“Unfortunately, Central Office also received a phone call from a student’s close family member about the same concerns. Mr. Kirby has collected these accusations over the last few weeks, as has the Central Office.” She pulls out a file I hadn’t spotted, and it’s almost as full as the one I’ve been building. “A phone call over the weekend from the family member was, unfortunately, the point where we have to draw the line.”
The coward knew this was coming.
“Who? What family member?” I ask, frustrated, scared. “I’m sorry, but I have no idea what this is in relation to.” I continue, shaking my head. I can’t believe this is happening to me.
“I’m sorry, Ms Duchamp, but you’ll need to pack your things and leave until this accusation is fully investigated.” The HR has a sympathetic tone, but that’s not doing me any good.
“I don’t have an opportunity to defend myself? What did I even do?”
Ronnie shakes her head, also sympathetic. “I’m sorry, but no. Wealso can’t disclose the exact complaint, or from whom the complaint originates.” She then stands up and straightens her jacket, signifying the end of this farce of a meeting. I sit and stare at the two of them, off kilter now, and Ronnie holds her arm out as if guiding me out the door. Numbly, I stand and follow instructions, a little lost on what else I evencando.
I didn’t do anything wrong.
I look over as I pass Jill, and she barely glances up from her computer screen. She doesn’t pause in whatever she is doing, continuing with God knows what on her damned computer and making some stupid fucking phone calls.
The HR representative leaves out the front door, and the principal chaperones me back to my now empty classroom, like I need a babysitter.Look out, I’m gonna lose it in a fucking school! As-fucking-if.I ignore her standing at my door, as I take my time, print an email, gather my things, like a certain folder, and walk out the door without meeting Ronnie’s eyes.
I’m not protected here, so I need to protect myself. It’s fine, though. I’m already making moves. I have plans. The timeline just moved up.
20
THE VIDEO
CARTER
It’s been three days since I’ve last seen or talked to Becky. I’m trying not to dwell on the negative and focus on everything that went better than I could have ever expected. This weekend was one of the longest, best, worst weekends of my life. Saturday, Becky and I sat around her house and made a game plan to get Taylor out of our lives, or at least off our backs. There are a lot of steps, but I know my part. What she doesn’t know is I’ve already started.
Saturday afternoon I made her dinner, or I suppose it was a late lunch. I’ve been practicing my cooking skills since the night everything fell apart. One of the things I recognized when I was alone in my parents’ home these past few weeks, was how much responsibility she took on in our home, our shared life. So, yeah. I practiced. Neither of us got food poisoning. I count it as a win. Once we cleaned up after eating, we finalized a few key pieces, and I went back to my parents’ place. Alone. Again. She didn’t reach out on Sunday, or on Monday, and I didn’t push it.
My mind comes back to the present when Benson Boone’s new, way overplayed, hit begins crooning from the radio. I consider switching stations, but it’s one of the only stations in our area that doesn’t play country or Christian music, and I’m not really in themood for either of those. So, I keep it on. I’m on the main road, driving to work, and start tapping and bobbing my head to the music.
“You know, it’s kind of hard to hear over the sound of my truck.” I say to nobody in particular as I turn it up. I must black out, because the next thing I know, the people in the car next to me are staring because I’m sitting at our single stoplight in town, belting out the chorus of the song, no longer casually tapping my hands, but beating them against the steering wheel. I don’t even stop when I notice them.Fuck it.I’m feeling this song right now. I mentally add it to one of my playlists.
The song ends as I’m pulling up to Billy’s Auto, and Billy himself is waiting for me in the front. The catharsis I felt melts away at the look on his face. He’s a gloomy fuck most of the time since everything happened with his ex-ish wife. I don’t know if they’re even divorced to be honest. His face right now looks more menacing and dangerous than usual. I take my time parking my truck and head his way. I check my pockets for my phone and wallet four different times. He’s my friend, but he is still terrifying.
“You need to come with me.” He says with no preamble before turning and walking straight into the office.
“Okay…” I follow him in, and he shuts the door behind me. Then he closes the blinds and turns the lock.
What the fuck. I’m going to die.
He walks past where I’m standing awkwardly in the middle of the dark office. The light from the monitor, which he turns to face me, is the only light illuminating the space. On it is a recorded video of Paul working. Wellworkingat the desk. He’s probably just playing solitaire. I look up and see the blinking light of the office security camera in the corner.This is fucking weird.
I turn my attention back to the video when a knocking sounds, and Paul calls out, “come in.” When I see Taylor walk in, I double check the date on the screen.This weekend.
“What the fuck?” I breathe out.
“Shut up, watch, and listen. But you might want to close your eyes for part of it.” Billy bites out. So I shut up, watch, and listen.
“Hey, baby.” Taylor purrs at Paul.What the fuck?I mouth it this time, eyes locked on the monitor.
“Tay tay baby, come here.” Paul says back to her, leaning back in the office chair. I watch as she flips the lock and pulls the blinds before making her way to Pauland sitting in his lap.One quick look confirms, they’re sharing the same one I’m sitting in now. I stand up and shove the chair away from me, but keep my eyes on the monitor.
“Baby, I need you to do something else for me.” She whines while she runs her fingers through his hair.
“What else could I do? They’re already split, you’re getting her how you can in your little teaching job, you got the damn flower thing going?—”
“They stopped delivering for me.” She interrupts him. “I called and some lady made a stupid fake fucking static sound and hung up on me. These small-town hick shops are useless anyway.”
