Homebound

by Kata Čuić

  “Because he will be my new boss, I don’t need to impress him in the way she’s implying.”

  They exchange a glance that has me backing slowly toward the door.

  “It’s been five years,” Liz pleads.

  “Go and put on that fine dress we sent ya for your graduation,” Mama commands.

  “That doesn’t even fit anymore!”

  The two of them advance for every step I retreat. Mama holds the phone with the screen facing me, so they appear like a strange little army of bad ideas.

  “Where’s Anne?” Liz questions. “Put her on the phone, and we’ll let her dress you.”

  Anne’s head pops up from her bowl of cereal at the kitchen table. “Auntie Liz, are we playing dress up?”

  “Yes,” Liz and Mama say in unison, sharing a mind even across the miles.

  “No,” I say firmly. “You need to eat breakfast. Mommy has to go to work soon, and you’re going to stay here with Grammaw.”

  “Darn grownups get to have all the fun,” she mumbles before going back to her new coloring book beside her overflowing bowl of morning sugar that her pappy spoiled her with at the grocery store.

  There are more goodies in this house than there ever were when I was little. Daddy’s gonna kill himself with all the overtime he’s been working the past five years to give her everything I ever dreamed of.

  “Lenore, please,” Liz begs.

  Knowing her stubborn train of thought, I cut a glance toward Anne and shake my head dramatically.

  Mama sighs, grabs my elbow, then hauls me back to my bedroom before closing the door behind us. “I’m in agreement. Ya need to put your best face forward. We’ll find ya a dress that fits. I’ll even braid your hair.”

  “I’m twenty-five not five,” I remind her. “This isn’t my first day of kindergarten. I’m a professional, grown woman who is a single mother to a daughter who is the center of my world. Even if the new principal is the handsomest eligible bachelor who doesn’t mind playing house with a child that’s not his own flesh and blood, he will be my boss. I’m not about to risk my job by playing with fire that’s only going to burn Anne.”

  I’m not about to snuff out the flame that’s been keeping me going all these years, but there’s no sense in making that point to deaf ears.

  Mama turns the phone toward her face. She and Liz exchange a disturbingly knowing glance. “You’re a beautiful, educated young woman, angel. Professional or not, ya really mean to tell me you’re gonna live the rest of your life alone? What are ya gonna do when Anne grows and leaves ya? When I leave ya? Who will be holdin’ your hand in the twilight of your life when your baby and your job ain’t the focus of your world anymore?”

  I take a deep breath to school my temper. I know right well Mama’s only concern is my wellbeing because I have the same high, full hopes for my daughter.

  Liz’s voice pipes up through the speaker. “You’ve been carrying this torch—and this beautiful burden—all alone for five years. Five years, Lenore. You deserve a happy ending as much as anyone.”

  “She’s not a burden,” I volley back. “And I gave him a happy ending.” I hope, pray, beg as much as I ever have. “You both found your happily ever afters. It’s not meant to happen for everyone, and I’ve made my peace with that. If you really love me, then you need to let sleeping dogs lie.”

  A male voice calls to Liz in the background of her bedroom. Mama averts her eyes to avoid seeing anything she might remotely perceive as untoward.

  “Just a second,” Liz replies to her fiancé. “I’m in the middle of something.”

  Mama rifles through my small closet that’s mostly full of Anne’s clothing for something suitable. “You’re darn right ya are,” she says as she holds the phone toward her choices. “If I can’t appeal to your womanly senses, Lenore, then I’m prepared to use your love for Anne to smack some sense into ya. Just ‘cause you’re willin’ to be an old maid don’t mean she should have to suffer without a father figure.”

  “Yes!” Liz latches onto Mama’s new battle plan. Honestly, it’s a wonder they haven’t used this angle until now. They’ve been feeding me the same lines for the past three years. “Operation Find Anne a New Daddy is a go!”

  “It is not.” I stamp my foot on the carpet for good measure. “I could be fired for fraternizing with the new principal. If you’re concerned about Anne’s best interests, then you should be helping me flourish in this new position instead of sabotaging me right out of the gate!”

  Mama fixes me with a curious expression. “How could ya be fired for findin’ love again?”

  “Because he will be my supervisor, and I will be his employee,” I explain. “Teachers can date other teachers. Principals can date other principals, but nary the two shall meet.”

  Mama checks the screen, silently conferencing with her comrade in arms.

  Liz shrugs. “I’m a physician’s assistant,” she admits. “I have no idea what a school hierarchy looks like. John is a doctor, which puts him higher on the pay scale than I am, but our shared hospital doesn’t forbid us from bumping uglies.”

  Mama’s expression curdles with distaste. “I love ya like another daughter, Liz, but that was too much oversharin’ for my taste.”

  Liz’s embarrassment is palpable in my tiny bedroom even from Chicago. “Sorry, Mrs. Wheeler. I just assumed you know where babies come from.”

  I plop down on my bed, gazing out the window at my old treehouse. Not only do I know where babies come from, but I also know when I’m beaten. These women who love me so fiercely aren’t about to call a truce on my heart anytime soon.

  I’ve rehearsed my lines with Mama and Liz as much as possible, but I’m still not prepared to walk through the doors of the building I once viewed both as a prison and as an escape.

  Nothing much has changed except my position, and even at that, I’m still the low woman on the totem pole. Most of the faculty is the same since I was in high school. In the deep mountains, teaching jobs don’t open up because of high turnover or because the district focuses on staying on the cutting edge of education. New teachers are hired when the old pass away. Simple as that.

  The hallways are empty as I make my way toward the auditorium for the all-hands faculty meeting to kick off the school year. Sweat trickles down my back, and it’s not just because this building is too old to be retrofitted with air conditioning. It’s not even because my ladies in waiting chose a form-fitting sheath dress for me to wear.

  I’ll be meeting my new boss at the same time as the rest of the faculty. I would never admit it to Liz and Mama, but my hopes are high for a kindred spirit of the educational persuasion. Someone who didn’t grow up in Martins Landing maybe. A fresh face in an old town who will help me forget about my history here—not at all in the romantic sense. More than likely, it’s a newly minted principal who’s only putting in a few years of low-performing administration, so they can build a resume to move on to greener pastures.

  I’d actually love the opportunity to turn around an underscoring school like this one.

  Perhaps one day I still can. As it is, I’m lucky to have completed my bachelor’s degree in education in seven years between going to college part-time while working to support myself and my baby. For now, I have neither the free time nor the funds to pursue a higher degree.

  I sneak in the double-doors in the back and slide into a seat in the last row.

  The county high school is small, even by rural standards. My class graduated a mere sixty students. Of course, we had so many drop-outs by senior year that the funding statistics are horribly skewed. There are maybe thirty teachers and support staff gathered in the first few rows of seating near the stage, chattering away. They laugh, joke with each other, and exchange easy smiles as they await the unveiling of the new hire. There’s an unmistakable air of excitement tinged with apprehension in the room.

  And they’re all dressed casually in jeans and nice shirts.

  I knew I should’v
e stuck to my guns this morning with Mama and Liz.

  I recognize all the faces—even the ones whose classes I never took. The assistant principal has to be going on seventy years old. The school secretary has been here since my own parents were in high school, but she looks exactly the same as she ever has. One of my favorites—the junior high art teacher—spies me and beckons me forward with a wide smile.

  I can’t hide forever. I run my fingers through my curled hair to smooth it out as I walk gingerly down the aisle in high-heeled shoes I haven’t worn since my interview for this position.

  Mrs. Shanahan throws her arms around me with a gleeful giggle. “Lenore Wheeler! You’re as beautiful as the day ya graduated! When I saw your name on the new roster, I couldn’t believe my eyes!”

  “It’s good to see you, Mrs. S. I’m only sorry it’s because Mr. Bennett passed away.”

  A chorus of “bless his soul” resounds from the group.

  The school librarian offers me a wry grin. “If anyone can do literature justice, it’s you. Course,” she backtracks on a laugh, “you were one of the only kids in this building who loved to read. For fun!”

  There was another, but I brush those memories away. Liz and Mama would be so proud.

  This isn’t so bad. Certainly not the gauntlet I’d built up in my mind this morning while getting ready for work. Then again, school was always one of my safe places. These are the most educated people in town, and they never looked down on me for not quite fitting in with my peers.

  The junior high history teacher eyes my high-falutin’ appearance with a frown. There’s always an exception to every rule. He never liked me, no matter that I aced all his classes. Mr. Hanna ambles toward me, his big belly leading the way. “Heard ya came back to town with a youngin’ in tow. Surprised ya found time to graduate college and get your teaching credentials.”

  I nod with my eyes downcast, a fair amount of shame blistering my cheeks. If not for the heels on my feet, I might hold my chin a smidge higher. “Yes, sir. I graduated college. The board reviewed my certifications when I applied for the position.”

  “Well, now,” Mrs. Shanahan preens, wrapping her arm around my shoulders and guiding me to sit in a seat beside her, blessedly taking the weight off my already aching feet. “Ya started at Northwestern, right? Did ya just move from Chicago then? Your mama and daddy must be burstin’ at the seams to have ya home! And a granddaughter to spoil, to boot!”

  “Yes, ma’am.” I don’t offer anything else. I might be a coworker, but I’m also a former student. I can’t quite shake off the feeling that they could still give me detention if I’m not respectful enough. As it is, several of the other teachers are eyeing me like I’m a walking dress-code violation.

  The junior high English teacher I expect to be an ally takes the seat on my other side, not disguising her visual inspection of me as she clucks her tongue with a shake of her head. “I suppose you’ll do. You’ll find our school runs much like the rest of town. Mind the peckin’ order, mind your manners, do your job, and you’ll get along just fine.” She sticks her tongue in her cheek. “Course, the board done hired some new, young fella from Marshall as principal, so we might all be in for a shake up this year.”

  Multiple sets of eyes train on me expectantly.

  I hold up my hands. “I was interviewed by the superintendent who passed on my credentials to the board. The principal’s position was still open when I was hired on. I don’t know anything more than you do.”

  The heavy footfall of dress shoes clacks across the wooden planks as a man walks to the center of the stage. His shoulders are squared; his jaw is tense, but his hands hang loosely at his sides. He doesn’t say a word as he takes his time making eye contact with every person in the room. Every person except me.

  We both stick out like sore thumbs among our coworkers. He’s wearing a three-piece suit that looks custom tailored. Not even his predecessor was ever dressed so fine. He’s tall and broad—and in spite of being much younger than most of the teachers—he’s all man. Thick, black hair cut short on the sides but styled on top, clean-shaven, sharp green eyes assessing his employees spread out below him. His bright red tie falls across an undeniably defined chest that seems to strain the fabric of his crisp, white dress shirt.

  He’s the most handsome man I’ve ever laid eyes on.

  I was never supposed to see him again.

  An unfamiliar touch shuts my trap for me, muttering, “Close your mouth, girl. And what’s to gawk at? Don’t ya know all that glitters ain’t gold? Lawdamercy, our school’s done for.”

  I absolutely share her visceral reaction. Only it’s not the school I’m so worried about.

  He speaks in an even, almost daring tone. “As I’m sure y’all remember, I’m Jesse Yates. I’ll be serving as your new principal.”

  Twenty Years Ago

  I run toward the action on the playground as fast as I can, then I shove the little red-haired boy as hard as I can. He falls to the ground in a heap. I’m stronger than I thought.

  “Why don’t ya pick on someone your own size, Clarence?”

  He scrambles backwards like a crab and turns his wide brown eyes up at me. “He–he is my size, Lenore!”

  Even though Clarence Duke is my cousin, he’s such a bully. He’s always picking on the little kids in the churchyard, too. I’ve wanted to teach him a lesson more times than I can count. It ain’t right to mess with little things, and Daddy always says we’re bound to keep the family name proud. I ain’t never thought to mind Clarence’s manners for him, but today seems like a good day for it.

  “Well I’m your size, too, but you’re on the ground, and I’m not. Ya wanna fight me instead?”

  “My momma says you’re a stain on the family, Lenore Wheeler!”

  Big words for a wimp who runs away like a scaredy cat.

  “Ya all right?” I soften my voice and turn to the little boy still sprawled out on the ground where Clarence had put him. His books are scattered all around, and he’s scraping the gravel out of his palms with his dirty fingernails.

  “I don’t need no help from a girl,” he grumbles as he picks himself up.

  He wouldn’t even say a word to me at the bus stop this morning no matter how much Mama and I tried to sweet talk him. I felt bad that my mama was there taking pictures for my first day of kindergarten, but he was there all alone. She posed us together and told us to smile, but he never did. He ain’t smiling now either. Maybe he don’t know how.

  “Ya could say thank you, ya know, Jesse Yates. I coulda just let Clarence pound ya.”

  “I didn’t ask for your help.” He picks himself up and dusts himself off.

  He didn’t ask for my help, but right before I got on the bus, Mama told me to be a good friend to him.

  “He has a harder life than ya could ever imagine, Lenore,” she whispered, so he wouldn’t hear. “He needs a little angel like ya on his shoulder, all right?”

  Together, we pick up his books. “Ya like books, Jesse?”

  “So?”

  “I like books, too. My mama takes me to the library every week, so I can pick out new ones. Ya wanna read together?”

  It’s recess, and all the other kids are playing and horsing around. Not Jesse. When our teacher, Mrs. Baumgartner, led us out to the playground, he went straight away to a bench with his books and had his nose there until Clarence decided to pick on him.

  “No. Leave me alone.” He sits back down on the bench and opens another book.

  “Do ya ever smile?”

  “Ain’t got no reason to.”

  I sit beside him. “I’m gonna find ya a reason. There’s lots to smile about, Jesse Yates.”

  “Why do ya keep callin’ me that?”

  “Well, that’s your name, ain’t it?”

  “Yeah, but I don’t go around callin’ ya Lenore Wheeler all the time, do I?”

  “Well…no.”

  He ignores me for a few minutes, his nose in his book. Mama says
I’m lucky to know how to read ‘cause most of the townsfolk don’t know how. I guess that means Jesse’s lucky, too. We spent all morning in class just going over the alphabet. Heck, I known the alphabet since I was three!

  “Whatcha readin’?”

  He looks at me like I’m stupid and holds the book higher for me to see for myself. Yeah, I guess I could have done that. He’s reading The Giving Tree.

  “My mama taught me to read. Who taught you?”

  “My maw-maw.”

  “Did she give you that book?”

  He nods.

  “I love that book, too.”

  “I don’t love it. It’s okay.”

  “Well, what do ya love?”

  He shrugs.

  I guess I have to try harder to be an angel.

  “Mama says we’re neighbors. Why ain’t I ever seen ya around before?”

  He shrugs again.

  “Ya wanna come play after school? There’s no other kids live out by us. It gets awful lonesome sometimes. I have a treehouse that my daddy built for me. We can play pretend if ya like.”

  No answer.

  “We don’t hafta play pretend if ya don’t want. We can play somethin’ else.”

  “I don’t wanna be playin’ with no girl. My ma says girls are nuthin’ but trouble.”

  “I ain’t trouble, Jesse Yates! I saved ya from Clarence!”

  “I told ya I didn’t need your help, girl. Now, go on. Git.”

  Well, I never! Mama told me to be an angel, but he’s the devil!

  “Lenore and Jesse, sittin’ in a tree. K-I-SS-ING,” Billy Joe Eakins calls out.

  Half the class is crowded around him, staring at me and Jesse. My face heats up, and I curl my hands into fists. If it’s a fight they want, then I’ll give them one.

  “First comes love, second comes marriage,” Bobbi Sue Gentry chimes in.

  “Go away, Lenore,” Jesse whispers. “You’re makin’ it worse.”

  Fine. Hard life or not, he don’t wanna be friends with me anyway.

  Soon as I run to the swings, the picking stops. Might be that Jesse Yates is smarter than he looks.