Other People's Houses(42)

“I know.”





Nineteen.


Charlie waited in the outer office for Mrs. Garcia to be ready. Her assistant, Jillian, watched him surreptitiously from under her lashes, occasionally reaching for another Werther’s caramel from the dish on her desk. She went through a bag a day, and her back teeth ached in the evenings. She made a mental note to buy flossers. The candy was supposed to be for the kids, but they were all too scared their parents would find out they ate sugar. Those same parents always helped themselves, of course. Assholes. She loved the kids and despised the parents, like every other member of staff at the school.

Charlie had finished the caramel she’d pressed on him when he arrived, and now his mouth felt dry. He was about to ask her where the water fountain was when the inner door opened, and a small child exited the principal’s office. The kid looked fine, so clearly not a punishment-type visit. Maybe he was just going in for a hug; that was the kind of principal Mrs. Garcia was: sweet and friendly, unless you transgressed in the drop-off line, or sent your kid in without the correct PE kit or whatever, at which point she turned twice on the spot, reverted into her basic demon form, and released the kraken.

She smiled at Charlie, and for a second he thought he saw pity in her dark eyes. Impossible, he reminded himself, nobody here knows anything about Anne.

Once in the office he took a seat, still warm from the kid. Mrs. Garcia was a larger woman, but she moved elegantly around her office, lowering herself into her chair with a smile for the parent across from her. Mr. Porter was handsome, she thought, and wondered how long he would stay single, assuming he was finished with his wife. She was a cold fish, thought the principal, but sometimes the coldest fish was the most compelling catch. She’d seen husbands take wives back far more often than they didn’t. Men got lonely easily, she concluded. Fragile little fuckers.

“Mr. Porter, what a pleasure. What can I do for you?”

Charlie cleared his throat. “I just wanted to let you know that there’s going to be some upheaval at home over the next, you know, little while, and I wanted you to know in case Theo and Kate seemed, you know, upset or something.”

Mrs. Garcia looked concerned. She wanted to say, Yes, I heard already, your wife has been cheating and you threw her out and now your children’s lives as they knew them are going to be over, and let’s face it, that’s going to be like a total volcanic explosion and pyroclastic flow of white-hot shit rushing down the mountainside toward their little heads. But instead she said, “Oh? Nothing too serious I hope?”

Charlie reddened. “I’m not sure. Just some . . . issues between their mother and me . . . She’s moving out . . . Hopefully we will all be adult about it and they won’t feel too unsettled.”

Again, the internal voice of Mrs. Garcia, who had seen divorce and domestic violence and abuse and starvation and all manner of bullshit aimed at kids in her three decades of public service, wanted to say, Well, if you were being adults in the first place none of this would have happened, but, as always, we’re all just human beings with the frailties and failures that implies. But her audible voice said, “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Would you like some advice?”

Charlie looked at her, and for the first time since walking in felt like he was truly seeing the woman across from him. Her face was kind and patient, although she doubtless saw this all the time. He clutched at the straw she offered. “Yes, please.”

Mrs. Garcia sat back in her chair and steepled her fingers. “For your children, this will be the worst day of their lives so far. They will always remember where they were when you told them their mother wasn’t at home anymore. You need to be very clear this is not because of them, that you both love them more than anything, and that the adults will be working to make things better. You don’t need to tell them any details, and they understand that people fight and disagree, they do it all the time. But up until now it has never occurred to them that their parents would separate. They’ve heard of divorce, they know parents can break up, but it’s like I leaned across this table and told you that everyone but you can talk to animals. You’ve heard of the concept, you’ve seen it in the movies, you’ve seen it on TV, but you never thought it was real. From today onward they will never feel completely secure again, and I’m afraid that will just have to be OK. That’s life, life can change in an instant, we all know that. Today is just the day your children find that out.”

Charlie stared at her. “That’s advice?”

Mrs. Garcia smiled. “Yes, sorry. Don’t think about what you need to say, Mr. Porter, think about what they need to hear, OK?” She frowned at him. “Will Mrs. Porter be there for this conversation?”

Charlie shook his head.

“Then you should wait until she can be. They need to see her to understand she’s not leaving them.”

“I don’t know where she is right at the moment.”

Now Mrs. Garcia looked stern. “You need to know that, Mr. Porter. You’re very angry with her right now, as your wife, but she will always be the mother of your children. You need to be able to reach her in case anything happens to them, or in case you need her help. You may end up divorced, but you can never be truly separated, because of Kate and Theo.”

Tears suddenly welled up in Charlie’s eyes, and the principal pushed a box of tissues across the desktop. It was already half empty, and Charlie fleetingly wondered how many of those tears had been those of parents. “I don’t want to see her.”