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."I considered reminding him that Mom was an excellent teacher and had taught at the Bartlett school almost as long as I'd been alive.I considered mentioning that there had to be hundreds of people who would be vocal on her behalf--both parents of the kids she had taught, and the kids themselves, now grown into young adults.But those sentiments seemed both obvious to me and naive.Nevertheless, I decided that I'd talk to Molly Cochran after dinner and see what she could tell me.Molly was one of my mom's best friends, and she'd started teaching six-year-olds at the school almost the same year that my mom had started teaching the kids who were eleven.Then, once I knew what Molly knew, I'd call my mom in Colorado.We sat on the couch by the woodstove, and Molly showed me class pictures."Lord, Chrystal's in sixth grade now," she said, shaking her head."I adored Chrystal.Still do.She would bring me a drawing every day when she was in my class, including these absolute horrors she made with something called Blush Art.""Blush Art?""It's just like it sounds.Little pads of cosmetic blush you pat on your paper.It comes with stencils, so the pictures are pretty generic.Unicorns.Cakes.Women with very big hair.The problem is that the stuff stains, and so the year I taught Chrystal, I had a dry-cleaning bill that rivaled the national debt.Humongous.Just humongous.But I love that girl, she is incredibly sweet.""And her parents are behind the petition?""I don't know if they're behind it.But I promise you they've signed it."Molly lived in a house that had once been a barn, on land that had once been a cornfield.She lived about a mile and a half outside of the village, so I had borrowed my dad's car and driven there.And though I had called first, Molly and her husband had two boys in elementary school--one in the second grade and one in the fourth--and so their house was completely trashed, despite the warning they'd had that I was coming.Every time either of us moved, we were gored by one of the plastic aliens her kids had left in the cushions of the couch."I don't know the family," I said."You probably wouldn't.They live out in New Haven.And you can bet that if your mom and Dana stay together, your mom won't get to know them real well either: They'll either begin to home-school their little Chrystal, or they'll demand that she's transferred into Carolyn Chapel's class," she said, referring to the school's other sixth-grade teacher.When I was eleven, Mrs.Chapel had been my teacher."It must be really hard to home-school a kid," I said."It is.As a parent, you have to feel awfully strongly about something to do it."Upstairs we heard a thump and then laughter.I must have looked up toward the ceiling reflexively, because Molly was quick to reassure me that it was only her husband, Clayton, and the two boys.They were supposed to be reading, but it was clear they were wrestling."Let's see, Audrey LaFontaine: Her family won't be happy about this either.""No?""Nope.Fundamentalists.They're also in that church in East Medford.Same with the McCurdys.Of course, there could be worse things to happen to your mother than to lose Brian McCurdy.""A difficult child?""Actually, just the opposite.But needy beyond belief, and guaranteed to fail.Your mom always cares way too much for kids like that.She lets them bring her down."I didn't know Brian McCurdy, but I did know his older sister.Terry.Terry was the sort of girl who was never invited to the really good parties, and tended to accessorize badly.She was also from a house where it was clear bathing was optional, and so she wasn't very popular.Nevertheless, I'd always felt bad for her, and in eleventh grade I'd made it a personal self-improvement goal to eat lunch with her at least once a week in the cafeteria.I'd even suggested we take driver's ed together, though it had meant sitting in the backseat of a Dodge Dynasty with her for an hour a day in the spring, a formidable task given her family's evident indifference to laundry and soap.Of course, self-improvement has its limits when you're sixteen: I never had her over to my house."What's Terry doing now?" I asked."Haven't a clue.But working somewhere, I imagine.She was, in her own way, very industrious.Unlike her brother, who's merely exasperating."I knew that Brian and Terry were part of a pretty large brood, and so it crossed my mind that poor Terry was simply spending her life baby-sitting."Let's see," Molly murmured as she flipped open another folder with another class picture."The Duncans will be trouble.And so will the Hedderiggs.""Are you worried?" The question had come out abruptly.I'd meant to ease into my concerns more gracefully, though I'm sure Molly knew I was anxious.That was, after all, why I'd come by.Without looking up from the picture she answered, "A little.But it's like your stepmother said: They can't do anything.Really, they can't.""They can just, what.circulate a petition?""Actually, they can do something much worse than that," she said, and she looked straight at me and her face became serious."Much worse.""What?""Meetings, Carly Banks.They can make us have meetings."Chapter 21.allisonIN THE DAYS IMMEDIATELY AFTER HER SURGERY, I grew accustomed to talking to Dana while her feet were higher than her head.Three times a day her bed was tilted this way, while warm pads soaked in saline were applied to her new vagina.She'd fold her arms across her chest and I'd sit in the chair with the view of the Huajatolla, and we'd chat about nothing.The weather in Trinidad.The weather in Bartlett.Whether her painkillers were better or worse than a daiquiri.Sometimes she'd reach over for my hand, and she'd kiss the tips of my fingers.Outwardly, she didn't look any more feminine than she had a week or two earlier, and in some ways she may have looked less: She wore little makeup in the hospital, and her hair had fallen flat because she couldn't wash it.But she seemed more womanly to me, and sometimes she seemed downright maternal."You are taking care of yourself, aren't you?" she asked me Wednesday night--New Year's Day--barely thirty-six hours after her surgery."Of course I am," I said.That night when I returned to my hotel room, waiting for me were chocolates and flowers and a half dozen paperback books she'd ordered for me before we'd even left Vermont.The surgery had gone well, and there seemed to be no postoperative complications on the horizon, and so on Friday morning Dana suggested that I take our rental car and go for a drive.She thought it would do me good to get out--out of the hospital, and out of Trinidad--and she reassured me she would be fine.She said she had plenty to read [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]