The Living Room

by Robert Whitlow

  “I like your place,” she said.

  “Thanks.”

  Ryan led Amy down a short hallway.

  “The master suite is downstairs, and there are two bedrooms upstairs. I use one of those for a home office. Upstairs is off-limits for the kids. I’ll keep them corralled down here.”

  He opened the door to a spacious bedroom decorated in dark blues and greens suitable for a man.

  “Would you mind if I used the bathroom?” Amy asked. “I didn’t get a chance to stop at the house when I picked up Megan.”

  “Use mine,” he replied. “The kids are using the half bath down the hall.”

  “That’s not necessary. I—”

  “Mr. Ryan, can you come here?” a female voice interrupted them.

  The teacher turned away and left Amy standing inside his bedroom. She stepped over to the bathroom. It featured a double sink and a Jacuzzi tub. While she was washing her hands, Amy looked at herself in the long mirror. She touched her right cheek just below her eye. A new wrinkle was definitely forming on her face. She sighed. Her mother had more crow’s-feet around her eyes than a dusty corn patch. It didn’t take a nighttime trip to the living room for Amy to know her future face.

  As she dried her hands, Amy glanced down at the items spread out on the long sink. The teacher used the same brand of cologne as Jeff. Amy couldn’t remember the last time Jeff actually applied it to his neck. She sniffed the cologne. Setting it down, she saw a set of shiny cuff links. They were gold with letters engraved on them. Amy picked one up and read “AKL.” At the end of the sink in a small ceramic frame was a photo of the teacher with an older couple who were probably his parents. Mr. Ryan’s father was bald. The passage of time is an unforgiving arbiter. When she left the bedroom, Mr. Ryan was waiting for her in the hallway.

  “Thanks,” Amy said. “I couldn’t help noticing the cuff links on the sink.”

  “Oh, those belonged to my grandfather,” Mr. Ryan replied. “I’ve only used them a couple of times, but I have to go to a formal dinner for the alumni chapter of my college fraternity next weekend and pulled them out.”

  “Where will that be?”

  “Uh, Denver. I went to the University of Colorado.”

  “I thought the campus was in Boulder.”

  “That’s the main campus. There’s a branch in Denver.”

  The noise in the townhome had gone up a few decibels as more young people arrived. A girl Amy didn’t recognize looked up.

  “Are you Mr. Ryan’s girlfriend?” the girl asked, her eyes wide open.

  Amy felt herself blush. “No, I’m Megan Clarke’s mother.”

  “Megan Clarke?” the girl asked.

  “She’s a ninth grader,” another girl said, then faced Amy. “I can tell you’re her mom. You look just alike.”

  “And don’t worry about my social life, Lindsey,” Mr. Ryan said to the first student. “You have enough to keep up with yourself.”

  “Promise you’ll tell us when you get a girlfriend?” Lindsey persisted. “We want to know who your type is.”

  Mr. Ryan shook his head and turned to Amy.

  “Kids have an overly romanticized view of the life of a single teacher.”

  “I know. Thanks for showing me around.”

  “You’re welcome,” the teacher said. “I hope to see you in the morning when I pick up Megan for dance class.”

  “She’s excited that you’re coming to watch.”

  The teacher moved away and began talking to another cluster of students. Amy left. While driving home, she decided to ask Jeff if they could enlist Mr. Ryan’s help in trying to determine if Megan was being influenced by the wrong kind of crowd at school. The group of young people assembled at the teacher’s townhome seemed nice enough, but Amy wasn’t naive. Deeds of darkness could come in packages that gave no hint of what lay inside.

  Jeff was waiting for her in the kitchen.

  “I apologize,” he said as soon as he saw her. “I meant to come home early so I could take Megan to Mr. Ryan’s house.”

  “She was extremely rude to me about it. I didn’t remember her telling me.”

  “I don’t think you were in the kitchen when she brought it up earlier in the week.”

  “That’s okay, I’m glad I went. Mr. Ryan invited me in to see his townhome, and we talked for a few minutes. One of the girls there thought I was his girlfriend.”

  “Girlfriend?”

  “Yes, which made me feel better because I found a new wrinkle under my right eye a few minutes earlier. Anyway, I think we should ask Mr. Ryan if he suspects Megan might be mixed up with students who are using drugs. He seems connected to what’s going on with the kids.”

  “If he suspected something like that, don’t you think he’d tell us?”

  “I’d hope so,” Amy said. “But maybe he’s not tuned in to the issue. You wouldn’t believe how the kids are pulling on him. He’s like a rock star.”

  “Do you think he’s handsome?”

  Amy stared at Jeff for a moment. Her first reaction was to burst out laughing. She managed to stop herself.

  “No, and it was silly for a student to suggest he and I might be a couple. Mr. Ryan is not my type; you are. That story has been written, and nobody is going to change it.”

  “I like it when you talk to me like that.”

  “Then I should do it more often.” Amy paused. “What about me?”

  “I think you’re more beautiful than the day we got married.”

  “And the wrinkles don’t bother you?”

  Jeff leaned in close to her face and squinted. “I love you so much I have trouble seeing any imperfections.”

  Amy laughed. “Now we’re both getting away from fact and into fiction.”

  Amy fixed one of Ian’s favorite suppers—hot dogs topped with chili, cheese, chopped onions, and mustard. She warmed the buns by wrapping them in a damp cloth and steaming them for a few seconds in the microwave. Jeff liked an old-fashioned hot dog, too, and father and son could eat a platterful.

  “You’re the best cook,” Ian said to Amy as he finished his second hot dog and reached for a third with his nonbroken arm. “Bobby’s mom doesn’t know how to do it like you do.”

  “I agree,” Jeff added with a twinkle in his eye. “These hot dogs are gourmet.”

  After Ian was in bed, Amy didn’t go up to the writing room. Instead, she and Jeff sat beside each other on the sofa and watched a movie.

  “I’ll pick up Megan,” Jeff said when the movie was over.

  “But I already know where Mr. Ryan lives.”

  “My face is the only male face I want you to see this evening,” Jeff replied. “Besides, if we’re going to ask Ryan to spy on Megan for us, I should be the one to do it.”

  “It’s not spying,” Amy replied. “It’s—”

  “Spying,” Jeff cut in. “But that doesn’t mean it’s bad or we shouldn’t ask. Nine months out of the year Megan spends more time at school than she does anywhere else. My question is whether I’ll be able to grab a moment with him while his place is filled with kids.”

  “I asked to use the bathroom.”

  “That might work for a woman, but I’ll have to figure something else out.”

  Amy glanced at the clock. “Don’t leave for another ten minutes. Megan threatened to stay in the house and not come out if we got there early.”

  “Then I’m leaving now. That will give me an excuse to crash the party and talk to the teacher.”

  Amy began to get anxious as the time passed when she expected Jeff and Megan to return. The door to the garage didn’t open until 11:30 p.m., and they came through the kitchen into the family room.

  “Did you have a good time?” Amy asked Megan.

  “Yeah, it was a blast. All the kids want to do it again soon.” Megan looked at Jeff. “Mr. Ryan thinks you and Dad are cool, but that doesn’t mean he needs extra chaperones. If he has a bigger party, he’s going to ask Ms. Garrison, the P.E. teacher, to co
me.”

  “I helped carry out the trash,” Jeff said. “Taking a black plastic bag filled with half-eaten pizza to the Dumpster is a skill most teenage boys haven’t learned yet.”

  “You spent most of your time there talking to Mr. Ryan,” Megan said. “What were you talking about?”

  “There could only be one topic of conversation,” Jeff replied. “I was asking Mr. Ryan to spy on you for us.”

  “Quit it.” Megan rolled her eyes. “Anyway, thanks for letting me go. The party was breaking up at eleven, so I didn’t really miss much. Oh, and Dad said it was okay, so Mr. Ryan is going to be here at nine in the morning to take me to dance class. He has to pick up Molly first.”

  Megan went upstairs. Amy and Jeff watched her go and remained quiet until they heard her door click shut.

  “That was a risky move,” Amy whispered. “She thought you were joking about asking Mr. Ryan to spy on her.”

  “Did you expect me to lie?”

  “You know what I mean. What did he say?”

  “He was surprised and concerned. Offhand, he didn’t know anyone in her circle who’s going downhill except Crystal.”

  “Megan saw that last fall during football season.”

  “And Ryan says they don’t hang around each other much anymore. He mentioned that even though he’s had casual contact with a lot of students, he doesn’t know many of them very well. This party was a chance to be around them with their hair down a little bit.”

  “What was Megan doing when you got there?”

  “Huddled in a corner with the other ninth-grade girls watching the older kids. It’s tough for the various age groups to mingle. There’s so much difference between them.”

  “That’s what I told Megan. She came back at me with a line about girls maturing faster than boys.”

  “That’s true enough. I’m still trying to catch up to you.”

  “Consider me caught.” Amy yawned. “We’d better get some sleep. We have a busy day tomorrow.”

  “Are you still going to try to see Natalie?”

  “Yes, for a late lunch. But I don’t want to shirk my duty at the Connors’ house.”

  “We’ll both drive. That way you can leave when you want, and I’ll stay to make sure everything gets done.”

  “That would be nice,” Amy said gratefully. “Since I went back to work, it’s hard to see Natalie, and I don’t want to cut into our family time on the weekends.”

  “There’s not going to be much family time this weekend.”

  “What’s Ian going to do tomorrow while we’re not here?” Amy asked suddenly. “I feel like a terrible mother for not planning ahead.”

  “He’s going to Bobby’s house. I called Jack this afternoon. He’s going to take the boys out in the woods and show them a tree stand he’s set up for deer season later this year.”

  “This isn’t going to involve a four-wheeler, is it?”

  “No. They’ll ride in Jack’s truck, and I told him Ian can’t climb the stand with one arm. There’s also a little stream nearby where the boys can mess around for a while. It’s just a chance to be in the woods before it gets warm and the bugs come out.”

  As she lay in bed, Amy spent a few anxious moments thinking about Dr. Claude Ramsey. She wasn’t sure what could go wrong, but that didn’t relieve the stress she felt. She offered up a quick prayer for either additional information or guidance in how to bring up the subject with Mr. Phillips. Nothing percolated up from her spirit. She fell asleep and slept through the night.

  The following morning was more like a school day than a leisurely Saturday. Knowing he was going to be doing some strenuous physical activity, Jeff cooked a full breakfast, and the entire family gathered around the table.

  “Remember, you’re not going to be climbing any trees today,” Amy said to Ian.

  “She means you’re not going to climb the tree stand,” Jeff corrected. “Obey Bobby’s dad.”

  “But he’s going to let Bobby—”

  “That’s exactly the attitude I’m talking about,” Jeff interrupted. “If you can’t go along with the program, you can come with your mom and me to pack up the Connors’ stuff. I’m sure there are some things a one-armed boy can put in boxes.”

  “Yes, sir,” Ian said.

  “Good. Mr. Pickens knows a ton of stuff about the woods. You’ll learn a lot and have fun doing it. He’s going to bring you home in time for supper.”

  “Bobby invited me to spend the night.”

  “All day is enough,” Jeff said.

  While Jeff talked with Ian, Amy nibbled a piece of wheat toast. It was nice when Jeff took over the parenting duties. Of course, managing Ian was a lot easier than managing the young woman who was eating her fourth piece of bacon.

  “What am I supposed to do for lunch?” Megan asked.

  “There are all kinds of sandwich fixings in the fridge,” Amy replied.

  “What if Mr. Ryan wants to buy my lunch?”

  “That would be fine with me,” Amy said, glancing at Jeff. “It would give you time to talk.”

  Amy could see Megan’s mouth drop open.

  “Sure,” Jeff said. “But come straight home after you eat. I checked your room after you came downstairs, and you’ve got plenty of work to do cleaning and straightening up. I expect it to look decent by the time I get home this afternoon.”

  “Don’t suggest that he buy your lunch,” Amy added. “Let him bring it up.”

  Jeff reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet.

  “Actually, it wouldn’t be right for him to pay for your meal. He’s trying to live on a teacher’s salary. Here’s twenty dollars. That should pay for both of you if you eat at a fast-food place.”

  Megan stared at the twenty-dollar bill.

  “Let me have twenty dollars so Bobby and I can buy something,” Ian said. “I know he’d like to go to the ice-cream place after we’ve been in the woods.”

  “Nice try, but no,” Jeff responded.

  Megan finished breakfast in silence. Amy couldn’t help smiling to herself at Megan’s bewilderment with the puzzling turn of events.

  “Do you want me to save you a cup of coffee in a travel mug?” Amy asked her. “You didn’t have any with your breakfast.”

  “Uh, no, thanks. All I wanted was orange juice.”

  Shortly after Bobby and his father picked up Ian, Mr. Ryan came to get Megan. Amy opened the front door. She could see Molly Prichard sitting in the passenger seat of the car.

  “Good morning,” the teacher said. “Is Megan ready?”

  “She should be down in a second. Would you like to come in?”

  The front-door entrance opened directly into the family room. They stepped inside, and Amy looked up the stairs.

  “Megan! Mr. Ryan is here!”

  “Just a second!” Megan replied.

  “Busy Saturday?” Mr. Ryan asked.

  “Yes, Jeff and I are helping a family in our Sunday school class pack up for a move to Oklahoma, and then I’m going to spend some time with a close friend who’s writing a children’s book.”

  “There is lot of creative talent in this town. Are you working on a new book yourself?”

  “Yes, it’s in the beginning stages.”

  “That must be a challenge. Holding down a full-time job and writing.”

  “And trying to be a good mom.” Amy lowered her voice. “Jeff and I appreciate you helping us keep an eye on Megan. She’s smart and strong-willed, but it’s not paired up with wisdom yet. We want to make sure she doesn’t make bad choices.”

  “Sure. But getting kids to let down their guard and talk isn’t always easy. There’s a lot of listening required first.”

  “I know, and I don’t want to steal your time. You’re already giving so much of yourself to your students. But if you’d like to take Megan to get a burger after dance practice, Jeff gave her money for lunch. Of course, if Molly is going along, that might not work.”

  “I’ll play i
t by ear.”

  Megan came rapidly down the stairs. Her dance clothes were in a canvas tote with the studio logo on its side.

  “Hey, Mr. Ryan. Bye, Mom,” she said, then darted past her out of the house.

  Mr. Ryan lingered for a moment. “If dance doesn’t work out, Megan could probably be a track star.”

  Amy watched as Megan got in the backseat of the car.

  When Amy and Jeff arrived at the Connor house, it looked like a cross between a haphazard garage sale and an episode from a TV show about a hoarder. Fortunately, a lot of people had shown up, and Tammy’s best friend efficiently assigned people to specific tasks. While Jeff worked in the garage, Amy went to a child’s bedroom.

  Darla Connor was six years old and similar to her mother. A small child’s opinion about what’s valuable isn’t logical, so Amy didn’t try to separate junk from treasures. She treated everything except obvious trash as a keepsake, divided the items by type, placed them in boxes, taped them shut, and wrote a detailed description on top. Amy especially enjoyed folding the little-girl clothes. The years when she’d been able to treat Megan as a doll had been a lot of fun. Amy was getting close to finishing the room when Tammy and Darla came in.

  “Darla can’t find her bunny,” Tammy said. “I know she had him this morning because she always sleeps with him. Normally, she leaves him alone during the day except at nap time, but all this activity is making her feel insecure.”

  Darla had a sad expression on her face. Amy, who was on her knees sorting through shoes, stood up.

  “I know exactly where he is.”

  She went over to a stack of boxes in the corner of the room and found the third box down. On the top, she’d written Darla’s stuffed animals. Tearing off the tape, she opened the box and took out a well-worn grayish rabbit with long, floppy ears. As soon as she saw the rabbit, Darla’s eyes lit up. Amy handed the bunny to her.

  “Hold him for a few minutes, and then we’re going to put him in the car so he doesn’t get lost during the long drive,” Tammy said to the little girl.

  Darla ran out of the room.

  “Thanks, Amy, you’re a lifesaver. We lost Bunny last week. It was a rough couple of days until we found him hiding behind the potato chips in the pantry.”

  “Darla is cute,” Amy replied. “I look forward to keeping up with her through your photos online.”