by Kate Hewitt
Congregating? That was another word I did not know, but again I knew it couldn’t be good. “And for this she is suspended?”
“Yes, Ms. Dzino, she is. We have high expectations of our young women at Walkerton. Very high expectations. Now, the staff here are aware, of course, of Alexa’s family situation, and we are very, very sorry for it.” Her face tightened. “You might recall our PTA organised a schedule of meals to be delivered to the West family.” I did not see how that had any relevance, and so I remained silent. “But no matter what her family’s situation,” Miss Faber continued after another tense pause, “her behavior cannot and will not be tolerated at this school.” She turned to Alexa, who was staring at the wall. “I hope, Alexa, that a week at home will give you time to think about your actions. I am very sorry for your loss, my dear. But acting out in this way isn’t helpful to you or your peers.”
Alexa, of course, did not respond.
Miss Faber turned back to me. “Do you have any other questions?”
I shook my head. I did not know enough to ask questions. If Nathan were here, perhaps he would protest, demand Miss Faber reconsider. As it was, all I could do was murmur thanks—for what, I did not know—and slink out of the office with Alexa behind me.
Outside, I gazed up at the bright blue sky, felt the hint of warmth in the air that had seemed so promising earlier. I turned to Alexa.
“I suppose we should go home.” She shrugged. “Do you want to tell me what happened?” No reply. “We’ll talk when we get home,” I decided, although I did not know what either of us would say, or if Alexa would say anything at all.
I could not keep from feeling disappointed, and rather stupidly hurt. I had thought Alexa had been coming along these last few weeks. Warming up to me, to everyone. I had thought we were moving forward, and shamefully, I had thought it had been, at least a little, up to me. But now all of it seemed like a lie, a mirage. False hope, which was worse than no hope at all.
* * *
Back at the apartment, Alexa headed towards her room. “Wait.” I barked out the word, although I hadn’t meant to. “Alexa, we should talk.”
She let out a long, drawn-out sigh and turned around. “What about?”
“This… suspended.”
“Suspension.” The sneer in her voice made me blink.
“Suspension,” I repeated. My English had never failed me so noticeably before. “You were not in school? You were smoking?”
She put her hands on her hips, her chin tilted at a defiant angle. “Yeah, so what?”
“And… with boys?”
“I was hanging out with boys, yeah.” She rolled her eyes. “Miss Faber can’t even say it. Congregating.” She snickered, a sound I found I hated.
“What does it mean? Congregating?” I asked.
“I was hooking up with them, Maria,” Alexa drawled. “Obviously.”
This too was a term I was not familiar with, but I could imagine. I pressed one hand to my throat, trying to stay calm even though all sorts of feelings were jolting through me, current after awful current. “With more than one boy?” I asked faintly.
“With three.” She smirked. “Now does that shock you, Saint Maria? The woman who never does anything wrong?”
“I do many things wrong, Alexa. So many things. But why would you do this? Why would you…” My throat was tight, and spots danced before my eyes. “Why would you lower yourself so much?”
“I wasn’t lowering myself.” She snorted. “What, are you just jealous? You probably wish you could get off with my dad, don’t you? Get off with anyone, even? Do you have a life, or are you just like some sort of parasite on ours? Have you ever even had sex?”
I had walked the two steps towards her before I knew what I was doing. My hand was in the air, moving towards her face before I could even think to stop myself, though distantly I knew I should. Of course I should. Crack.
We stared at each other, Alexa and I, the terrible, vivid red print of my hand on her cheek. She looked too shocked to cry, or say anything, or move. I stared at her in horror. I could not believe myself. I could not believe I had been capable of such an act of violence.
“Alexa… I…” I stared at her helplessly, appalled by my actions, shocked by the sudden rage I had not realized I possessed that had gripped me when I thought of the things she had said and done.
For a second I had been completely consumed by it, so I could almost imagine it coming out of me in lightning bolts from my fingers and toes, my eyes and mouth. I thought if someone touched me they would burst into flames, or I would. It had led me to slap her, but now, looking at the mark of my hand on Alexa’s cheek, I did not feel angry, I felt shame—as well as sorrow and fear. How could I have done such a thing?
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, but Alexa just stared at me for an awful, frozen moment, and then, without a word, she wheeled around and ran into her bedroom, slamming the door so hard behind her, the whole apartment rattled.
I stood there, dazed and horrified, unsure what I should do. Was there any way to make this better? Should I apologise again? Explain, even, about how her words had touched memories and emotions inside me I could not bear to recall or feel? I did nothing; I felt too shaken to move. To act.
After some time, I didn’t know how long, my phone pinged. A text from Nathan.
I’m so sorry. I was in a meeting with my phone switched off. Are you at school?
For a second my rage swelled again, big enough for him, as well. Why had he switched his phone off? Why had it all been up to me?
With shaking fingers, I texted him back. We are back at home.
Should I come?
He needed to ask me? He needed my permission? When was he going to decide for himself what kind of father he would be, what kind of man?
I did not answer that text. I could not, because I was still angry, and I was also afraid. What would happen when Alexa told Nathan what I had done? How could I make this better?
I realized I needed to get Ruby; I left a note for Alexa that I doubted she would read, and then I hurried towards The Garden School, everything in me still reeling from what had happened.
My mind was a blur as I fetched Ruby, who started happily babbling away as soon as she saw me, blissful in her innocence. The mothers and other nannies still didn’t really talk to me, although they might murmur hello. Today, they just looked away. Perhaps they sensed my disquiet; perhaps they saw it in my face.
“Can we go to the park, Maria?” Ruby asked as she skipped next to me, yanking on my hand. “Please? It’s so warm. They might even have the sprinklers on.”
“Ruby, it is February, they will not have the sprinklers on.” The plans I’d had for a picnic seemed ridiculous now. I removed my hand from hers to keep her from yanking on it.
“Please?”
My head was starting to clear, and also to pound. I felt sick to my stomach, nausea swirling around, threatening to rise. What could I do? How could I make this better?
“Maria?” Ruby asked hopefully.
I put one hand to my head, dazed, the world seeming to spin around me. “Yes,” I said finally. I dreaded returning to the apartment, to Alexa. “Yes, we will go to the park.”
I sat on a bench in the chilly sunshine as Ruby raced through the concrete pyramids of the Ancient Playground, next to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. I listened to the calls and squeals of the children in the park, sitting a little bit apart from a bevy of nannies who were chatting at a picnic table. I wondered where they came from, what their stories were. What had brought them to this country? What had they seen and had to forget? I had no idea, just as they had no idea about me. No one did.
Eventually I forced myself to think about the present, which was pushing into my brain like someone forcing open the doors of an elevator and squeezing inside. No room, no room. But they came anyway, because they were so important.
I would be fired. This was the thought that squeezed in first and took up all the air
in that cramped little space. I would be fired, because I had slapped Alexa. I had slapped her face. How could I have done such a thing? Even now I could hear the crack of my hand against her cheek, like a gunshot.
A gunshot.
I closed my eyes. I was so filled with regret, it felt like a swamp inside me, miring me in its murky, muddy depths. And yet, even so, I still had the rage. My hand tingled. I did not know how to feel.
“Maria, why are you closing your eyes?”
Like the petals of a flower, Ruby’s little hands cupped my face. I opened my eyes and smiled down at her sweetness, even though my lips trembled.
“I am just tired, koka. That is all.”
She studied me for a few seconds, a crinkle in the middle of her forehead, and then she leaned forward and kissed me on my cheek. “I love you, Maria,” she said, before skipping away.
I bowed my head, humbled by her words, by the sweet simplicity of it, wishing it was all that easy and pure. But of course it wasn’t.
I would be fired. Perhaps I would even be arrested. Had I committed a crime? Maybe Nathan was home already, and Alexa was telling him what had happened, showing him her reddened cheek. Would there be a bruise? I cringed inwardly at the thought, horrified and appalled all over again. How had it come to this? How had I let it?
We stayed in the playground until it was time to pick Ella up, and then we walked hand in hand back to Walkerton, although I dreaded that place now. Ruby was tired from playing, and so she was quiet as we walked, her head pressed against my hip.
Ella came out smiling; she’d had a good day, and the teacher quietly told me she’d eaten two-thirds of her lunch. Progress, even if she still looked too thin and she still talked about racing. Today she was happy, and she held my other hand as we headed towards home.
Home. Would it still be my home? I had not even realized I’d let myself think of it that way.
Inside the apartment, all was quiet. I saw Nathan’s messenger bag in the hall, and I wondered why he was not waiting, his face filled with fury as he demanded to know how I could have raised a hand to his child.
Ella and Ruby ran into the living room, squealing when they saw him.
“Daddy, you’re home so early!”
“Will you play with me, Daddy?”
“Can I have a snack?”
Wearily, I brought their school bags into the kitchen, checking for any letters or forms that had been sent home. There was nothing. Mindlessly, I started cutting up fruit for their snack, waiting for Nathan.
“Thank you, Maria.”
I stiffened at the sound of his voice, turning in shock to see him smiling tiredly in the doorway of the kitchen.
“Alexa isn’t talking to me, surprise, surprise.” He shook his head. “I thought we were past this. Stupid me, I suppose. Two steps forward, one step back. Or is it the other way around?”
“You’ve talked to her?” I asked cautiously.
“Yes, briefly. She wouldn’t say much, just that she’s been suspended for skipping school.” And smoking, and the boys. I stayed silent. “A whole week… that’s not going to look good on the transcript.”
I thought that should be the least of his concerns now, but I did not say so. I was realizing that Alexa had not told him I’d slapped her. Was she waiting? Or was she ashamed?
My mind whirling, I brought the bowls of fruit to Ella and Ruby in the living room; they were watching their precious hour of TV, already absorbed in the luridly colored cartoon on the screen in front of them.
Back in the kitchen, Nathan leaned against the counter.
“Do you mind having her at home for the week?” he asked.
I shook my head. “No. It is fine.” How could I say anything else?
“I’m wondering if she needs more counselling. Someone else to talk to, the way Ella has… How did she do today, by the way? Did she eat her lunch?”
“Most of it, I think.”
“I’m not sure I want her to race next weekend.” He sighed, raking a hand through his hair. “What do you think?”
I shook my head helplessly. “I do not know.”
Nathan must have sensed my disquiet for he leaned forward, craning his head to look at me. “Maria, is everything all right?”
I hesitated, because part of me—oh, such a large part—wanted to say yes, Of course, everything was absolutely all right. Alexa wouldn’t tell, and life could go on as it had been, these last few weeks so simple and pleasant, on and on.
But I knew I could not do that. These weeks had been neither simple nor pleasant; they had just seemed so, ever so briefly. I could not go forward with this lie so heavy inside me, weighing me down with its guilt.
“No,” I said to Nathan. “Everything is not all right.”
Nathan frowned, straightening where he stood. “What’s wrong, Maria? What’s going on?”
I took a deep breath and I looked him full in the face. “I have done something wrong,” I said. “Something I must tell you about.”
Twenty-Three
Nathan
Maria was looking at me so seriously, I had that strange, buzzing sensation of being outside my body, looking in. The same sensation I’d had when the policewoman had come to my office. But surely whatever she said couldn’t be as bad as that. Nothing could.
“What happened?” I asked her. “What do you need to tell me?”
She glanced behind her, at the girls. “Perhaps I should tell you later,” she murmured. “When everyone is in bed. It is not something I wish to speak of in front of the little ones.”
So it was serious, then. My heart felt as if it were clenching in my chest even as I told myself I had to be overreacting. “Okay,” I said.
The next few hours felt endless. I helped with homework while Maria made dinner; Alexa came to the table when called, and stayed silent all the while, looking at no one and eating nothing. I gave Ruby a bath while Maria folded laundry; I read to Ella while she tucked Ruby in. We’d become adept, her and I, at sharing the load, moving quietly around each other.
Finally, a little after nine, having wrestled Alexa’s phone off her and with the little girls in bed, I confronted Maria. She looked so resigned, I had the urge to comfort her. I had no idea what she intended to say to me.
“I am very sorry, Nathan,” she began, perched on the edge of the sofa, her hands clasped tightly on her lap. “I am so very sorry.”
She was starting to scare me now. “Maria, please tell me what’s happened.”
“I was angry with Alexa,” she said. “We argued after she came home. I was so angry…” She shook her head, biting her lips, and I stared at her in bemused confusion.
“I’ve been angry with Alexa,” I ventured. “Plenty of times.”
“This was different.” Maria kept biting her lip, leaving a deep indent in it, as she shook her head.
“So what happened?” I asked eventually.
“I slapped her. Across the face.” Maria looked up at me, her eyes filled with both fear and resignation.
“You slapped her…” I spoke dazedly, because I could not picture it. Maria was so gentle. She never even raised her voice. “You slapped her,” I said again, seeking confirmation, and she nodded.
“I’m so very sorry. I didn’t mean to. It just…” She shook her head helplessly. “I’m sorry,” she said again.
“Maria…” I hesitated, because I wasn’t sure what to say, what tone to take. She’d slapped my daughter. I couldn’t make sense of it. And what was I supposed to do now? Fire her? I knew I didn’t want to, slap or not, and yet… she’d been violent to my child. “I have trouble imagining you doing something like that,” I said at last. “You never even lose your temper.”
“I did then,” she said, her head bowed. “I’m so sorry.”
“Alexa didn’t even mention it.” Which begged the question why not. “Why did she make you so angry, Maria?” I still had trouble picturing it. Alexa had tested both of our patience many times. What about t
his time had made Maria break?
“It does not matter.”
“I think it does.” I had a growing conviction that there was more going on here than I realized. “You don’t get usually get angry. What happened?”
Maria’s gaze skittered back to mine; she looked frightened. “She said some things…”
“What things?”
Another shake of her head, and I felt myself growing both impatient and anxious. What could she be possibly hiding?
“Maria. Please tell me what’s going on. What did Alexa say?”
“It is not my place. You should ask her…”
“As if she’d tell me, and I’m asking you, the person I’ve hired to care for her, who was in the wrong.” I was sounding strident now, and I could see Maria shrinking into herself. How had we got here? “Please, Maria.”
“She skipped school to smoke,” she finally said in a small, squeezed-out voice. “And to… be… with boys.”
Be with boys? Words to freeze a father’s heart, and yet I didn’t want to believe it. “What do you mean, be with boys?”
Maria shook her head. “Please, ask her.”
“Trust me, I will.” I was getting angry now, angry and afraid, just like Maria. Then realization trickled in. “But why did this make you so angry?” I asked. She’d taken plenty of back talk and bad behavior from Alexa before; we both had. Why had she been angry enough to slap her? I still could not picture Maria raising her hand and hitting someone. My daughter.
“Please,” Maria said.
I didn’t know what she was asking for, but I wasn’t going to give it to her.
“Tell me. Considering what happened, I have a right to know.”
Maria closed her eyes briefly, the way I used to. When she spoke, her voice was so low, I strained to hear it. “Because… because she made me remember.”
“Remember?” I was nonplussed. “Remember what?”
Maria just shook her head. Again.
“Maria, what did she make you remember?”
“Please,” she whispered, her eyes still closed.
