Disturbed

by Kevin O'Brien

  But he started to backslide in late November. His mother had suddenly fallen in love with Larry Keegan, a Bellevue divorced dad. She didn’t waste much time moving in with him. So Chris had a potential stepdad and teenage stepsister, and obviously, he wasn’t crazy about either one of them. Making matters worse, he and Courtney had broken up.

  It seemed to come to a head one night the week after Thanksgiving, when Jeff was out of town. Molly had been holding dinner for Chris, who still hadn’t come home from school. He hadn’t answered his cell phone, either. She finally fed Erin at eight-fifteen. Chris crept in at a quarter to nine, while she and Erin were washing the dishes. Erin wanted him to guess what she drew in art class. Molly asked where he’d been and why he hadn’t called.

  “Could you both just leave me alone?” he muttered, retreating upstairs to his room.

  After tucking Erin in bed, Molly went to his door and gently knocked. “Chris, can I come in?”

  “I don’t feel like company, okay?” he replied from the other side of the door.

  “Well, I didn’t feel like worrying about you for the last four hours, but I did,” she replied. “You owe me an explanation. I’m coming in.” She opened the door and found him on top of the bed with his hands clasped behind his head, staring up at the ceiling.

  “I know you’re having a tough time lately,” she said, standing in the doorway with her arms folded. “What happened today? Why didn’t you call? You were very curt with Erin when you came in. That’s not like you. Her feelings were hurt.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said, rolling over on his side. His back was to her.

  “Did something happen with Courtney?”

  “No. It’s got nothing to do with her,” he murmured.

  “But something happened,” she said.

  His voice was strained when he finally answered. “I–I can’t talk to you about it, Molly.”

  She sat on the edge of his desk. “Well, if this is as serious as it sounds, maybe you should talk to your dad.”

  “He’s too busy,” Chris grunted.

  “He’s never too busy for you, Chris. You know that. You should call him.”

  “It’s almost midnight in D.C. He’s probably asleep. It is D.C. where he’s at this week, right?”

  Molly didn’t respond right away. He sounded so bitter. “Well, it’s not too late to call your mother.”

  “She can’t be bothered right now. She’s in love.”

  “What about Mr. Corson? Do you have his number? You trust him.”

  “Not anymore,” he muttered.

  “Why? Did something happen with Mr. Corson?” Molly remembered what Jeff had said a while back: “I’m not sure I like Chris going on these late afternoon runs with this guy — just the two of them. It’s just weird.”

  She walked around the bed so she was facing him. “Chris, did something happen with Mr. Corson?”

  He rubbed his eyes. “Damn it, you’d think I’d learn. People always let you down. What a disappointment — first, my mom and dad, and then Courtney, and now, Mr. C. . ”

  Molly sat on the edge of his bed. “Chris, what did Mr. Corson do to you?”

  With a sigh, Chris half sat up. He pushed his pillow up against the headboard and leaned back on it. “He didn’t do anything to me. It’s just. . I needed to talk with him. I’ve missed him on the track the last couple of days — and I’ve had a lot of stuff on my mind.”

  Molly nodded. “I know you have.”

  He picked at a loose thread on his bedspread. “I’m not sure whether or not I told you about Ian Scholl.”

  “Isn’t he the boy everyone picks on?” Molly asked. “He snapped at you when you tried to help him pick up his books. . ”

  Chris nodded. “Mr. Corson asked me to be nice to him — and be his pal. I wasn’t so gung ho about the idea. I mean, I tried to be nice to him before, and look how he reacted.” Chris shifted on the bed, and the springs squeaked. “Anyway, I went looking for Mr. Corson this afternoon. It was kind of late, and he wasn’t at the track. He sometimes takes a shower in the varsity locker room after his run. So I went looking for him in there. At first, I thought the place was empty. But then I heard this strange, moaning sound a few locker rows down from where I was. I went to check it out and. .” Frowning, he took a deep breath. “Well, Mr. Corson was standing there hugging Ian Scholl. No one else was in the place. Mr. Corson had his shirt off, and it wasn’t buddybuddy hugging, y’know? I mean, it looked like he was kissing the top of Ian’s head. . ”

  “Go on,” Molly said somberly.

  He shrugged. “Ian suddenly saw me, and he just freaked. He practically knocked me down running out of there. I couldn’t believe it. I just stared at Mr. Corson, and I think he started to say something. But I didn’t stick around. I bolted. I heard Mr. Corson call to me, but I just kept running. A few minutes later, he phoned my cell twice, but I didn’t pick up. I finally switched it off.” Chris shook his head. “It really disgusted me, and I’m not sure why. I don’t think I’m homophobic or anything like that. I just—”

  “What if you found him with a female student, doing the exact same thing? How would you have felt?”

  He sighed. “Just as disgusted, I guess. I didn’t think of Mr. Corson as the type of guy who would make a move on a student — any student.”

  Molly patted his leg. “You’re not homophobic, Chris. You’re just very disappointed in Mr. Corson. So am I — if that hug is what you say it was. Are you sure it was sexual? I mean, don’t guys sometimes hug in the locker room after a game?”

  “Not when one of them is half naked, and no one else is around — and there’s no game,” he muttered. “It looked pretty sexual. So now, I’m wondering why he wanted me to be friends with that creepy Ian, and why he’s been so nice to me. I think back to all the times we were alone, and — shit.” Chris shook his head. “How come I feel so pissed off and disgusted about this? I mean, why should I care if they want to get it on?”

  “Because you looked up to Mr. Corson, you trusted him,” Molly said. “And then you found him doing this — this wildly inappropriate thing. Ian’s a student — and a minor. It’s not just inappropriate, it’s against the law. What Mr. Corson was doing was wrong.”

  Chris turned away and rubbed his eyes.

  “You said he tried to call you?” Molly asked quietly. “Did he leave a message?”

  Chris frowned. “No, I checked. I was hoping he could explain. . ”

  Biting her lip, Molly realized she was out of her element here. This was a matter Jeff needed to handle. The new stepmom had no business trying to resolve it.

  So she heated up leftovers from that night’s ham-and-mac dinner for him. Though Chris had claimed he wasn’t hungry, he wolfed it down — alone in his room. Molly retreated downstairs to the kitchen and phoned Jeff at the Hilton in Washington, D.C. Jeff had been sleeping. He sounded groggy at first, but after Molly explained why she was calling, he became wide awake — and angry.

  “I knew that guy was bad news!” he declared. “What have I been telling you? There’s something basically wrong with a teacher spending so much time alone after school with a student. Damn it, I should have nipped this in the bud months ago. Jesus, it’s a good thing I’m not there right now. I’d kick the crap out of that SOB.”

  “Well, then I’m glad you’re not here,” she said. “Jeff, we can’t be one hundred percent positive about what Chris saw. We should at least listen to what Mr. Corson has to say, maybe get him together with Chris—”

  “What? Are you nuts? He’s not getting near Chris again. Listen, listen — put Chris on, honey. I need to talk with him, make sure he’s okay. . ”

  She let Chris talk to his father in private for a few minutes. When Molly got back on the line, Jeff explained that Chris had agreed to tell his story to the school principal in the morning. Could she set up the appointment? Could she go with him to see the principal?

  They met with the principal during lunch hour the next da
y. Molly’s heart ached for Chris, who sat across from her in Principal Carney’s office. His foot shook nervously, and he kept glancing down at the ugly gray carpeted floor — unable to look anyone in the eye. Molly’s chair was hard and uncomfortable, and she figured his was, too. They were probably that way on purpose for students being disciplined in there.

  Carney was a large, fiftysomething black woman who looked like she didn’t smile much. Behind her desk was a blown-up photo of the Seattle skyline and several framed certificates. She listened solemnly as Chris recounted what he’d seen in the varsity locker room the previous evening.

  When he was finished, the principal cleared her throat, reached for her phone, and pressed three numbers. “Shannon, have Ray Corson come to my office. . Yes, right away. .”

  Chris seemed to go pale. He shot Molly a panicked look.

  She reached over and put her hand on his arm. “Chris and I aren’t comfortable with this,” she said to the principal. “I thought we’d be talking with just you, Principal Carney. We weren’t expecting a face-to-face with Mr. Corson.”

  The principal gave her a dubious sidelong glance. “Well, if Mr. Corson has an explanation, you want to hear it from him, don’t you?”

  Molly just sighed and said nothing. She noticed Chris’s foot started to shake so bad it looked like a spasm.

  Principal Carney began typing on her computer keyboard. Molly wasn’t sure if she was writing up a summary of what Chris had just told her or if she was answering e-mails. The principal didn’t explain. No one said anything. Molly listened to the click-click-click of those fingernails on the keyboard for about five excruciating minutes.

  At last, she spotted Ray Corson through the window in the office door. At least, she was pretty sure he was Ray Corson. He reminded her a bit of Jeff, only not quite as handsome — and a few years younger. Still, he was pleasant looking. He wore a blue striped shirt, jeans, and a loosened tie. He knocked on the office door and then opened it.

  Chris slinked down in his chair.

  When Corson saw him, a sad half smile came to his face. “Hi, Chris,” he said. Then he approached Molly with his hand out for her to shake. “Mrs. Dennehy?”

  She hesitated. All she could think about was Jeff, going ballistic because she actually shook the guy’s hand. “Molly,” she said finally. She didn’t want to be mistaken for Angela. She went ahead and shook his hand.

  “Have a seat.” Principal Carney nodded at a single chair against the wall. He sat down in it. The principal folded her hands on her desktop. “Mr. Corson, Chris happened to see you in the locker room last night with a student, and he was concerned that something inappropriate might have happened there. Maybe you can clarify for us exactly what was going on.”

  Ray Corson frowned. “I was counseling a student on a personal matter.”

  “Would you care to elaborate?” the principal asked.

  “I don’t see why I should. It’s nobody else’s business.” He glanced at Chris. “I’m disappointed you didn’t come to me about this, Chris.”

  Squirming, Chris rubbed his forehead. “I’m sorry—”

  “Excuse me,” Molly interrupted, gaping at Corson. “But you’re disappointed? Chris walked in on you and a student — in the locker room, embracing. You had your shirt off, and no one else was around. What was he supposed to think?”

  “Ray?” the principal said. “I’ll ask you again. Would you care to elaborate?”

  In that isolated chair, he might as well have been sitting on the witness stand. He stared at Chris. “I was running laps around the track when Ian Scholl came to see me about some problems he’s having at home and at school — as you often do, Chris. We spoke for about twenty minutes. He agreed to make an appointment to see me in my office this week. We shook hands good-bye. Then I went to take a shower. . ” He turned toward the principal. “I sometimes shower in the varsity locker room when it’s not in use.”

  “Go on,” she said.

  He looked at Molly, and she involuntarily shrank back a bit. “I started to undress,” he said. “After I took off my shirt, I realized Ian had followed me into the locker room. He still had some issues he wanted to discuss — very personal, very emotional issues. Maybe you think I should have put my shirt back on, Mrs. Dennehy, but it never crossed my mind. I was listening to this young man, who was hurting. Do you understand?”

  Molly almost nodded, but she held back.

  “Anyway, Ian started to cry — and I hugged him. That’s when Chris saw us. I know how it must have looked, but I also know Chris. . ” Corson had a wounded look on his face as he turned to him. “I figured you trusted me, and wouldn’t jump to any wrong conclusions about what you saw. I figured you’d talk to me about it if you had any questions or concerns. I guess I figured wrong.”

  Chris let out an unsteady sigh. “Why did Ian run away like that?”

  Mr. Corson shrugged. “I honestly don’t know. Why did you run away, Chris?”

  Chris opened his mouth but didn’t say anything.

  Frowning, Principal Carney tapped the end of a pen against her desk. “Mr. Corson, considering the time and place — and how you were dressed — I don’t think hugging this student was an appropriate action.”

  He straightened in the chair. “Considering the fact that Ian was crying and in anguish, I think hugging him was very appropriate.” He turned to Molly and then Chris. “Anyway, that’s what happened. Do you believe me, Chris?”

  “Yeah — I guess, of course,” he murmured with his head down. Molly barely heard him,

  “Then that’s all that matters,” Corson replied, standing. “As far as I’m concerned, we’re done here.” He headed toward the door.

  “Wait a minute, Ray,” Principal Carney said.

  “Please, let him go,” Chris interjected woefully. “Can we — can we — just drop this?”

  Glaring at the principal, Corson paused by the door. “May I go now, Hannah?”

  “Yes.” She nodded. “But this isn’t completely over yet.”

  Mr. Corson turned and walked out of the office.

  As far as Molly was concerned, it was over — mostly because she could tell Chris regretted it had come to this. Still, the principal seemed to have a valid point. Mr. Corson might have inadvertently crossed a line when embracing that boy in the locker room after hours. And didn’t Chris say it looked as if Mr. Corson was kissing the top of Ian Scholl’s head?

  Molly didn’t want to analyze it any more. That was Principal Carney’s job. If Chris wanted to drop it, that was fine with Molly. She could tell he was already wishing he’d never confided in her about what he saw.

  But Jeff wasn’t quite ready to let it go — though Chris begged him to forget the whole mess. Jeff mentioned to Angela what had happened, and she went nuts. She acted as if Chris had been sexually abused. Molly suspected Angela was trying to show everyone what crappy parents Jeff and his new wife were — allowing her son to consort with a potential pedophile.

  Her gal pals, Lynette Hahn and Kay Garvey, got involved, too. Lynette and Kay asked their daughters if they’d heard anything about Mr. Corson making advances on any of the male students. Had Chris said whether or not Corson had ever come on to him?

  Courtney Hahn had four hundred thirty-one friends on her Facebook page — all over the United States, and even overseas in London, Sydney, and Paris. On Saturday night, thirty-six hours after Chris and Molly had met with Principal Carney and Mr. Corson, Courtney broke the news to her Facebook friends:

  One reason I broke up w/Chris Dennehy was cuz he spent so much time w/Ray Corson & I wasn’t interested in a 3-way! Thursday night, Chris walked in on Corson with his shirt off molesting Ian Scholl (ick!) in the boys’ locker room after hours. I wouldn’t be surprised if he tried to do the same w/Chris. Pervert alert! Chris’s parents are pissed. I think Corson will be forced to leave the school.

  By Sunday night, Courtney, Madison, and all their friends were texting, Twittering, and discussing on Fac
ebook what they thought had really happened between Ray Corson and Ian Scholl — and Chris. That sad, private little moment in the varsity locker room was analyzed, joked about, and condemned by teenagers all over the country.

  The word spread fast to many of their parents, too.

  By eleven o’clock the following Monday morning, Principal Carney had asked Mr. Corson for his resignation, and he left the school.

  That had been almost six months ago, and Chris still hadn’t quite forgiven himself — or her. Molly thought about what he’d said outside the funeral home: “I never should have told you what I saw. None of it would have happened if I’d just kept my mouth shut.”

  Molly hadn’t noticed Principal Carney or any of Chris’s peers or their parents at the wake. Then again, why would they attend Mr. Corson’s memorial service? They’d all turned their backs on him months before.

  Watching the highway ahead, Molly took her exit toward home. She glanced at her cell phone on the passenger seat. She’d taken it out of her purse just in case Chris called. As she turned into the cul-de-sac, Molly noticed the NO OUTLET sign was still standing. She’d been checking it quite often lately.

  That little precautionary habit reminded her of when she was a teenager, babysitting at night in someone else’s house. When she got scared, she’d pick up the phone receiver every once in a while, then listen for a dial tone to make sure no one had cut the wires. The weird part about it was hearing a dial tone didn’t really make her feel safe. It merely reminded her how vulnerable she was.

  She passed the NO OUTLET sign and headed toward home.

  Molly knew she would check it again before the night was over.

  “Hello, is this Mrs. Corson?” Chris said into the intercom. Holding the mum plant, he stood by the gated entrance of a new apartment complex — four uniform beige buildings, each housing about twenty apartments. It was one of those charmless places that looked as if it had gone up in a hurry. He imagined residents coming home drunk probably had a tough time figuring out which building and apartment were theirs. It was in a cul-de-sac, between two more apartment complexes just like it.