by L. G. McCary
“I’m sorry, honey. I’m so sorry.”
She sniffs, and tears roll down her cheeks. I haven’t seen her like this in a long time. We sit and cry together in the heat of the car. She doesn’t say anything else, but I can feel a wall falling down.
We grab food and head home, talking about anything but what happened. Instead of lunch, Rylie asked to take a nap for the first time in her entire life.
A text from Renee arrives as I hear the garage door opening.
OMG, what happened?
I mute her number. She can get her news somewhere else.
David drops his bags and hugs me in the dining room. “Is she okay?”
“I don’t know,” I say.
“I’m going to go over the by-laws tonight, but I’m pretty sure they have to fire him,” he says. “And if they don’t, they’ll have a lawsuit on their hands.”
I breathe in slowly. The whole idea of suing makes me sick. “Probably.”
“Charlotte, he verbally assaulted our child!” David hisses. “Either they punish him, or we punish them.”
Rylie walks in from the living room. He picks her up and hugs her tight. She grunts as if she’s being squished.
“I’m hungry,” she says.
We sit down at the table to eat. David grabs both our hands to pray, but I don’t hear a word he says. Across from my seat next to Rylie another Charlotte materializes and stares at me. I can barely bring my fork to my mouth, and the food tastes like sand. How can I eat with Her staring at me like that?
Other messages are making my phone buzz, all from numbers I don’t recognize. Moms I’ve never talked to want to know what happened. I show one to David, and he shakes his head that I shouldn’t answer it. I mute my phone and put it away in a cabinet. I’m so glad we’ve refused to let Rylie have a cell phone until she turns thirteen.
Thirty-Seven
“Why do we have to go to church?” Rylie says, her eyes on the road outside the front passenger window.
“It will be good, sweetie,” I say as I turn into the church parking lot. I don’t really want to go myself, but I feel obligated to at least attend the worship service.
“No, it won’t,” Rylie frowns.
“He won’t be here,” I say.
“It doesn’t matter. Everybody else is going to be weird.”
“Well, they shouldn’t be. You didn’t do anything wrong,” I say. But I know she’s right.
We’re late and end up sitting in the very back. I’m glad we missed the greeting time. I still get a few waves from people. I can’t get comfortable on the pew, and it seems Rylie can’t either. She usually takes notes on the sermon, but today she scribbles and fidgets. I write the bare minimum just to keep my conscience from bothering me.
“See? Not so bad,” I say after the benediction. “I see Ellie waiting for you by the door.”
“At least she still likes me,” Rylie mutters.
Ellie has been so kind. She’s sent me messages every day since she heard about the mess to see how Rylie is doing.
“You can come get me if we need to leave early.”
“Whatever.”
I watch her meet Ellie, who wraps her in a big hug. She keeps Rylie under one arm as they leave through the back doors of the sanctuary toward the youth room. Halfway down the aisle toward our department, I freeze.
Greg is sitting on the front row. He’s seen me, so there’s no way I can avoid him. I never considered that he would come to church after the mess he caused. The sanctuary is still full of people, and I’m holding up traffic. I have to walk past him. I decide to walk as quickly as possible and try to get around him without speaking. Why did I come without David?
He stands as I come closer and stretches out a hand to me.
“I’m so sorry, Charlotte,” Greg says.
“I don’t think I should talk to you until the board makes their decision,” I say, pushing past him.
“Please, Charlotte! Tori left me.” His eyes are wild. “She left me last week, and now I’m going to lose my job on top of everything.”
The words do not compute. Greg slumps onto the pew and puts his head in his hands. I’m conscious of so many people around us, listening, and watching. I want to run away, but I can’t.
“I lost it. I wasn’t mad at Rylie. I wasn’t thinking straight because I woke up that morning, and Tori was gone. She was gone!”
My whole face is on fire. I have to get away from him.
“I just lost my temper. Please, Charlotte. They’re going to fire me.” He looks up with tears in his eyes. “I just lost my wife, and now I’m losing my job!”
“Tori left you?” I keep my voice low.
“I don’t know. I don’t know where she is. I don’t know anything. She walked out on me.”
I should say something. I should tell him to shut up. I should say I hope they do fire him. The words won’t come, and I simply stand, watching him cry on the front row of the sanctuary while familiar faces stare at us. Where is our pastor? Where is Darren? Someone has to get me away from here.
“I’m going to lose my wife and my job in the same week. Please tell Rylie I didn’t mean it,” he wipes tears away with a tissue. “Please, Charlotte. I’m so sorry. I’d give anything to take it all back.” He peers at me over the tissue. “I’m losing everything.”
“I’ll pray for you,” I say. It’s a lie, but it lets me leave. I finally hear our pastor as I walk away, so I hurry to the only safe place I can think of: the ladies’ room. Thankfully it’s empty. I stare at my bright pink face in the mirror and try to calm down.
It’s too much to fathom. Why would Tori leave? What could have happened? There must be more to this than her picking up and leaving. She would never leave him without reason.
I don’t want to go to Sunday school. Rylie was right. This was a bad idea to come to church in the first place. I pull out my cell phone and click on Tori’s name. I could send her a message, but this is not a text message conversation. This requires a phone call. Instead I select David’s number.
Tori left Greg. I don’t know why.
The message scatters into the airwaves, and I fiddle with my earrings in the mirror. David responds almost immediately.
What?!? When?
Last week. Greg told me. He’s here at church.
What is he doing at church? Do not talk to him!
David has been reading up on the legal issues to see what we need to do to sue. I don’t know that I want to drag Rylie through a lawsuit, but if the school doesn’t fire him, we may have to.
I got away as quick as I could. I told him I can’t talk to him until the board makes a decision.
A twinge of guilt gnaws at me. I’m supposed to be forgiving. I’m supposed to model the right behavior for Rylie. What is the right behavior here?
“Charlotte! How are you, ma’am?” Yvonne’s voice echoes behind me as she opens the bathroom door.
“Fine,” I answer flatly. I put my phone back in my purse and wash my hands.
“I was worried about you and poor Rylie and David after this week.”
There it is.
“Yes, well—”
“Hannah told me what happened when I picked her up from school,” she says, shifting her purse on her shoulder.
“Hannah was there?” I already know she wasn’t. Rylie told me who was in the hallway. If Yvonne can find a way to answer my question that doesn’t make her daughter sound like a gossip, I’ll be impressed.
“She told me Greg lost his temper.” Good job dodging the question, but I’m not in the mood.
“So she saw it?”
“I...I don’t know. It sounded like there were a lot of people in the hallway that afternoon.”
I finish washing my hands without responding.
“I understand Greg may be losing his job?”
“I’m letting the school handle everything. I don’t think I should talk about it.”
“I heard that Tori left him.” I freez
e and look at her in the mirror. “Mrs. Black told me when I came in this morning.” Rylie’s Sunday school teacher. Of course she did. I decide not to say anything. Yvonne fiddles with her purse and finally says, “I certainly hope it isn’t true. Have you talked to Tori?”
“It is true.”
“She left him?”
“He’s in the sanctuary, so you can ask him yourself.”
“It’s such a terrible situation, especially since his STEM program was going so well at the school.”
I feel my jaw actually drop. Is she siding with Greg?
“I hope Tori won’t walk away from their marriage without trying counseling. I know Renee mentioned she had asked about a counselor a few years ago,” Yvonne says, looking at me in the mirror. Now my ears are hot, and I grip my cell phone.
“I’m sure Tori would appreciate that Renee is telling everyone that.” It’s out there now, and the words might as well have been a slap in Yvonne’s face.
“Oh, I don’t think she’s telling everyone,” Yvonne says, sputtering and moving her hands around like she’s searching for an excuse. “She mentioned it for prayer. I’m sorry, Charlotte. I thought you might tell me how I could pray.”
“No, I can’t.” Who am I right now? I never snap at people, least of all the mother of the child who is out to make Rylie miserable. “I honestly don’t want to talk about this.”
“I’m so sorry. Let Rylie know I hope she can get back to school soon.”
“We’ll see.”
“Are you not going to have her come back?”
I look her straight in the eye without saying a word. It only takes a moment for her to drop my gaze.
“Hannah was wondering when she’d be back.”
“Hannah was wondering?” I say. I can’t believe she’s blaming her nosiness on her kid. “I wasn’t aware Hannah ever talked to Rylie. About her, but not to her.”
I hurry out of the bathroom, leaving Yvonne staring after me in shock. I regret it. That will make things worse for Rylie. What is wrong with me this morning? We need to go home.
The hallway is thinning out as people head to the classrooms, but I bump into Grace, walking back from the coffee station.
“I’m so surprised to see you, Charlotte!” Her hug feels like a protective wall around me. “How is Rylie?”
“You heard what happened?”
She looks at the floor and smoothes her chin-length gray bob behind her ear. “Renee told me. Is there anything I can do?”
In a flash, I’m so angry I can barely think straight.
“How about banning Renee from making prayer requests for the next few months? I think that would solve half my problems.”
Grace’s face falls, and she looks at her coffee cup. Guilt floods over me. I have to go home. I’m offending everyone around me, and Grace is the last person I would ever want to hurt.
“I’m sorry, Grace. I didn’t mean—”
“No, I’m sorry. I’ve actually talked to her about it.” She holds onto her cup for dear life and sighs. “She doesn’t see it as a problem. But I see it, Charlotte. It’s a big problem.”
“I’m going to get Rylie.”
The hallways are empty as I hurry to the youth room. I spy Rylie at the back of the room between Jerry, the youth pastor, and Ellie. She’s hiding. She looks relieved when she sees me, and we run to the car.
“Mom, you look so freaked out. What happened?”
I could lie, but she would know. She always knows. “Mr. Butler was here.”
Rylie’s eyes widen. She buckles her seatbelt and waits for me to finish.
“Aunt Tori left him.”
“Good.”
“Well, not good, honey. That’s not something to rejoice over.” My voice is feeble. I agree with her.
“I know. But still,” she says, crossing her arms with an angry smile. “Good.”
Thirty-Eight
I don’t think David has driven Rylie to school since her first day of kindergarten, but I’m grateful he’s here for her first day back. It’s been almost two weeks since the incident. The high school principal, Greg’s boss, called us on Tuesday with the news that the board made Greg’s termination official. We waited another day so Mrs. Lewis could meet with us to discuss changes being made to hall monitoring. I was encouraged by that meeting, but David said he’ll wait and see. Our pastor called us the next morning to see how Rylie was doing, and David had a long conversation with him about the relationship between the church and the school, administrative practices, and federal regulations. I was too busy trying to ignore a dozen Other Charlottes in the room to pay attention.
My phone buzzes with a message from Ellie for Rylie.
Don’t forget the lock-in on Friday, it reads, followed by a series of goofy emojis. You have to show me your new dance!
I hand the phone to Rylie in the back seat. She reads the message, smiles a half smile, and hands it back.
“You ready, Ry?” David asks.
“I don’t want to go in,” she answers, sinking lower in her seat.
“Just be determined to have a good day,” David says, squeezing her hand. Watching her miserable face, I wonder if we should keep her home the rest of the semester and start fresh in the fall.
“Do you want me to come in with you?” I ask.
“No! No, stay in the car! I’m fine!” She scrambles out of the back seat and rushes away from our car without looking at us. Without looking at anyone. I watch her practically run to the front steps, eyes on the ground. She ignores Liana at the door and disappears inside. Liana turns away from the door, rolling her eyes. I wish I could hear what she said to Rylie. Maybe she was trying to be kind, but I don’t trust her. Not anymore.
At least Greg won’t ever be coming back. Mrs. Lewis’s secretary told me he didn’t behave very nicely during the disciplinary hearing and destroyed his chances of being reinstated. I probably shouldn’t know that, but it doesn’t surprise me.
David is saying something. “Charlie, are you there?” he says, gently putting a hand on my shoulder.
I look into his eyes and try to pay attention.
“Sorry, I was in my own world.”
“Thinking about what?”
“That I hate Greg.” I’ve never said that out loud before, but now I can’t take it back.
“A sentiment a lot of people probably share right now,” he says with a dull laugh as he drives out of the school parking lot. “Have you heard from Tori?”
“Not since she left him.”
My head is foggy. My ghost has been following me all around the house and outside for the last week. I’ve never seen Her this much, and it’s making me sick to my stomach. I’m exhausted from trying to figure out who She is and what She wants from me. Pretending to have migraines let me hide in my room as much as possible. I was going to call a psychiatrist, but every time I try to pick up the phone, I chicken out. I’m so afraid they’ll lock me up so I never see Rylie again.
“Charlie.” David is waving his hand in front of my face. We’re already home, and I’ve followed him into the house in a half trance. The room is filled with a half dozen Other Charlottes. One is sitting on the fireplace, staring into space. One is leaning against the doorway to the kitchen. Two others are pacing and trying not to look at me at all.
But none of those scare me as much as the one who is kneeling on the floor in front of me, weeping. I look up at David, and he has been talking again.
“I’m sorry. What?”
“Did you hit your head? You keep staring into space like I'm not even here.”
“I’m fine.”
“You are not fine!” he says, cupping my face with his hands. “Charlie, you are clearly not okay! You are scaring me!”
Scaring him? If I wasn’t so distracted by the screaming Other Me throwing things in the studio, I’d tell him to shut up.
“I’ve hardly slept since this whole mess started,” I say. “And all the migraines. I’m just tired.”
He stares at me for a moment with the same scared face as the Other Me behind him in the doorway. “Then I’m making you take a nap.”
“Okay.” Whatever will get him to stop talking to me. “I was going to take a nap anyway.”
He doesn’t believe me, so I yawn, looking away from the Other Me still weeping on the floor beside him. He leads me to our bedroom and sits next to me on the bed.
“I don’t know if we should have let her go back,” I say.
David bows his head and folds his hands in his lap. “I don’t know either. She’s tough, though, Charlotte. Tougher than either of us.”
My phone buzzes with a message from Morgan.
Did you know Hannah is telling people Rylie set up Greg to get him fired? I know that’s crazy, but I thought you should know. I got asked about it at choir practice last night several times.
I can’t process what I’m reading. I hand my phone to David and study the embroidered pattern on the comforter.
“That’s...” He stares at my phone and shakes his head. “That’s ridiculous.”
I take the phone back to write Morgan back. Who is Hannah telling?
The response is a list of names from the church youth group and FCS. Morgan promises me she’s been shutting down the rumor, but I know it won’t matter. David looks over the list. “You have got to be kidding me,” he growls. “How can she take his side? Yvonne and Reuben should be ashamed.”
Another Charlotte runs through the room, and my gut clenches as I realize that I’m going to make it even worse. Rylie is about to be the kid with the crazy mom looking for attention. They’re going to eat her alive. Yvonne is probably writing the prayer list right now, and I’m sure we’ll be at the top. I hate that woman. God forgive me, but I hate her and her stupid child.
“Everything we could do will make it worse,” I whisper, biting back tears.
“So I guess we pray.”
Pray. I’m supposed to remember that. I’m supposed to ask God for help. So why am I the last person in a room to think of it? I nod, but I don’t know if I want to pray. If He is there, then what are all these Other Mes? I don’t recall seeing clones of yourself that are invisible to everyone else in Psalms or 2 Timothy. I wonder what the Bible says about ghosts. Or being crazy…
