by Heidi Lowe
"I don't care that they know, Danielle. I'm not ashamed of who I am." She said this in a tone that sounded very accusatory. And the scathing look that accompanied it, that she shot at me, gave me goosebumps.
I hurried to sit beside her, rested my hand on her thigh. "I'll never forgive myself for not going after you."
"You would do the exact same thing if you had a do-over, let's be honest." I thought she would push my hand away, but she let it sit there. She was mad, furious, but not enough that my touch no longer meant anything to her. "You stayed with your husband and your friends. You were right where you were supposed to be."
"That's not true. Where I'm supposed to be is with you. We were happy until he showed up. That was real."
She didn't look convinced. "That was an illusion." My hand fell off her leg when she got up. I got the feeling she did it purposefully. She walked to the window, her thinking spot.
"What is that supposed to mean?" I questioned.
"Nothing. Just that the future we envisioned for ourselves, or rather the future I envisioned for us, won't be possible."
"Are you giving up on me?"
She stared at me. Before we started our affair, there hadn't been a moment when I hadn't seen her smiling. Since I'd arrived that evening, she had yet to crack a smile. Could I really have been causing more misery than joy? The thought terrified me.
"No." She sighed, and her shoulders sagged. "I'm just disillusioned, that's all."
I went to her, even though she didn't ask me to. I stood before her, helpless, so she could see that I was just as hurt as she was. But most of all, I needed her arms around me. It was selfish of me expecting it when she was the one who'd been embarrassed the night before. But her hugs, her kisses, were like my lifeblood on a bad day.
"I love you. If you remember nothing else, remember that," I said. Her mouth was closed, her arms folded, but I kissed her anyway, let my lips linger. And eventually she opened her mouth and gave in, allowing our tongues to do their familiar dance. And soon her arms were around me, where they belonged.
I was still in her bad books, so once our lips parted ways, I said, "I've been house-hunting for a couple of weeks."
The first sign of a smile. "Really?"
"Really. I have a couple of viewings lined up this week."
"That is the best news I've heard all day. Why didn't you open with that?"
"Because I needed to apologize first. Grovel. Plead. Beg..." I kissed her, and she squeezed me tighter.
"Where have you been looking?"
"Not too far from the school. And you..."
Now the smile was back in full force. "Well, that's a good compromise if I can't have you here."
We made love that night, and although it was beautiful, I felt the storm cloud hanging over us. The elephant in the room that neither of us wanted to talk about. That what happened at the party wasn't something we could ignore, hide away from, if we ever wanted a future outside of the bedroom. And that, despite my words now, the fact remained that I'd let her leave the party, without going after her, without supporting her.
As I fell asleep in her arms, I prayed that I never had to make that decision again, even though I knew it was inevitable. Because I still wasn't sure if I could do what was required of me...
And then the ultimate test came the following week.
EIGHTEEN
I shook the real estate agent's hand. She was a young woman, all business, and very good at what she did. Unfortunately, she couldn't spin her magic with the three properties she showed me that day. One too small, one far too big, and the other...well, it was perfect...until the neighbor came out and informed me that the previous owner had abducted and killed two women in the house. No thanks. I'd had enough bad luck as it was.
"I'll give you a call when we have something else for you. We have a couple coming on the market that I'm sure you'll love."
I thanked her and went on my way. Now that I was truly serious about moving, nothing seemed right. It wasn't that I didn't want to – on the contrary, Dominic had turned up the obnoxious dial big time, and I couldn't bear being in the house with him. The new house needed to be the right fit, not just for me but for Chester. And the move, as seamless as possible.
I glanced at the dashboard clock. Perfect timing. I had fifteen minutes to get to school to do the pick up.
I sung along to some of the seventies songs that came on the radio, feeling more cheerful than I had in the past week. I hadn't seen much of Ava, as she'd started an evening Mandarin class three times a week, in preparation for a trip to China the following year.
But tonight she was all mine, thank God. I got cranky when I didn't see her.
Miranda was stepping out of her car as I parked up. She waited for me. I also hadn't spoken to her properly since the party, beyond passing hellos and goodbyes.
She had her gossip face on. I smelled trouble.
"Did you know Dominic was at ours the other night? Forgot his watch on the night of the party."
"I don't know what he does most of the time," I said, disinterested. This wasn't the type of response one expected from a happy wife, but I didn't care anymore.
"He stayed for a drink. We had a very interesting talk about you."
My stomach did a lurch. Oh no, what had he told her? Did she know about me and Ava?
"You talked about me?"
"Ah-huh." She slapped a hand on my shoulder, chuckling. "Don't worry, it wasn't anything bad. We were just saying how brave you are, how progressive. You know, still remaining friends with Miss Petal."
I frowned. "Why wouldn't I still be friends with her?"
"Because she...you know, bats for the other team. It's good that you don't have a problem with that sort of thing."
"Miranda, it's the twenty-first century. There's nothing progressive or noble about having a gay friend." It hurt having this conversation with her of all people. Would she also consider herself progressive and noble for having me as a friend, if my affair ever got out?
"I'm just saying."
I changed the subject. But she jumped right back onto it a minute later while we were in the playground.
"She's a nice lady and all, but I don't know if a school is the right place for her, you know."
"What is that supposed to mean?" I felt sick now, close to throwing up. My good mood was sinking into the abyss. This was the elephant in the room Ava and I had been unable to discuss: Miranda, and others like her.
She didn't have enough time to respond, because the bell dinged, and moments later the doors swung open and the kids spilled out, running to their parents and guardians.
Chester came crashing into me with a hug, making me laugh. That always brightened up my day, even if only temporarily.
"Good day?" I asked, ruffling his hair, which was already as scruffy as ever.
He nodded and started telling me all about what he got up to. When Ava spotted me, she gave me a faint smile of greeting. A non-verbal cue that meant much more than anyone else would ever understand. Encompassed in that gesture was a declaration of her love for me. And my returned smile, my declaration of love for her.
"Miss Petal, I need to talk to you," came the sudden, angry shout of a mother, who was all but dragging her small daughter across the playground by the arm.
Everyone had stopped to look now. And despite being shouted at, Ava smiled politely. I swallowed, sensing that things were about to turn ugly.
"Did you put a band-aid on my daughter's knee?" the woman demanded. There was a bright-colored band-aid on said knee.
Ava frowned. "Yes. She fell over in class."
"And you had to be the one to put it on?"
She frowned deeper. "Yes, I'm her teacher. I didn't want her cut getting infected. Don't worry, I'm First Aid trained." She was trying to stay positive, trying to lighten the mood.
"You can't just go around touching our daughters like that. In future I'd like one of the other teachers to handle that sort of thing."
T
he blood seemed to drain from Ava's face; and I was sure from my own, too. Now almost the whole playground was watching and listening to her being condemned for doing her job. And I got the feeling everyone knew what this was about. That rumor hadn't taken very long to spread.
She couldn't have held onto that smile if she'd tried. And no one would have expected her to.
"You have a problem with me putting a band-aid on your daughter?"
"I'm not the only one." The woman held her daughter close, as though protecting her from the big, bad Ava. "It's not appropriate. I have no problem with you teaching our children, of course, because I'm not a bigot. But I draw the line at any type of physical contact."
"What exactly is it that you have a problem with, Mrs. Richter?" Her voice was cold, her stare even colder.
"Well... You know what. Parents talk. And we believe you should have disclosed details of your...orientation before you started teaching here. As I've said before, I'm not against you teaching our children–"
"On the contrary, Mrs. Richter, you seem to have a very big problem with it. And my "orientation", as you put it, is no one's business but my own. It has nothing at all to do with my ability to teach."
One of the father's stepped forward, a man who had been one of Ava's biggest fans, always striking up conversations with her in the mornings. He'd stopped doing that since the party. Still, I held out hope that he would at least see that what this woman was saying was madness, and come to Ava's defense.
"I do understand her concerns. I don't think it's right that you didn't disclose it. Some of us have daughters. We're concerned about their well-being."
You fucking asshole! I wanted to scream at him. The only reason why you're so pissed off that she didn't disclose it is because you spent months trying to get into her pants.
I couldn't believe what was happening.
"Mom, why is Sara’s mom angry at Miss Petal?" Chester's big, doleful eyes peered up at me, almost tearful.
"Because she's being ignorant," I said quietly. "You remember what that word means, don't you? Miss Petal taught you."
He nodded.
"And you seem to think that your daughters are, what, in danger in my classroom? Because I'm gay?"
A circle of angry, "concerned" parents seemed to have formed around her now. They were like vultures. Like playground bullies. And although most stayed back, watched from the sidelines and said nothing, the small group was loud enough.
"I just don't want you putting your hands on my daughter, all right?" Mrs. Richter shouted.
"Nor do I. I don't want you getting ideas, or...or... Well, who knows what you people think like. And there I was thinking it was only male ones we had to watch out for." This disparaging remark came from another mother with a daughter, a crow-faced woman who, in the years that I'd known her, had always been complaining about something. But this was by far the worst I'd ever seen her. It was also this line, a line so sick, that made me finally step forward, weakly.
"All right, I think that's enough." My voice was shaky and uncertain. The pain in Ava's eyes was so obvious, so loud. I felt sick.
"It's all right for you, you have a son."
"Yeah. And how can you still defend her after what we know about her? You had better keep your distance lest you want people thinking you're like that too. Guilty by association."
My mouth and throat were as dry as the desert, and when I tried to speak, I found I couldn't. But it was the look that Ava gave me then, the look of complete and utter devastation, of lost hope, of despair, that cut like a knife. When she looked at me she saw betrayal. I turned away, kept silent.
"I must say," she said after a moment, addressing the outraged parents, "it's refreshing to know how you all think. Thank you." She disappeared back into the building. And I...I didn't go after her. Once again.
"What a bloodbath!" Miranda said as we made our way to our cars. "The claws really came out. I don't envy her. I mean, do people actually believe she'll harm their children?"
I couldn't speak. It wasn't too long ago that she'd expressed similar concerns to the others.
I didn't even say goodbye to her, just loaded Chester into the car.
"Mom, Miss Petal looked sad," he said, with a sadness of his own.
"I know, honey. I know."
I knew we were through even before I arrived at her house that evening. I was fully expecting her not to open the door when I knocked. Why would she want to see me? What I'd done, or failed to do, was despicable. Unforgivable.
But she did open it, and she did let me in. I looked at her face, saw the dried tear streaks. It killed me to see her like this. And when I reached out to stroke her face, she shoved my hand away.
"I know you're mad at me, Ava," I said, swallowing back tears of my own. "But please let me explain."
She gave a humorless laugh. "This feels a lot like déjà vu. We've been here before. Not so long ago."
"I'm sorry." The words sounded so pathetic and meaningless. I needed more, better ones, but what did you say to the woman you'd betrayed?
"Yeah, so am I." She was at her window spot. "They actually believe that just because I'm gay I'm some sort of pervert. That their kids need protecting from me. This isn't the first time something like this has happened. A little girl last week told me her mother said I wasn't allowed to touch her because it was "unhealthy". All I was doing was giving her a high five for getting a math question right..." She burst into tears.
My heart ached for her. And once again I tried to comfort her, but she shrugged me off.
"You don't get to do that anymore," she said. "You let them say those things to me and didn't once defend me. You're supposed to be my girlfriend, yet you stayed and watched me suffer. And remember, when they talk like that, they're talking about you, too."
"But I'm not gay." Oh God, wrong response. Wrong goddamn response. It was as though I'd erased everything we'd shared together. Erased our love in one simple sentence.
Through her tears, she looked at me in disgust. "Only when it suits you. Wow, that has got to be the fastest backtrack I've ever seen."
"What did you expect me to say?" I demanded. Her glare was ice cold and made me shiver. She'd once looked at me with nothing but love. Now it was hatred that filled her eyes. "Telling them I'm sleeping with you was hardly going to help either of us."
"You should have said something!" she screamed. "Anything would have been better than just standing there, as though you agreed with what they were saying."
I cast my eyes to the floor. Beneath my feet was the rug that we'd made love on. Where we'd also exchanged our first I Love Yous. It all seemed so long ago. In a sense, it was. We were past that now. There was no going back, or even moving forward. Not for us.
"I can't be what you need me to be, Ava," I said in a quiet, trembling voice.
"I just needed you to be there for me." She sounded defeated, all the fight gone from her voice. "I'd like you to leave, please." She didn't look at me when she said that.
I didn't move immediately. My legs felt numb. I wanted to tell her that I loved her and probably always would, but my mouth felt numb, too.
She tutted, then stormed from the room. "You can see yourself out then."
This end was inevitable, of course. Because of my cowardice. The truth was, I'd witnessed the ill treatment of an out lesbian, a woman I loved with all of my being, and knew I wasn't cut out for that life. Ostracized and shunned by friends and acquaintances. My marriage was a joke, a miserable pantomime, but it afforded me a privilege I had grown accustomed to. I'd spent so long trying to build the perfect life, worked so damn hard to maintain it, which meant putting up with Dominic. I'd destroyed relationships with my family in pursuit of it. My love for Ava wasn't enough to get me to walk away from all of that. It wasn't strong enough to make me brave.
I cried in my car, which was still parked across the street from her house. I could see her door. I wished I could have been the woman she wanted me to be. I
prayed for a miracle. And then I drove home after an hour of bawling my eyes out all over the steering wheel. Home, to my life of privilege, and to a husband whom I hated.
NINETEEN
I didn't see Miss Petal at school for the remainder of the week. When I asked Chester where she was, he said she'd called in sick. They'd had a substitute.
It was easier for me that I didn't see her so soon after the break up. Perhaps easier for her, too. My heart ached too much, and seeing her would have only sought to remind me of what I'd lost. What I'd, in effect, given up.
Who could blame her for calling in sick, after the knives had come out? How quickly everyone had turned on her, as though they'd forgotten all the wonderful things she'd done for their children. Kids who had trouble with spelling were now able to spell. Likewise with math. I'd heard it time and again, what a miracle worker she was, the best teacher their children ever had. And they'd still turned on her, so unnecessarily, too.
I should have defended her.
It still haunted me that I didn't. That I wasn't dependable. It still stung that she thought of me as not her lover, but the woman who betrayed her. I vowed that in time I would summon the right words to say to her. I needed her to know that I did love her, I just wasn't strong enough to be with her. She could hate me for being weak, but not because she thought our time together meant nothing to me.
But when the new week began, and she failed to show up, it became apparent that she wasn't going to return. The principal confirmed at the end of the week that she had in fact resigned.
And so began the new cycle of substitute teachers, kids falling behind academically, and generally everything we all hated as parents, that had made us consider removing our children from the school.
We'd broken her. A woman who had been a breath of fresh air, to all of us, not just our children. We'd pushed her out. When I spoke to the principal he mentioned that she had decided to tutor privately until she got a new teaching post in a school. He seemed just as distraught to see her go as I was.
I had a lot to think about. Going back on the substitute merry-go-round wasn't an option. I didn't want that headache again, worrying about my son's academic future.
