Portrait of a Girl Running

by J. B. Chicoine

“Miss Weiss got a little carried away during the self-defense demonstration. I guess I got a little carried away too.”

  “Is it true that Miss Weiss accused Coach of—you know, messing around with you?”

  Leila’s face reddened and she turned away. “Is that what everyone’s saying?”

  “Pretty much.”

  She returned to his gaze. “It’s not true.”

  “I know that.”

  “Then that’s all I care about.”

  “Jeez, Leila. What are they going to do about it?”

  “I don’t know. There’s some sort of hearing tonight. Mr. Myles is taking me, but I think maybe you’re not supposed to know about it.”

  “You know I can keep your secrets.” Kyle looked at her tenderly. “I am really sorry about the way I’ve been treating you. I’m such a jerk.”

  “Yeah, you kind of are.” She grinned. “So, after this secret rendezvous, are you going to ignore me again?”

  He shook his head. “No. Things are kind of fizzling between me and Maryanne, anyway ….”

  “Which has nothing to do with me, right?”

  “I can’t say it has nothing to do with you, but even though I know you and Coach aren’t, you know, I can’t compete with him. Besides that, I’m an unstable, horny teenage guy who’s thinking about all the hot chicks I’m going to meet when I’m away at college next year.”

  “You’re such a pig.”

  “Yeah. I am.”

  She touched his shirt. “I’m really glad you came.”

  “Do you think you’ll be at school tomorrow? ’Cause I could come pick you up, you know, since your car is still at school and everything.”

  “Thanks, but I can get it tonight. My shifting arm still works—I’ll drive myself tomorrow.”

  “Okay.” Stepping closer, he stroked her tousled hair away from her face and gently kissed her forehead.

  ~

  A throbbing pain and a whistling teakettle roused Leila as she shifted on her sofa. The painkillers she had taken after Kyle left had worn off. She braced herself to rise, startling at the sound of three taps. Mr. Myles waited on the other side of her door.

  She stood. “C’mon in—it’s open.”

  He stepped inside. “How’s the shoulder?”

  “Hurts—time for another pill.” She started for the kitchen.

  “Sit,” he said, now at the range, removing the kettle. “If you can stand the pain, it’s best you don’t get yourself doped up before the hearing.”

  She stretched her back. “Nice tie, by the way. What time’s the hearing?”

  “Six—it’s four now.”

  “Ugh—”

  “Think you can hang on?”

  “I’m not a sissy.”

  “No. You’re not.” He chuckled for the first time since the theater and loosened his tie. “Tea?”

  “Sure.”

  As he retrieved mugs from the cabinet, she scooted to the corner of the sofa. “So, I guess everyone at school is talking.”

  “Does that bother you?” Teabags dropped into cups.

  “Not particularly. I was only concerned about what Kyle thought.”

  “He’s a decent young man.” He poured water.

  “You’d liked to have seen the two of us together, wouldn’t you?”

  “What I think is not relevant.”

  “I want to know what you think.”

  He gave her his usual perusal. “Since you asked … I think given everything you are juggling, a romantic involvement with anyone right now would needlessly complicate your life.”

  “You don’t think I’m mature enough to handle a romantic relationship?”

  “Maturity has nothing to do with it.” He carried their cups on saucers. “It’s about emotional vulnerability.”

  “Well, you don’t have to worry about me and Kyle.”

  “I was under the impression that Kyle is not the one you want.”

  “He’s not.” She sighed. “It would just be nice to feel cared about.” She looked up into his face as he handed her a cup. The kindness in his eyes made her words ring hollow.

  “You can fill that need without the complications of a romantic relationship.” He sat, wedged into the opposite corner and sipped.

  “You make love sound pretty awful.”

  “Awful? Sometimes. Complicated? Always.”

  “Isn’t it ever wonderful?”

  He peered over the brim of his cup the way he did with his Rolling Stone. “Sometimes.”

  She wanted to ask about his personal experience, but didn’t dare—and he didn’t give her a chance.

  He sighed. “There are a few things I want to go over with you beforehand.”

  “Okay.” She sat erect.

  “When they talk to you, it’s very important that you be honest and straightforward. Since you haven’t been given an opportunity to collaborate with Coach Brigham, they will be looking for continuity in your testimony. Unless they press you on it, do not mention the nude photography. In fact, mention as little about the photography as possible. Don’t lie, but do not offer information unless they ask for it. Do you understand?”

  She nodded.

  He continued, “Although the board will be concerned about your welfare, when it comes right down to it, their weightiest concern is whether or not you’ll sue the district. Since Millville school board has an officious bent, and given they are aware you are without a guardian, they may likely feel freer to push issues that are not germane to the immediate case. Although your unsupervised status should not even come up, it may. If you get a bad gut feeling, you may respectfully decline answering those questions. If they persist, I will back you up.”

  Leila nodded gratefully. “Will I see him there?”

  “Coach Brigham? Probably not.”

  Chapter 23

  Leila sat with Myles in the small waiting room. It looked like one of the doctor’s offices she had been to with her father—a residential house remodeled to accommodate office space—with an ‘examination’ room down the hall. A clock on the wall buzzed as its minute hand completed seven slow cycles. Leila cradled her arm in the sling and winced.

  Myles stroked her back. “I’m sorry it hurts, but it’s good for them to see a little pain in your face.”

  “It’s okay. I’m okay.”

  A man stepped into the hall. “We’re ready for you.”

  Leila took a deep breath, and Myles rose with her, his guiding hand at her back.

  The man held the door open. Three gentlemen and a lady sat along the length of a large conference table, across from a single chair in which they asked Leila to sit. She glanced back at Myles as he took the seat behind her, near the door.

  “Thank you for meeting with us this evening. I’m Superintendent Fitzgerald.” He then introduced each member of the panel, including the attorney for the school district. “And, how are you doing tonight, Leila?”

  She rubbed her sling. “I’ve been better.”

  “Of course.” He glanced at her for only a second. “First, we would like to offer our sympathies regarding your father’s passing.”

  “Thank you.” Leila did not take her eyes off them. She studied each face, just as they were studying her. They didn’t smile, but they didn’t frown, either. She thought it odd that no one had acknowledged Mr. Myles.

  Fitzgerald read from his notes for a moment. “We understand you’re quite an athlete.”

  “No sir. I’m not.”

  He glanced again at his notes and back at her. “We were told that you are a runner.”

  “Yes, sir. I run.”

  “And you have plans to try out for track this year, don’t you?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Fitzgerald pinched a smile and nodded.

  “Well, let’s get down to business.” He again referred to his notes. “We’d like to start by having you explain what happened in your gym class yesterday.”

  Leila ran through the sequence of events, leadin
g up to the moment that Miss Weiss accused Coach Brigham. In response to Leila’s answers, each board member scribbled notes. Without pause, the chairman continued, “And would you please tell us about any previous interactions you may have had with Miss Weiss.”

  “Outside of usual gym-class stuff, we really haven’t had any.” She paused. “Though there was once at the beginning of the school year when she spoke to me about trying out for track.”

  “Would you tell us about that?”

  “I was speaking to Coach Brigham in his office and she came in. She was curious if I would be trying out for track. That’s all.”

  “And you had no interest in trying out for the track team at that time. Is that correct?”

  “That’s correct.”

  “Did she express any hostility toward you?”

  “No.”

  “Did she ever indicate that she did not like you?”

  “For the most part she ignored me. I don’t know what that indicated.”

  The Chairman nodded and flipped over the top page of his notes. Referring to them, he began again. “We’d like to ask you about your relationship with Coach Brigham.” Now he paused, looking at Leila. “How would you describe it?”

  “As friendly.”

  “Please tell us about the first time you met him.”

  Leila recounted in superficial detail what she had told Mr. Myles about her flat at the beach.

  “Aside from what you have already mentioned,” Fitzgerald said, “has Coach Brigham ever been alone with you outside of the school setting?”

  “Yes.”

  “Please tell us about that.”

  “He gave me a ride home just before Thanksgiving. He dropped me off, that’s all.”

  “Were you alone at any other time?”

  “I went to his house uninvited one Sunday afternoon.”

  “This was shortly after Coach Brigham tried to persuade you to try out for the track team—is that correct?”

  “Yes.” It had become obvious that they were informed, at the very least, that she had been there.

  “Please continue.”

  “I was lonely. I asked if I could see his photography because I’m interested in art. He agreed. I saw his work, and then I left.”

  “How long were you there?”

  “I don’t know, a couple hours maybe.”

  “Did you agree to try out for the track team as a result of that visit?”

  “Yes.”

  “Would you explain that?”

  “It’s kind of complicated.”

  “Miss Sanders—Leila—no one is enjoying this. Please just explain the situation.”

  Leila sighed. “Ms. Thorpe told me I didn’t have to attend gym class for the rest of the semester if I showed her how fast I could run. We traded. So, Coach Brigham thought I might be willing to bargain when it came to running track in the spring. The only thing I wanted was to see his photography. We traded. That’s all.”

  “Did any of his photographs include sexual content?”

  “No.”

  “There were no nudes?”

  “There were, but they were not sexual—certainly no more so than Michelangelo’s David.”

  The Chairman frowned. “Miss Sanders, we are not here to debate what constitutes art versus pornography.” He referred back to the papers in front of him and jotted more notes. “Miss Sanders—Leila—I need to ask you some questions that may be a little uncomfortable.”

  She knew what would follow. The questions were almost word for word what Mr. Myles had asked the night before. She answered unflinchingly as each board member noted her replies. Exhaling, Chairman Fitzgerald flipped the top page of his notes, signaling the end of that series of questions.

  “Please tell us about the last time you spoke privately with Coach Brigham.”

  “I was parked in front of his house and he came out. He told me that I needed to stop wishing for a relationship with him, because it was never going to happen. He said I needed to have a boyfriend my own age, and that I needed to go home and get on with my life—which is what I did.”

  “And, just for the record, Miss Sanders, when exactly did he become aware that you live on your own?”

  She squinted at each one. “On the day that I saw his photography.”

  “And how long have you been on your own?”

  Her eyes dropped and rebounded. “I’m not comfortable talking about that.”

  “Well, Miss Sanders,” he folded his arms and cocked his head. “You are a minor and the state has an interest—”

  Myles cut him off, “Chairman, Miss Sander’s living arrangements are not relevant to this hearing.”

  Fitzgerald finally acknowledged him. “Mr. Myles, as you well know, we are at liberty to determine what is relevant to this hearing.”

  “Yes, sir, and Miss Sanders is at liberty to have an attorney present during any questioning. She will, of course, need several days in order to retain legal counsel at which time you may resume your questioning.”

  Fitzgerald gripped the folder in front of him. “And, Mr. Myles, what exactly is the nature of your relationship with Miss Sanders?”

  “I would be very happy to disclose that in the presence of my attorney, at which time, if necessary, we can also address the issue of Miss Sander’s injuries and what punitive damages might be pursued.”

  The attorney cleared his throat.

  Fitzgerald lips puckered, his brows furrowing into a deep V. “We have no further questions at this time. You are both dismissed.”

  Myles followed Leila through the doorway and they walked silently down the hall and out the way they came in.

  “Did I do okay?” Leila asked when they stepped into the cold night air.

  Crow’s feet sprouted from the corners of Myles’ eyes as he smiled and took her right elbow, steadying her as they walked the sanded, icy sidewalk. “I could not have put better words in your mouth.”

  He opened the passenger door and assisted her into the seat.

  As soon as he climbed in, she asked, “Will Ian be in big trouble? Did I say too much?”

  “You were honest. And Coach Brigham is a grown man. He is accountable for his own actions. What happens to him is not your concern.”

  She pouted. “It is of concern to me. I care about him … a lot.”

  “Caring for someone does not mean we can always shield them from consequences, especially if he brings something upon himself.”

  “You don’t like him.”

  “What I think of him has nothing to do with anything.”

  “It means something to me.”

  “And that’s why I’ll refrain from sharing my opinion of him.” He pulled at his tie, loosening the knot.

  She growled under her breath. “You are so annoying sometimes.”

  “Yes. I know.” He started the engine but left it in park.

  Leila sighed. “So, what happens to me now?”

  “Well, don’t be surprised if in a day or two a state social worker visits you. Just in case, I suggest you fill your refrigerator and cupboard with food. Can you do that?”

  “Yes. What then?”

  “Under the circumstances, there is a chance that your case may come before a judge. Which means there’s a possibility that there may be a hearing.”

  “Will you go with me?”

  “Of course.” Myles hesitated and then looked at her. “Actually, there is something I would like to talk to you about.”

  “What is it?”

  Now, he stared straight ahead. “I’ve made an appointment with my attorney.”

  “But I don’t want to sue the school. It’s pointless to drag this whole thing out.”

  “The attorney isn’t for pressing charges against the school.”

  Now her shoulder ached worse. “Then why do I need an attorney?”

  His hands slid down the steering wheel and up again. As he inhaled deeply, his thumb tapped an even rhythm. “The attorney—the attorney is n
ot for you.” He let go of the breath he had been holding. “It’s for me.”

  “Why do you need a lawyer?” Her heart jumped into high gear. “You don’t really think they’re going to accuse you of a wrong relationship with me, do you?”

  “No, Leila. The lawyer is not for that.” He looked at her, his thumb now tapping sporadically. “If it’s agreeable to you—” he sucked in a short breath, as if winded, “—I would like to be assigned as your guardian.”

  She heard the words, but it took a second to realize what he had just proposed. In the next moment, her chest clamped down on her heart. Tears filled her eyes. “You … you want me?”

  He handed her his handkerchief before a tear dropped from her chin. “What I want is for you to be safe and cared for.” Now, his breath evened out. “However, this is more about what you want. I can provide some measure of security for you. The question is, would you be willing to have me as your legal guardian?”

  Leila couldn’t speak. She could only wipe her cheeks.

  “Leila, this cannot be some emotional decision. You need to give it serious consideration. What I would like to do is petition the court to grant you the right to live independently, with the stipulation that I be materially responsible for you and indirectly involved with your supervision until you graduate.” He let her think on that for a second and then continued. “I would like you to come with me to speak with my attorney tomorrow, and we could discuss the details.”

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  “I don’t want you to say anything right now. Sleep on it and we’ll talk tomorrow.”

  ~

  Clarence Myles sat across from his lawyer, Ruben Feinberg. The husky man’s leather chair creaked as he pushed a folder across his desk toward his client. Myles had allowed a few days for his lawyer to draw up the paperwork, which had also given his attorney plenty of time to speculate—Myles knew Ruben well enough to read the scrutiny behind his deep-set eyes.

  “This is the rough draft, as per our telephone discussion.” Feinberg turned his skewed brow to Leila. She squirmed in her seat. Myles held the opened file so Leila could read along. She rubbed her knee.

  “Miss Sanders, please note that although Mr. Myles wishes to acquire a limited guardianship over you, he is petitioning for full guardianship. The reason being, in case the judge feels you need full supervision, he may assign it to Mr. Myles rather than place you in foster care. Mr. Myles’ willingness to assume financial responsibility for you may be a compelling reason for assigning him guardianship. However, you should know that his unmarried status is a strong strike against him.”