Part 20 (1/2)
”What? What else?”
”Miss Bolaris claims that you took an unnatural interest in her.”
My stomach knotted and I felt crazy. The last time I had felt that crazy was when I knew Mark was having an affair and he wouldn't admit it. His earnest protests had made me feel as if I were spinning a hysterical web of fantasy. But this was worse. So much worse because of the extremity of the lie and the fragility of the trust.
”Unnatural,” I said.
”She claims that you convinced her she was being abused and that you encouraged her to leave her family and come live with you.”
”Live with me? I live in a trailer. I don't even have room for a cat.”
”The point is, she says you have become obsessed with her. She says you made certain gestures toward her.”
My dread hardened into a knot of anger, lodged in my chest. ”Advances, you mean. s.e.xual advances.”
”She stopped just short of saying that you did anything. Physically. More like you emotionally persuaded her.”
Somehow I managed to override my fear and disappointment. I found the power in the anger that was now invading me and spreading through my body like a fever.
I managed not to give voice to the eruption. I calmly explained to Officer Mulligan that I had only cared about Hallie as a teacher. And that Hallie had confided in me, had as much as confessed that she was trading herself for music lessons. I told him about her pregnancy and how it had mysteriously gone away. I told him about her bruises and about my tense visit to the Edwardses' home. I told him about my obligation, as a teacher, to report any concerns that I had. I had concerns and I weighed them carefully and consulted a friend before I made the decision to call someone. It had been difficult, I told him, but I couldn't just stand by and do nothing.
Officer Mulligan nodded with an understanding expression. Then he asked if I was married. I told him I didn't think it was relevant. He asked if I had a boyfriend, and I told him that was really not relevant and then I demanded to know if I was being charged with anything.
”No, not officially,” he said. ”But these are things you'll be asked eventually. If you end up in court.”
”All you need to know is that I'm a teacher. I'm her teacher. And teachers take more than a superficial concern in their students' well-being.”
”Well, the good ones do,” he admitted. ”But the problem with teachers is that they are often left alone with their students. So sometimes it's just your word against hers.”
”So is that how it is? These days, a concern is interpreted as an inappropriate response?”
He leaned forward. ”The social worker just couldn't find any evidence of what you're talking about. Miss Bolaris is not pregnant. There's no evidence that she ever has been. There's no evidence at all of abuse.”
”Fine,” I said. ”Then I was wrong. But you can't blame me for wanting to know.”
He nodded and stared at me, twisting back and forth in his chair.
”Can I go now?”
”Sure, you can go anytime.”
I stood and he didn't. I waited. He was looking at me in a way that I'd seen before. As if I were some kind of pathetic specimen, a relic from the past, something he'd glimpsed before and might never see again.
”I suspect this will all blow over. But if I were you, I'd stay away from Miss Bolaris.”
”That won't be a problem.”
I walked through the bull pen, toward the place where I thought I'd first come in. The blood was ringing in my ears. When I got to the door, I was surprised to find Officer Mulligan had followed me. He opened the door for me.
He said, ”You know, I'm a bit of a musician myself. Hacked around on the guitar when I was young. It was just never going to happen for me. My father is a cop, and his father was. This was always going to be my path. But I admire you people. I admire what you do.”
”That's fascinating, Officer. You might have to find someone else to tell the story of your broken dreams.”
”Oh, I don't think dreams really break, do they, Miss Swain? They just kind of move around.”
I was standing in the parking lot, trying to remember where I had parked, when Hallie and her mother came out. Hallie saw me and averted her eyes. Dorothy followed her gaze and wasted no time in coming up to me.
”I hope you're happy,” she said. ”I trusted you.”
I looked away from her. I stared at Hallie, who was concentrating on her shoes.
Dorothy said, ”My husband is a well-respected man. The last thing we need is a scandal. So I'm more than willing to let this all go if you promise never to get within a hundred yards of my daughter again.”
I trained my eyes on Dorothy at last.
”So now she's your daughter?”
”She told me everything. I know who you are. I know what I know.”
”And I know what I know. Maybe we should just leave it at that.”
”You artists. Real life is not enough for you. You just have to embellish, don't you?”
”I'm not an artist.”
”Stay away from us. Do you understand?”
She marched away from me, and I watched her go. I stared at Hallie until I thought her skin might bleed. She wouldn't look at me at all. I walked away and I didn't turn, even after I heard her running toward me. She grabbed my arm and I still wouldn't turn.
She said, ”Don't you see how you messed everything up?”
”Let go of me.”
”They almost made me leave. I can't leave. I don't have anywhere else to go.”
I still couldn't look at her. But I said, ”I tried to help you.”
”I didn't ask you to help me.”
”Sometimes people help without being asked.”
”Yeah,” she said. ”But then it's not a gift. It's a burden.”
I shook her hand off my arm and unlocked my car door.
I didn't look at her again until I had her framed in my rearview mirror. She was following Dorothy, her arms crossed and her head bowed to the ground. I saw, or thought I saw, a look of grim determination on her face. As if all of life was a battleground and she was planning her next move.