Pushing Perfect(62)

“Message received,” Mark said, as the waitress walked away.

We waited for him to start, but he was looking off to the side again. Thoughtfully, though, not like he was avoiding us. I didn’t know Justin that well, but Mark didn’t seem like his type at all—he was much quieter, lower key. But maybe that was it; maybe Justin needed someone like that, to balance him out.

“First, I just want to say that I never meant for any of this to happen. Especially not to you”—he looked over at Justin, whose expression didn’t soften at all—“but not to any of you. I didn’t mean to get in a relationship with a student, though I’m not sorry about that at all—”

“Maybe you should be,” Justin said.

“Come on,” Mark said. “Just let me apologize. Yes, I get that getting together with Justin opened the door to Samantha’s blackmail—”

“Samantha?” Raj asked.

“Ms. Davenport,” I said. So we had it. Confirmation that she was Blocked Sender. I started to feel sick. Ordering food had been a mistake.

“But I never meant for any of this to happen. You have to believe me.”

“Enough with the excuses,” Justin said. “Just tell us the story.”

“Okay,” Mark said. “Here goes.”





24.


The waitress came back with our drinks and told us the food would be ready in a minute. Given that we were the only people in the diner, I wasn’t surprised; what else did they have to do? I hoped she’d take her time, though—it sounded like Mark had a lot to say, the way he was gearing up to talk, so we might be there a while.

“Like I said, I hadn’t meant to get involved with a student, especially not during an externship. It’s against college rules, and it’s also a distraction for someone who’s serious about teaching, like I was. Am. But I couldn’t help myself.” He reached out for Justin’s hand, but Justin pulled it away.

“The heart wants what it wants,” Alex said, practically singing.

“Seriously, Alex, cut it out,” Justin said. “I get it. You’re mad at me. You’re welcome to have at me later, but now’s not the time.”

Mark ignored them, which I thought was a smart move. “Samantha was assigned to be my mentor for the externship, which at the time seemed like the best thing that had ever happened to me.” His reserve fell away a bit there; he gave a sniff that I suspected was to keep him from saying something sarcastic. “She’s a great teacher herself, as I get the sense some of you already know, and she seemed completely committed to her students, like I wanted to be. She’d come observe my classes and give me really helpful feedback; she’d meet with me in the teachers’ lounge and go over lesson plans with me. She was dedicated and committed and perfect.”

“What changed?” I asked.

“We became friends,” he said. “I didn’t confide in her right away, not during the externship, but when it was over we got to talking about our personal lives. She’d just gone through a really horrifyingly messy divorce, and I was in love—it was all I could talk about.”

“You told her about me?” Justin practically jumped out of the booth, but Raj held him back.

“Not right away,” Mark said. “She just knew there was someone; she didn’t know who. But time passed, and you and I were still together, and she and I had become so close—I knew all about her ex, and problems she was having with her family. Her grandmother had raised her but now she was sick, in a nursing home, and Samantha was going to have to start paying for it when Medicare ran out. Her ex was supposed to be sending her checks but he’d stopped, and there was a whole bunch of drama with her mother about selling her grandmother’s house.”

I looked over at Alex, and she gave me a little nod. We’d found the right Nora Sinclair, then.

“And she was so frustrated with the school system, how little the teachers were paid in relation to how much money there was in the community. She was so open and honest with me, even her issues with the school, with students, that it didn’t occur to me that it wasn’t safe to be open and honest with her. About anything.”

“So much for keeping things secret,” Justin said.

“Obviously that was a mistake, in hindsight. But it didn’t seem like it at the time. At the time she was a perfect confidante—she was sympathetic and helpful. We stayed in touch after fall semester when my externship ended, and she wrote me the recommendation that got me my current teaching job. She was basically the best friend I could imagine.”

“Because she was imaginary,” I said, starting to understand. “None of it was real.” Ms. Davenport had made Mark think they were friends, and he’d poured his heart out to her. Just like she’d made me think she was just trying to be a good teacher and counselor for the rest of us, convincing us—convincing me—to tell her things I wouldn’t have told anyone else.

It was all a lie.

“Well, maybe some of it was real,” Mark said. “I think the stuff about her mother and her ex-husband was. And her money troubles, and how frustrated she was getting with school. The best liars keep their falsehoods to a minimum; it makes them more convincing. And she was probably the best liar I’d ever met.”