seat. “Whatever.”
“Rylie, you are not in trouble. Not at all.”
“I was already a freak, and this happens.”
“You are not a freak!”
“Whatever.”
I don’t know what to say, so I say nothing.
“Is Mr. Greg going to be fired?”
“Probably.”
“Good.”
I don’t know how to protect her from the storm that is coming. Everyone at church will hear about it. Tori will be so embarrassed. Will she even come to church at all? I wouldn’t if I were her.
“Aunt Tori is going to hate me.”
The sentence makes my blood freeze.
“Tori would never hate you. Never.” Why am I defending Tori?
“She already does. She didn’t come to my recital.” Her breath hitches. She’s crumbling.
“I’m sure she wanted to.”
“No, she didn’t. Mr. Greg doesn’t like me, so she can’t like me anymore either. That’s how it works when you’re married.” Rylie scrubs furiously at her eyes to hide the tears. Such adult words from my little girl. Surely she can’t think that. I don’t think that. David doesn’t think that. Is this how she sees our marriage?
“That’s not true.”
“It is true.”
“Rylie, it isn’t. Maybe sometimes that is true, but it isn’t true of Aunt Tori.” I stumble over the word “aunt.” I don’t know if she deserves the title anymore.
“Yes, it is.”
“Honey, she knows her husband...” Her husband what? Has a temper? Is a total jerk with a smug smile that I want to slap off his face nearly every week in church? I let the sentence end. Anything else would make it worse.
“He’s the only one who gives me demerits, Mom! I don’t get any from anyone else this year.”
“Yes, I know.”
Rylie looks angry, then sad. “Is that why Aunt Tori doesn’t come over anymore? Because I’m a problem?”
“Sweetheart, this is not about you.”
But even as I speak t
he words, I feel a spiderweb of anger wrapping around my heart. All of Greg’s comments about my parenting are flooding back to me. The rolling eyes. The scripture quoting. Tori should have stood up to him. She should have told him to back off. Why didn’t she do something?
Maybe because she agreed.
The thought is like a slap in the face. She stopped saying I was a wonderful mom a long time ago. All her concerned comments about my anxiety echo in my mind, suddenly hollow. She even wanted me to go on medication. She probably thinks she’d do a better job with Rylie. Aunt Tori would be more patient, more understanding, more dedicated. Aunt Tori doesn’t have panic attacks and hallucinations.
“I don’t want to go in,” Rylie says, jarring me out of my thoughts.
“We can wait until you’re ready.” I’m being ridiculous. This whole situation is so unbelievable. How does this happen at a Christian school? I’m sure David is ready to sue everyone by now.
“I want to go home,” Rylie mumbles.
“We at least need to get food for your dad.”
She stares at the ground and sniffs again. “Nobody did anything, Mom. Not a thing.”
“Your teacher did.”
“Yeah. But Liana didn’t. Nobody from my class would help me,” she says, tears falling down her cheeks. “He’s so stupid,”
“I agree. He is stupid.”
She looks straight at me, shock filling her face.
“Anyone who calls a beautiful, kind, funny, sweet girl like you a name like that is stupid. Stupid and horrible.”
Rylie smiles in spite of herself, but only for a flash.
“Why didn’t you tell him to leave me alone?”
Why indeed. Why didn’t I stand up to him? Why didn’t I tell him to leave disciplining her to someone else at school?
“I should have,” I say.
Rylie opens her mouth and shuts it again. She stares at me, her eyes hard, then slowly softening.
“I should have told him off, honey. I was a coward. I’m sorry.”
She looks away, her face unsure. “I tried to tell you,” she whispers.
She did. She told me a hundred times, and I didn’t listen. All those demerits, detentions, and countless extra essays. Guilt hangs on me like a lead coat, and I let my tears spill over. My poor baby.
