Unable to contain myself, I bounce a little and say, “I met Goodie on the airplane.”
Arthur’s eyes twinkle. “No surprise there. She’ll be the mayor of the village before she leaves. Meets people wherever she goes. But Britta will be surprised. In fact, I’m guessing she’s just arrived.”
It makes me happy to know the sisters will be together during Britta’s surgery. Heidi was extremely helpful in practical ways, but also cried with me and made me laugh (gently) whenwe reminisced about high school and watched romcoms while eating my cookie dough creations.
Cateline gives me a brisk tour of the manor and then we go to her office to file some paperwork.
The headmistress sits behind her desk and jiggles her computer mouse to bring it to life. “Unfortunately, our enrollment rate has been shrinking, but as luck would have it, several American football players got into some hot water. Their commissioner decided learning etiquette might set them straight.”
She delivers the information efficiently, even though if it were my business, I’d be fretting about dwindling enrollment. The old me wore my heart on my sleeve. The new me keeps everything closer to the vest and is guarded—at least that’s what Heidi lovingly brought to my attention when she tried to get me to open up and push past the shame Todd caused.
“Everything around here has been sheer chaos as one of my teachers got another job and one retired. I’m grateful you were still available,” Cateline continues.
“Thank you for holding the spot open.”
We review my information to make sure it’s up to date.
Cateline clicks the mouse several times. “It says on the application that you’re married, but over the phone, you mentioned you were single.” She glances at my left hand and her eyebrows bunch together.
An immense sense of guilt keeps the symbol on my finger—not the engagement ring from Todd. I returned that one to his mother. Instead, I wear the wedding band I’d exchanged with the Viking. Even so, guilt nips at me like piranhas in the Amazon. Fearing insurance fraud authorities will catch me, I uphold the charade. Not only that, but marriage is a sacred vow. I’d never have gone through with the fake wedding had my life literally not been in jeopardy.
I’d exhausted all other options. I couldn’t remain in Virginia, where Todd and I lived unless I moved into a homeless shelter and applied for financial assistance to help cover the treatment. That also meant possibly putting my sanity—maybe even my life—at risk, depending on how long the process took with Todd nearby.
After the wedding that wasn’t, I maxed out what was left of my credit cards just to survive. Heidi offered for me to stay in the spare bedroom at her house, and I hurried there without thinking about what to do next.
I hadn’t thought about a cover story for why I was engaged, not married, and then married. There is no easy way to explain it. I opt to keep it simple. Cateline seems like a no-nonsense kind of person. By her brusque manner, she doesn’t have the time or interest to hear my sob story.
“I prefer to keep work and my personal life separate, but I am married.” That’s the truth, even if I spare the details.
“I understand and appreciate that. Working with clients as intimately as we do, it’s best to handle things that way and not let our personal and professional lives overlap.”
She shows me to my suite and gives a quick review of what to expect the following day when the new pupils will arrive.
“I don’t have the biography for your student prepared, but it will be ready in the morning. In the meantime, you can review this guide and our recommended attire.” Cateline wears a pointed expression as she passes me a book outlining the Blancbourg program. At that, she sweeps from the room.
In my teeny bopper outfit, I stand in stark contrast to the Victorian-style furnishings and antiques that fill the suite. After I shower and wipe off Manimal’s residue, I call the airline, hoping for a luggage update. Forget a phone tree, I get lost in a labyrinth as I try to reach customer service.
While a Muzak version of a yacht rock song plays through what sounds like a 1980s-era boombox that got run over by a semi-truck, blares in the background, I gaze through the window at the quaint village.
I recall my years traveling the world as a figure skater, bringing me to Concordia over a decade before. In a way, I wish I were still that version of myself—young, innocent, eyes wide to the world. Todd had all but stolen my sense of wonder.
As I stare at the reflection of the majestic mountains shining in the lake, along with the glow of the moon, I promise myself to get it back. Starting with that amazing slice of chocolate cake I’d eaten so many years ago.
Also, I’d like my suitcases returned, even if all they contain are Heidi’s castoffs. Like some kind of warped lullaby, the on-hold waiting music, the combination of nerves, jet lag, and the unfamiliar place sends me face down on the feather mattress and I sleep like, well, like a weasel—or I should say Manimal—with weird fairytale dreams.
The next morning, still without my luggage, I shower and change back into the daisy sundress. I may not have mentioned that my ballet flats are metallic pink. All that’s missing from the ensemble are bangle bracelets, a scrunchie for the perfect high ponytail, and a pair of gaudy clip-on earrings. I most closely resemble a character from one of the eighties movies Heidi and I would watch at my house because my father didn’t enforce preteen PG movies like her mother.
Like a champion at life, I brush my teeth with my finger and smooth the fluff and frizz out of my hair with the last squirt of hand lotion I had in my purse.
After charging my phone, which had died thanks to being on hold while I was passed out, it beeps with a few messages.
My heart hammers in my chest at several calls and texts from Todd. Switching my phone back to airplane mode, I tell myself not to get flustered.
I practice the breathing exercises my support group taught me. I scream into my pillow. I pull out the Cookie Dough Diary and tell it how much I want Todd to leave me alone.
He and Manimal would probably make great friends. Then again, I don’t want my ex, known in the business world as “The Spider,” to step foot in this country.
I fashion my mother’s voluminous pashmina scarf stylishly around my neck. I haven’t gotten used to the flat plane of my chest yet and opt not to wear the padded bra Heidi bought to give the illusion of two round bumps in place of breasts. For me, it’s easier to accept things if I don’t pretend.
