A Charter to That Other Place

by Sean Boling

  Chapter Fourteen: Candice

  There weren’t many apartment buildings in town, and Candice knew them all, their interiors and exteriors, thanks to her job. One of her fellow property managers joked that everything you needed to know about renting an apartment in their territory could be found in the real estate listings.

  “If you can’t get into a house here,” he wheezed between sips from his 64-ounce soda, “You might as well give up.”

  With some exceptions, she considered it a fair portrait.

  She walked the inner courtyard of The Oasis Apartments and wondered if she would ever meet the owners of the building. She was certain they had never seen the place. An occasional dead palm tree teetered high above the complex, trying to lend credence to the name written in bamboo font above the street address, but the dehydrated fronds at the top clacked in the wind and undermined the effort. The back patios were enclosed by cinder block walls painted light brown that stood waist-high to an adult, making it easy to steal the items gathering in the corners, if they were worth stealing. Some residents did complain of theft, of things undeniably worthless. Candice supposed the only reason anyone would take a Big Wheel with a missing big wheel, or a rusted toaster oven with a missing door, was to feel as though something, anything, had been gained.

  The only possessions in good shape were the satellite dishes mounted on the tops of the short bunker walls, and nobody stole them because everybody had one. Many of the walls had stains running down them, remnants of when a potted plant stood on the ledge leaking soiled water, or a tenant emptied their grease pan.

  Candice sat on a bench in the center court along the weathered path that was the same color as the dried grass that it passed through. She reviewed the report she was going to file on behalf of a resident who had not been able to completely turn off the bathtub spigot for two years.

  Nothing ever came of these requests, however, and once again she found herself growling, “Three days.”

  She thought burying herself in work would sublimate her anger over recent events, but she kept falling into the same disgruntled mantra.

  “Three days.”

  The owner of The Oasis took money from the people who lived there, whose money came from whatever government subsidy they were on. There were profits for the top, and help for the bottom, and she was stuck in the middle, where there were no profits and there was no help.

  As it was with everything.

  As it was with Live Oak Charter Academy.

  She didn’t dare come to campus. She texted Isaiah and told him she was out for a while, maybe for good. He kept his reply simple, “I understand,” and left it at that.

  She even avoided the parking lot. She was afraid of what she might do or say if she got too close to the building. She picked up Zoey and Mia in the same spot that she had been dropping them off every morning, as she had for the past week. They stood on the sidewalk several paces down from the parking lot entrance, and even Zoey looked tired of this routine.

  “Hello, ladies!” she put on a cheery face as Mia climbed into the front seat and Zoey the back.

  While they responded by rote and buckled their seat belts, Candice scanned the campus for signs of the Pluma family, found none, and noticed that Dale was still avoiding his old routine of mingling with the parents after school.

  “Has Mrs. Pluma been teaching art?” Candice asked as they pulled away from the curb.

  “Yes,” Zoey answered from the back seat.

  “I haven’t seen her car,” said Candice, glancing at Mia.

  “She leaves early,” Zoey continued to do the talking.

  “Isn’t Artie back?”

  “She takes him with her,” Mia finally joined in. “They come late, after morning announcements, then leave after her session with the eighth graders.”

  “That’s about an hour before school ends,” Candice noted.

  “Lucky Artie!” Zoey chimed in.

  “I’ll say,” Candice muttered.

  “What?” Zoey asked.

  “Nothing,” Candice said, and looked over to find Mia glaring at her.

  “What?” she addressed Mia’s disdain. “They obviously know they got off easy. Otherwise they wouldn’t be sneaking around.”

  “Got off easy for what?” Zoey asked.

  “Nothing,” Mia said to her sister.

  “Nothing,” she then said to her Mom.

  Candice lifted her fingers above the steering wheel in mock surrender. They spent the rest of the drive home in silence.

  As they pulled into their driveway, Zoey asked if she could check for eggs and feed the chickens. Their house was within the city limits, but in a small development of homes on the edge of town built on quarter-acre parcels that provided enough space to allow their father to pursue his dream of being a gentleman farmer, the same dream that motivated his purchase of the used Jeep Cherokee that Candice still drove after his dream reached its morning after.

  While chickens remained in the coops, the livestock pens stood empty. Mia raised a lamb as a 4-H project the first year they moved in, but was heartbroken over having to sell it for meat, and their father left before he got around to filling the property with any other animals. Zoey had heard the story of selling the lamb, and decided to stick with eggs as the sole sustenance provided by their layout.

  “That would be very helpful, Zoey,” Candice said. “Thank you.”

  Her youngest daughter was out of the backseat and through the back door of the garage the moment they stopped. Candice was proud of being the only person in the neighborhood who was able to park in her garage. Mia liked to remind her it was only because they didn’t have a boat or jet skis, not because they were any more tidy than the others.

  Candice was surprised that Mia remained seated as the garage door closed behind them. She wanted to try and get her to talk some more, but was expecting to have to chase her down to do so.

  Not only did Mia stay, she initiated the conversation. Granted, it wasn’t the same one Candice had in mind.

  “Nobody knows what happened,” she snapped at her Mom while continuing to look through the windshield. “Only the people involved. So why would the Plumas need to sneak around?”

  “Whoever told on Artie knows,” Candice pointed out.

  Mia looked her way.

  “Beatrice would never tell anyone,” she said.

  Candice took advantage of being the one who could look askance this time.

  “Never tell anyone besides Mr. Benton,” Mia clarified.

  “I’m sure people noticed Artie was missing for three days, and I’m sure Beatrice wasn’t the only one who saw something. She was just the only one brave enough to do anything about it.”

  “And you’re the only one making a big deal about it.”

  Mia got out of the Jeep and passed through the door that led into the kitchen. Candice followed her. Mia took advantage of her head start and was almost to her room by the time Candice caught up and blocked her way.

  “If it’s not that big of a deal, then why won’t you tell me what happened?”

  “Ask Mr. Copeland,” Mia looked down.

  “He said he would be willing, but wanted to give you the opportunity first.”

  “I don’t want it.”

  “Yes, you’ve made that clear, but I really, really, really don’t want to talk to Mr. Copeland about anything right now, much less this.”

  “How about Mr. Benton? You two get along.”

  “Mia, please…”

  “I don’t know!” Mia shrieked. “I don’t remember!”

  Candice tried to hug her, but Mia squirmed away.

  “Can I please just go to my room?” she said, clearly on the verge of tears that she clearly didn’t want her mother to see.

  Candice nodded and stepped aside.

  She was hoping that Mia would slam the door, right in her face, so that Candice could get back to feeling angry. But instead her daughter gently shut the door, and when
the latch struck into place, the small sound of its click tore through Candice and left an echo that only she could hear.

  She floated back down the hall as she reconsidered every decision she had ever made, and arrived at the kitchen in time to meet Zoey entering from the back door with an egg in the palm of each hand.

  “Double whammy!” Zoey proclaimed, thrusting the eggs forward.

  “Great,” Candice managed to say.

  Zoey lowered the eggs.

  “Are you okay, Mom?”

  “Fine.”

  “Is it the thing with Mia?”

  “Well…yes.”

  “You should talk to someone about it. That’s what all the adults say.”

  Hearing the advice coming from her second-grade daughter elevated it above the cliché, and made her realize there was a good reason it was repeated so often.

  “You are absolutely right, my love,” she kissed Zoey’s forehead. “I’ll do that. Now why don’t you add those eggs to the carton in the fridge and get started on your homework.”

  Zoey kissed her back and complied, bouncing over to put away the eggs, then trudging in an exaggerated slouch over to her backpack on the kitchen table.

  “In your room, please,” Candice said.

  She slid her backpack off the table and remained true to her performance all the way to her room, as the sound and rattle of her overstated stomping filled the house until her door closed, bringing a temporary halt to the youthful dramas.

  “At least hers is fake,” Candice mused.

  She didn’t want to talk to Isaiah, to expose herself even more. But all of her other friends were in cities she had left behind, and she hadn’t done a good enough job of keeping in touch with them to maintain the right to call them all of a sudden to vent about a situation that she would have to explain first.

  She started with a text.

  Can I call you? she wrote.

  She remained standing and stared out the window at the front yard next to the driveway. Replacing the lawn with drought-tolerant plants that were leftovers from a landscaping project contracted by her employer was a great idea. She had made at least one good decision in her life, after all.

  Isaiah wrote back. She imagined him in the classroom doing some grading.

  Certainly, he typed.

  Now?

  Yes.

  She tapped on the number and he answered before the first ring completed its note.

  “I’m sorry to bother you,” she said.

  “I was looking for an excuse to take a break,” he assured her. “What’s up?”

  “You probably know.”

  “Probably.”

  She was glad that they were talking on the phone rather than in person. She could pace and hide her facial expressions as she struggled to choose her words carefully. And if she chose wisely, she had a chance to come across as being interested in a civil discussion rather than a rant.

  “She won’t talk to me about it.”

  “About how she feels?” he asked. “Or what happened?”

  “About anything.”

  “She’s embarrassed.”

  “Was it that bad?”

  She realized that sounded like a hint.

  “Not that I’m asking you to tell me what happened,” she clarified.

  “It’s okay.”

  “Oh,” she wondered if that meant it was okay to ask.

  And if that was the case, she wondered if she wanted to hear it from him.

  “I really don’t know much, anyway,” he said.

  “Oh,” she said again, and bared her teeth at herself for being so repetitious.

  “Beatrice came to the front of the bus on our way back from Pluma’s field trip,” he explained. “She told me Artie was back to his old tricks with some of the girls, and I sent him over to Dale’s office when the bus pulled in.”

  “Old tricks?” she quipped. “More like a pattern.”

  “You’re right. Poor choice of words.”

  Candice hadn’t thought that a detailed account of the event was what she was after, but now that such a direction was crossed off, she wasn’t sure where to go next.

  “Candice?” Isaiah said after the pause had grown lengthy.

  “Sorry.”

  “What did you want this conversation to be about?”

  She wasn’t sure how to answer the question, so she said the first thing that came to mind.

  “It must have been pretty bad if she’s that ashamed.”

  “It certainly wasn’t good.”

  “How are the kids interacting with each other?”

  “The kids in general, or Artie and Kimmy and Mia?”

  “So Kimmy was the other girl?”

  “You didn’t even know that?”

  “Perfect,” she reared back then bent forward. “Just perfect. Mia must think I know. She hasn’t asked for permission to spend time with Kimmy lately. Then again, she hasn’t wanted to go anywhere. How is she doing at school?”

  “All right. A little quiet. Kind of like the earlier version of Mia this year.”

  “But her work is okay?”

  “It is.”

  “What about Artie?”

  “What about him?”

  “Any remorse?”

  “He’s not proud of himself.”

  “Why would that even be an option?”

  “I’ve seen lots of kids wear a suspension like a badge of honor. You’ve seen it, too. He’s not doing that.”

  “I guess I had him all wrong.”

  “Candice…” Isaiah sounded like he was trying to reboot the conversation. “You said you wanted to talk. So let’s get off the kids and talk about how you’re feeling.”

  “Isn’t it obvious?” she was veering into a rant, but couldn’t stop. “And what makes me even more angry and frustrated is that no one else is angry and frustrated. Three days? Three days? That should have happened weeks ago. Months. He should be gone by now. Maybe I shouldn’t be talking to you. Maybe that’s the problem. I should be talking to everyone. If everyone knew, maybe they would feel like I do.”

  “I’m frustrated too, Candice.”

  “Are you?”

  “Yes.”

  “You could have fooled me.”

  “I’m resigning.”

  The phone may as well have blown up in her hand. The silence after the blast was deeper than the noise before it, then it rose to the surface of a normal hush.

  “Maybe resigning isn’t the right word,” Isaiah said at last. “I’m finishing this year, but not coming back. You know I’ve been concerned about the way things are going here, and this incident pretty much sealed the deal.”

  Candice wasn’t able to say anything. The news was still ringing in her ears.

  “I’ve sent out some applications,” he continued. “If I get any interviews, they’ll be in the spring. That’s when I was going to tell you, and the kids, once I had a sense if there was any interest.”

  “There will be interest, Isaiah.”

  “I’ve moved around a lot. That may scare some people away.”

  “All it takes is one,” she said. “If one of them interviews you, they’ll hire you.”

  “That’s nice of you to say. And I know you’re not feeling like saying anything nice right now.”

  “I feel like telling the truth. Some truths are nice.”

  The quiet this time was shared. Neither seemed capable of breaking it. Perhaps out of habit, Isaiah was the one who did.

  “I wanted to be more prepared when I told you,” he said. “I wanted it to be under better circumstances.”

  “But I wanted proof that you were on my side,” she said. “And I got it.”

  He exhaled.

  “Could you please do me a favor and not tell anyone? I’d like to deliver the news myself when the time is right.”

  “And because you still need Dale as a reference?”

  There was a pause in which Candice assumed he was debating whether t
o respond to what she said. If that was the case, he decided not to.

  “Do I have your word?” he asked.

  “Of course you do, Isaiah. Who am I to stand in the way of greatness?”

  “Thank you. I’m sorry.”

  “I’m sorry, too. You’re welcome.”

  She heard him hang up.

  “Good talk,” she said anyway.

  Candice was more grateful than ever for having had the conversation over the phone. She was able to sit on her couch and fall onto her side and smell how musty the cushions had grown before she started to cry.

  She kept reaching for anger, and kept finding sadness.