Archives for July 2013

Chapter 52

Ron ate his Chinese food and listened to Joni Mitchell’s music.  He felt himself finally calming down. He stared out the window at the dark street and the blackened snow that was now just dirty ice and slush.

When the phone rang again, he moved to it with the order of spiced eggplant still in his hand.

“Hello.”

“How are you?” drawled Warren Lashly.

Involuntarily Ron felt his heart quicken. Warren never called him. Something must be wrong. He wasn’t sure that he could take too much more pressure today.

“I’m fine Warren, what’s up?”

“You still working at teaching those little girls?”

“Yup, still working at it.”

“I know this is gonna sound a little strange, but April’s been wanting to see you and she asked me if I could give you a call. She’s been sick. She’s been very sick actually and she needs something from you.”

Ron said, “OK,” and paused.

“Well, she’s here right now and what she asked me to do was to call you and see if you had any pot. She’s been very nauseous.”

“What’s wrong with her?”

“I’ll let her tell you that. Is there any way that you can drive some down here tonight?”

“Sure Warren, I can do that for her. Now you aren’t gonna have me busted for bringing any pot to Rahway are you?”

It was a reference to the way that Warren had dissolved the partnership between Chris and him, the partnership that had begun Rahway. It was a move that forever had tagged Warren with the nickname of The Sheriff. Ron, of course, would never have turned Warren down about anything and he knew it.  He would be forever grateful for what Warren had done for him with teaching, with helping him to get well after Robin, but that didn’t mean that he couldn’t break his balls a bit.

“There’s no need for that,” said Warren.

The “that” was left ambiguous and Ron decided not to pursue it. “I can be there in about an hour.

“We’ll see you then,” said Warren and then the phone clicked dead.

Ron glanced at the clock. It was 7:30 on a school night but he knew that he was going to do it.

Kelly answered the backdoor and smiled brightly as if Ron was one of her best friends. She bent into him and kissed his cheek. Ron felt her breasts press against her his chest and it caused him to twitch in his pants Sometimes he hated his cock. It left him with absolutely no dignity. His eyes watched Kelly’s ass as she led him through the kitchen and down the one step into the sunken living room.

Laureen, April and Warren were seated by the fire. Ron recognized the Brahms Requiem that was playing softly on the stereo. April smiled when he walked in and stood. Ron almost gasped at the sight of her. She had always been thin, but now she was cadaverous and she wore a red checked bandana on her head that promised that there was not much underneath it. She came to him and put her arms around his neck and kissed him. Her body felt like nothing but bones and there was a stale smell on her breath that Ron recognized from Zoe. April had been vomiting. She took his hand and led him to the group after she whispered. “Thank you so much for coming down like this.”

Ron sat on a pillow, keeping his back to the fire. He opened his jacket and took it off and let it slide down in back of him as he reached into one of the pockets and took out a small bag of pot and some rolling papers. He handed them to April, who blushed without color and said, “I don’t know how to do it.”

Warren cackled. “Well, Ron can sure help you with that if not with a lot of other things too.”

Laureen giggled and said, “Warren, you’d better be nice or Kelly won’t sleep with you tonight.”

Kelly giggled and Warren smirked the smiles of someone very sure of himself.

Ron’s eyes danced at Laureen’s quip. He said, “Guess there’s not much that you can hold over me, huh Laureen?”

“That’s just one of her phone calls to Robin away,” said Warren.

Ron smiled. “I don’t think so.” Then he smiled to himself. He really had not felt anything at the mention of her name.

Laureen said, “Well thank god for that. It was becoming tedious.”

Everyone laughed and Ron found that he could laugh as well. He stood and pulled an album cover from the shelf, opened it and then opened the bag of pot and began to roll a joint.  Looking down at the composer he said, “Richard Wagner, do you think he’ll mind?”

“He’s seen a lot worse,” quipped Laureen.

Ron laughed again and looked into her dark eyes. “I really have missed you, he said.

Laureen stiffened as if his statement had reminded her of something uncomfortable.

“I spent the afternoon in the police station,” said Ron. “One of my students was shot to death by his father.”

Everyone was silent as Ron cleaned the pot and rolled the joint. Laureen said, “Well, that was a real conversation stopper.” She got up and moved into the kitchen to get something to drink.

Sitting with the album cover spread open on his lap, Ron rolled joint after joint until there were 10 in a neatly stacked row and the bag was empty. The talk moved from the college to what was happening in New York’s museums. Ron half- listened. Then he looked up and saw that the group was staring at him.

“What?”

“How did you learn to do that so quickly and so well?” said April.

“Lots of practice,” said Ron.

“Too much for his own good,” said Warren.

“Well it’s a lifesaver for me tonight,” said April and lit the joint. She inhaled deeply and passed it to Ron who shook his head no.

“I’ve got to get going,” he said. “I have to be in early.”

“Ron Tuck refused a joint. Will wonders never cease?” said Laureen.

Ron slid his arms back into his jacket and met Laureen’s eyes. They were dark and dancing. He thought for an instant that they were actually quite beautiful. “I was thinking the other day about whether there was ever a woman that I went to visit and called on the phone who I did not also wish to fuck. Yours was the only name that came to my mind.”

Laureen laughed. “I’m not sure whether that’s a compliment or an insult.”

Ron stood up. “I meant it in the most complimentary way.”

“Why did the kid’s father shoot him?” said Warren.

“I don’t know. I only know that I was the last one to see him alive before he was killed.”

He half turned to April. “Anytime I can help you out just give me a call.”

“Which probably means that he wants to fuck you,” laughed Laureen.

 

Chapter 53

“The test on Acts 1 and 2 will consist of twenty significant quotes from the play. You will receive one point for accurately identifying the speaker. One point for explaining any literary devices that are in the quote and you will earn three points for explaining its significance to the story and setting the context in which it was said.”

The groans were loud. Two of the girls flipped their books closed like they were giving up. “How are we supposed to remember every word of the play?” said Barbara. “We aren’t like you. We don’t have it all memorized.”

Ron smiled his best dimpled grin but they weren’t buying it. “Listen,” he said gently, would I ask you to do something that you couldn’t do?”

“Yes,” they responded in a responsorial that Ron thought was too spontaneous to not be heartfelt.

“OK, what impossible things have I asked you do?”

“You want us to memorize this stupid play,” said Connie.

“You make me write until my hand is cramped into a claw, “said Sonia. She accented her compliant by twisting her hand into a claw and holding it up for the class. Everyone, including Ron, laughed.

“Every time I think that I have finally figured out what you want, you announce that you are raising the bar. Sometimes I want to pick up the bar and beat you over the head with it, Mr. Tuck,” said Julie.

There was dead silence. Everyone thought that she had gone over the line. They had never seen Mr. Tuck write a discipline referral but half of them were sure that this was gonna be the first one. The story was that he had never written one and all the girls so wanted that to be the truth.

“Learning is hard,” he said gently. “But you girls are better than you think that you are. Let me show you.” He turned and walked to the book. He seemed to open it at random and said. Who said, “Why do you dress me in borrowed robes?”

“That’s easy,” said Barbara. “Mac said it to the witches when they called him the Thane of Cawdor.”

Ron smiled. He was gonna get them. “And what is the literary device?”

“It’s imagery,” said Rose. “And that other thing.”

Connie said, “Mo’ teef” she said in the funny and exaggerated way that he had taught them to remember it and they all laughed.

“And what is a motif?”

“Repeating something until it gets more important,” said Connie quickly.

Ron closed the book and smiled at them. ”See you know more than you think that you do. This isn’t gonna be hard.”

“Let’s do more,” said Julie, whose plan was to write all of them down.

“Good,” said Ron. “Everyone’s notebook out.”

They sped through the next 10 quotes almost flawlessly. They didn’t really know it but Ron was taking them directly from the test. They knew the stuff cold.

 

Ron was used to the wall of noise and light that slapped him when he entered The French Maid. He made his way to the best available seat and put a $20 on the bar.

“Welcome back, honey,” said the gum cracking bartender.

He grinned. “White wine, please.”

She smiled and gave her hips a little strutting wiggle when she went to get it. He had been there enough times to be clocked by the bartenders. This one wasn’t married and the dancers hadn’t said anything about him trying to tweak a nipple or saying anything really perverse to them when they danced for him.

When he saw Emerald, he felt his heart begin to pound. He had been half looking for her since the day that he had skipped out of The Hitching Post without another word. He was wondering if she would act annoyed with him or whether she would recognize him at all. After all, how many guys had slipped her dollar bills since Ron last saw her? How many guys had come to the next club where she was dancing? How many guys had just left her working without a good-bye or another word?

He didn’t want the answers to any of these questions. He wanted the fantasy of her. He wanted to watch her bend over for him and smile at him from between her legs. He wanted to watch her crawl for him and squint and tell himself that it was Robin crawling and that he was punishing her by making her do this until he was ready to take her back.

She was wearing an outfit that he hadn’t seen before. It was thin and white and he could see the outline of her nipples and the swell of her labial lips and the whisper of the crevice between her cheeks. He sat back and gazed at her. He was pretty sure that she hadn’t noticed or recognized him until she stood right in front of him on the stage and using her hands like blinders on the sides of a horse’s head displayed the entirety of her breasts for him and smiled.

Ron extended his dollar, creased lengthwise and sticking out straight. She grinned and came down from the stage to get it. She opened herself again and pressed the backs of his fingers against her chest as she took it.

“Thank you for coming to see me the other day.”

“I’m sorry that I couldn’t stay longer,” said Ron.

“It’s a crappy place,” she answered. “I don’t think I’ll be dancing there anymore.”

Then still holding the dollar, she climbed back up onto the stage. She turned and spread her legs wide. She took the dollar and scratched it up the back of her left thigh and then the back of her right thigh and then sliding the end of it up and down right along the thinly clad slit of her pussy. Then she stood and turned to face him and folded it in half and slipped it down the front of her sheer G-string. She gave it a pat and moved away. For the rest of the set, Ron could see the outline of it pressed against her. It made him very hard.

When she worked the bar, he gave her another two dollars and said, “That was a very sexy thing that you did before.”

He expected her t say something smart-assed or maybe nothing at all, but instead she said, “I did that just for you.”

When she came out of the dressing room she came over to his chair and said, “I promised a guy over there that I would sit with him, so if you are still here, I’ll see you after my next set.”

Ron’s face registered disappointment and she smiled. He felt a jealous rush and then told himself that he was being ridiculous. He sat back against the bar chair and watched and sipped wine and thought about Zoe. There was something about her that he missed. It was the way that she made him feel handsome.

He had always been told that he was a good-looking guy, but he had never really believed it. Where he had grown up, the standard for “good looking” had been a short thin guy with dark hair and an olive skinned complexion. Ron was none of that. He stood just under six feet tall and was broad shouldered. He had light brown hair that turned shades of blonde in the summertime. He had a round face. Instead of full, sensual lips, his lips were thin. When he wasn’t running he tended to develop a bit of a gut. He didn’t have one now, but that was because he hardly ate two meals a day. He wondered if all self-concepts were formed in childhood.

The girl dancing in front of him was doing pole work. He watched as she held herself upside down on the pole and opened her legs very wide. Ron stared at her pussy. He loved the sight of a woman’s vagina. He loved to touch it, to kiss it, and to fuck it. The way that it closed around him when he entered it was almost indescribable. And then Emerald was standing at his shoulder again.

“I’ve got a few minutes before I have to go back up,” she said.

“Could I see you sometime?” said Ron. “I mean not here, really see just you.”

He felt her stiffen and she looked into his hazel eyes. “Do you really think that would be a good idea?”

“Yes,” said Ron. “I really do. I’ve thought about you a lot. It would be great to be able to sit at a table with you and just talk and eat or drink or something.”

“And then what would you think when you saw me here, bent over for some other guy who was waving money at me?”

“I don’t know.”

“I do. You’d hate it and you’d hate me for doing it even though it’s my job.”

“I don’t think that I would.”

“I know that you would. I do much better as a fantasy than I do as a girlfriend.”

“I’ve had people say that about me too,” said Ron. “That I’m not real and that I can’t be a real person.”

“You’re real. You’re too real.” She slid off the stool that was next to Ron. “I’ve got to dance. “I think that you should just see me here and be nice to me and then I can be nice to you too and nothing will get complicated.”

When she walked away Ron could not help but stare at her ass and way that the bottom parts of her cheeks jiggled. “Maybe I like things complicated,” he said to himself.

 

 

Chapter 52

Ron ate his Chinese food and listened to Joni Mitchell’s music.  He felt himself finally calming down. He stared out the window at the dark street and the blackened snow that was now just dirty ice and slush.

When the phone rang again, he moved to it with the order of spiced eggplant still in his hand.

“Hello.”

“How are you?” drawled Warren Lashly.

Involuntarily Ron felt his heart quicken. Warren never called him. Something must be wrong. He wasn’t sure that he could take too much more pressure today.

“I’m fine Warren, what’s up?”

“You still working at teaching those little girls?”

“Yup, still working at it.”

“I know this is gonna sound a little strange, but April’s been wanting to see you and she asked me if I could give you a call. She’s been sick. She’s been very sick actually and she needs something from you.”

Ron said, “OK,” and paused.

“Well, she’s here right now and what she asked me to do was to call you and see if you had any pot. She’s been very nauseous.”

“What’s wrong with her?”

“I’ll let her tell you that. Is there any way that you can drive some down here tonight?”

“Sure Warren, I can do that for her. Now you aren’t gonna have me busted for bringing any pot to Rahway are you?”

It was a reference to the way that Warren had dissolved the partnership between Chris and him, the partnership that had begun Rahway. It was a move that forever had tagged Warren with the nickname of The Sheriff. Ron, of course, would never have turned Warren down about anything and he knew it.  He would be forever grateful for what Warren had done for him with teaching, with helping him to get well after Robin, but that didn’t mean that he couldn’t break his balls a bit.

“There’s no need for that,” said Warren.

The “that” was left ambiguous and Ron decided not to pursue it. “I can be there in about an hour.

“We’ll see you then,” said Warren and then the phone clicked dead.

Ron glanced at the clock. It was 7:30 on a school night but he knew that he was going to do it.

Kelly answered the backdoor and smiled brightly as if Ron was one of her best friends. She bent into him and kissed his cheek. Ron felt her breasts press against her his chest and it caused him to twitch in his pants Sometimes he hated his cock. It left him with absolutely no dignity. His eyes watched Kelly’s ass as she led him through the kitchen and down the one step into the sunken living room.

Laureen, April and Warren were seated by the fire. Ron recognized the Brahms Requiem that was playing softly on the stereo. April smiled when he walked in and stood. Ron almost gasped at the sight of her. She had always been thin, but now she was cadaverous and she wore a red checked bandana on her head that promised that there was not much underneath it. She came to him and put her arms around his neck and kissed him. Her body felt like nothing but bones and there was a stale smell on her breath that Ron recognized from Zoe. April had been vomiting. She took his hand and led him to the group after she whispered. “Thank you so much for coming down like this.”

Ron sat on a pillow, keeping his back to the fire. He opened his jacket and took it off and let it slide down in back of him as he reached into one of the pockets and took out a small bag of pot and some rolling papers. He handed them to April, who blushed without color and said, “I don’t know how to do it.”

Warren cackled. “Well, Ron can sure help you with that if not with a lot of other things too.”

Laureen giggled and said, “Warren, you’d better be nice or Kelly won’t sleep with you tonight.”

Kelly giggled and Warren smirked the smiles of someone very sure of himself.

Ron’s eyes danced at Laureen’s quip. He said, “Guess there’s not much that you can hold over me, huh Laureen?”

“That’s just one of her phone calls to Robin away,” said Warren.

Ron smiled. “I don’t think so.” Then he smiled to himself. He really had not felt anything at the mention of her name.

Laureen said, “Well thank god for that. It was becoming tedious.”

Everyone laughed and Ron found that he could laugh as well. He stood and pulled an album cover from the shelf, opened it and then opened the bag of pot and began to roll a joint.  Looking down at the composer he said, “Richard Wagner, do you think he’ll mind?”

“He’s seen a lot worse,” quipped Laureen.

Ron laughed again and looked into her dark eyes. “I really have missed you, he said.

Laureen stiffened as if his statement had reminded her of something uncomfortable.

“I spent the afternoon in the police station,” said Ron. “One of my students was shot to death by his father.”

Everyone was silent as Ron cleaned the pot and rolled the joint. Laureen said, “Well, that was a real conversation stopper.” She got up and moved into the kitchen to get something to drink.

Sitting with the album cover spread open on his lap, Ron rolled joint after joint until there were 10 in a neatly stacked row and the bag was empty. The talk moved from the college to what was happening in New York’s museums. Ron half- listened. Then he looked up and saw that the group was staring at him.

“What?”

“How did you learn to do that so quickly and so well?” said April.

“Lots of practice,” said Ron.

“Too much for his own good,” said Warren.

“Well it’s a lifesaver for me tonight,” said April and lit the joint. She inhaled deeply and passed it to Ron who shook his head no.

“I’ve got to get going,” he said. “I have to be in early.”

“Ron Tuck refused a joint. Will wonders never cease?” said Laureen.

Ron slid his arms back into his jacket and met Laureen’s eyes. They were dark and dancing. He thought for an instant that they were actually quite beautiful. “I was thinking the other day about whether there was ever a woman that I went to visit and called on the phone who I did not also wish to fuck. Yours was the only name that came to my mind.”

Laureen laughed. “I’m not sure whether that’s a compliment or an insult.”

Ron stood up. “I meant it in the most complimentary way.”

“Why did the kid’s father shoot him?” said Warren.

“I don’t know. I only know that I was the last one to see him alive before he was killed.”

He half turned to April. “Anytime I can help you out just give me a call.”

“Which probably means that he wants to fuck you,” laughed Laureen.

 

Chapter 53

“The test on Acts 1 and 2 will consist of twenty significant quotes from the play. You will receive one point for accurately identifying the speaker. One point for explaining any literary devices that are in the quote and you will earn three points for explaining its significance to the story and setting the context in which it was said.”

The groans were loud. Two of the girls flipped their books closed like they were giving up. “How are we supposed to remember every word of the play?” said Barbara. “We aren’t like you. We don’t have it all memorized.”

Ron smiled his best dimpled grin but they weren’t buying it. “Listen,” he said gently, would I ask you to do something that you couldn’t do?”

“Yes,” they responded in a responsorial that Ron thought was too spontaneous to not be heartfelt.

“OK, what impossible things have I asked you do?”

“You want us to memorize this stupid play,” said Connie.

“You make me write until my hand is cramped into a claw, “said Sonia. She accented her compliant by twisting her hand into a claw and holding it up for the class. Everyone, including Ron, laughed.

“Every time I think that I have finally figured out what you want, you announce that you are raising the bar. Sometimes I want to pick up the bar and beat you over the head with it, Mr. Tuck,” said Julie.

There was dead silence. Everyone thought that she had gone over the line. They had never seen Mr. Tuck write a discipline referral but half of them were sure that this was gonna be the first one. The story was that he had never written one and all the girls so wanted that to be the truth.

“Learning is hard,” he said gently. “But you girls are better than you think that you are. Let me show you.” He turned and walked to the book. He seemed to open it at random and said. Who said, “Why do you dress me in borrowed robes?”

“That’s easy,” said Barbara. “Mac said it to the witches when they called him the Thane of Cawdor.”

Ron smiled. He was gonna get them. “And what is the literary device?”

“It’s imagery,” said Rose. “And that other thing.”

Connie said, “Mo’ teef” she said in the funny and exaggerated way that he had taught them to remember it and they all laughed.

“And what is a motif?”

“Repeating something until it gets more important,” said Connie quickly.

Ron closed the book and smiled at them. ”See you know more than you think that you do. This isn’t gonna be hard.”

“Let’s do more,” said Julie, whose plan was to write all of them down.

“Good,” said Ron. “Everyone’s notebook out.”

They sped through the next 10 quotes almost flawlessly. They didn’t really know it but Ron was taking them directly from the test. They knew the stuff cold.

 

Ron was used to the wall of noise and light that slapped him when he entered The French Maid. He made his way to the best available seat and put a $20 on the bar.

“Welcome back, honey,” said the gum cracking bartender.

He grinned. “White wine, please.”

She smiled and gave her hips a little strutting wiggle when she went to get it. He had been there enough times to be clocked by the bartenders. This one wasn’t married and the dancers hadn’t said anything about him trying to tweak a nipple or saying anything really perverse to them when they danced for him.

When he saw Emerald, he felt his heart begin to pound. He had been half looking for her since the day that he had skipped out of The Hitching Post without another word. He was wondering if she would act annoyed with him or whether she would recognize him at all. After all, how many guys had slipped her dollar bills since Ron last saw her? How many guys had come to the next club where she was dancing? How many guys had just left her working without a good-bye or another word?

He didn’t want the answers to any of these questions. He wanted the fantasy of her. He wanted to watch her bend over for him and smile at him from between her legs. He wanted to watch her crawl for him and squint and tell himself that it was Robin crawling and that he was punishing her by making her do this until he was ready to take her back.

She was wearing an outfit that he hadn’t seen before. It was thin and white and he could see the outline of her nipples and the swell of her labial lips and the whisper of the crevice between her cheeks. He sat back and gazed at her. He was pretty sure that she hadn’t noticed or recognized him until she stood right in front of him on the stage and using her hands like blinders on the sides of a horse’s head displayed the entirety of her breasts for him and smiled.

Ron extended his dollar, creased lengthwise and sticking out straight. She grinned and came down from the stage to get it. She opened herself again and pressed the backs of his fingers against her chest as she took it.

“Thank you for coming to see me the other day.”

“I’m sorry that I couldn’t stay longer,” said Ron.

“It’s a crappy place,” she answered. “I don’t think I’ll be dancing there anymore.”

Then still holding the dollar, she climbed back up onto the stage. She turned and spread her legs wide. She took the dollar and scratched it up the back of her left thigh and then the back of her right thigh and then sliding the end of it up and down right along the thinly clad slit of her pussy. Then she stood and turned to face him and folded it in half and slipped it down the front of her sheer G-string. She gave it a pat and moved away. For the rest of the set, Ron could see the outline of it pressed against her. It made him very hard.

When she worked the bar, he gave her another two dollars and said, “That was a very sexy thing that you did before.”

He expected her t say something smart-assed or maybe nothing at all, but instead she said, “I did that just for you.”

When she came out of the dressing room she came over to his chair and said, “I promised a guy over there that I would sit with him, so if you are still here, I’ll see you after my next set.”

Ron’s face registered disappointment and she smiled. He felt a jealous rush and then told himself that he was being ridiculous. He sat back against the bar chair and watched and sipped wine and thought about Zoe. There was something about her that he missed. It was the way that she made him feel handsome.

He had always been told that he was a good-looking guy, but he had never really believed it. Where he had grown up, the standard for “good looking” had been a short thin guy with dark hair and an olive skinned complexion. Ron was none of that. He stood just under six feet tall and was broad shouldered. He had light brown hair that turned shades of blonde in the summertime. He had a round face. Instead of full, sensual lips, his lips were thin. When he wasn’t running he tended to develop a bit of a gut. He didn’t have one now, but that was because he hardly ate two meals a day. He wondered if all self-concepts were formed in childhood.

The girl dancing in front of him was doing pole work. He watched as she held herself upside down on the pole and opened her legs very wide. Ron stared at her pussy. He loved the sight of a woman’s vagina. He loved to touch it, to kiss it, and to fuck it. The way that it closed around him when he entered it was almost indescribable. And then Emerald was standing at his shoulder again.

“I’ve got a few minutes before I have to go back up,” she said.

“Could I see you sometime?” said Ron. “I mean not here, really see just you.”

He felt her stiffen and she looked into his hazel eyes. “Do you really think that would be a good idea?”

“Yes,” said Ron. “I really do. I’ve thought about you a lot. It would be great to be able to sit at a table with you and just talk and eat or drink or something.”

“And then what would you think when you saw me here, bent over for some other guy who was waving money at me?”

“I don’t know.”

“I do. You’d hate it and you’d hate me for doing it even though it’s my job.”

“I don’t think that I would.”

“I know that you would. I do much better as a fantasy than I do as a girlfriend.”

“I’ve had people say that about me too,” said Ron. “That I’m not real and that I can’t be a real person.”

“You’re real. You’re too real.” She slid off the stool that was next to Ron. “I’ve got to dance. “I think that you should just see me here and be nice to me and then I can be nice to you too and nothing will get complicated.”

When she walked away Ron could not help but stare at her ass and way that the bottom parts of her cheeks jiggled. “Maybe I like things complicated,” he said to himself.

 

 

Chapter 51

 

The Superintendent’s office was wood paneled and had an Indian Design carpet over the institutional carpeting that lined all the offices. Ron had thought of calling Quimpy before the meeting but decided against it. Things between them were not the same since Zoe. Ron had left work at the bell for one of the first times that he could remember. He had cancelled his appointment with Dennis Mooney and driven straight up to the school. He managed to get there by 3:15 and was proud of himself.

There was a large mahogany desk in the middle of the room, a brown leather couch against one of the walls and three leather backed chairs arranged in front of the desk. There was a portrait on the wall over the Superintendent’s head of John F Kennedy.

Bob O’Neil was a large man with prematurely white hair and a red nose. He did not stand when Ron and Charlie came into the room and at first he did not speak. Quimpy was sitting on the couch with one leg crossed over his knee and his arm extended along the back of the couch. There was a yellow legal pad on his lap and a pen in his hand. Ron blinked for a second. The appearance that Quimpy made here was so much different than the one that he made at his apartment or at the bowling alley.

Charlie ushered Ron to the middle seat and sat on the window side of him. Quimpy did not stand up and fill in the other seat and he did not greet Ron.

“Alright Charlie, how did all this mess start and what is our involvement?”

“None that I can see,” said Charlie. “Everybody here knows the story with the kid. No sense of going over that again. Ron here had been tutoring him for about a month.”

O’Neil turned his gaze to Ron. “Kid ever talk to you about his father?”

“Not directly,” said Ron. “He talked to me about feeling like a weirdo and not wanting to ever go back to the school and not wanting to ever go out of his house.”

O’Neil gave no sign as to whether Ron’s answer had been satisfactory. “Was the mother always there when you met the kid?”

“She was always in the house. She never came down into the basement, which is where we worked. We always had a brief conversation before I left.”

“What about?” said O’Neil.

“Just how Jim was doing. Lately she asked about my mom. I had to cancel an appointment when my mom had a heart attack and she was angry about the cancellation until she found out why.”

Ron knew that it was the first time Quimpy had heard about his mom. He saw it register on his face. They had been friends of sorts with him bringing back blankets from Mexico that his mother had bought, and they had talked about selling them from her ceramics shop and making a good profit.

O’Neil just moved to the next question. “Did she ever mention her husband?”

“No, never.”

“Did she ever mention the school at all?”

“Not really.”

“Don’t give me not really,” said O’Neil. “Did she mention the school or not?”

Ron looked into Bob O’Neil’s eyes and thought a moment and it came to him that this was only about the school’s exposure. Should the school have known anything? Had he been told anything that he should have relayed to the school? “I don’t recall her ever mentioning the school.”

O’Neil looked over at Quimpy and smiled. “You said this one would understand.”

Charlie broke in. “It’s not that we don’t give a shit about James Devin” he said to Ron, “but there’s nothing that we can do for him now and this is a big story in the papers.”

O’Neil pointed his finger at Ron. “Which you aren’t talking to. In fact you aren’t talking to anyone outside this room other than the cops. After your interview with the police,” O’Neil looked at Charlie and then at Quimpy, “which one of you should he call?”

“He can call me,” said Quimpy. “Charlie, you’re busy tonight right?”

Charlie nodded.  “Yeah, we can talk in the morning.”

“Alright,” said O’Neil.  “Call him,” pointing at Quimpy. Keep your answers short and to the point. Don’t offer any information that might be considered personal about James Devin and certainly nothing that you might have been told about his father. If you are uncomfortable for any reason, conclude the interview and tell the police that you would like to have the school’s attorney with you when you resume.”

“Why would I need a lawyer?” said Ron. He felt color drain from his face. His heart began beating faster. He wondered if there was something else about this that he wasn’t being told.

“I have no fucking idea,” said Bob O’Neil. “Did you ever talk to anyone about James Devin?”

“Only Charlie and Quimpy.” Ron decided that mentioning his mother would not make them happy and would serve no useful purpose.

“OK,” said O’Neil. “Anyone have any questions?”

Quimpy and Charlie shook their heads. Ron was silent but he wanted to ask questions. He would wait until he talked with Quimpy. He looked at Quimpy. “Should I call you tonight?”

“Yeah,” said Quimpy. “You still have the number, right?”

Ron nodded.

 

The police station was smaller than he expected it to be. He didn’t know that it was one of five satellite stations they were at the far ends of the city with the main station centrally located. Ron was ushered to the shared desk of Detectives Humbolt and Garvey.

“Thanks for coming in,” Ned Garvey.

Ron nodded. He didn’t realize that he had a choice.

“What exactly was your relationship to the Devin family?” said Garvey.

Humbolt sat off to his partner’s right with a pad and a pencil. Garvey did not take his eyes off of the interviewee. Ron instantly wondered if they knew that he smoked pot. He could not help himself. He felt his chest tighten a little bit and then he said, “I’m James Devlin’s tutor.”

“Did they hire you?”

“No, I was assigned by the school district to provide bedside instruction.”

Humbolt’s eyebrows went up as he wrote. “And what exactly is bedside,” he emphasized the word, “instruction?” said Garvey.

“When a student is going to miss more than two weeks of school, he is assigned a home instructor.”

“Who assigned you?”

“Charlie Rothstein.”

“And who is Charlie Rothstein?”

“He’s the school psychologist.”

Humbolt wrote furiously and after each answer Garvey paused to make sure that his partner was getting everything. “Why wasn’t James Devin in school?”

“My understanding was that he was school phobic,” said Ron. “But I think he generally didn’t leave his house at all.”

“And why was that?” said Garvey.

Ron’s head started to whirl. What should he say? “He and I didn’t talk about that.”

“Did you talk about it with anyone else?” said Garvey.

Ron scolded himself. He should not have said anything about him not leaving the house. He heard O’Neil’s voice in his head saying keep your answers short. Don’t volunteer anything.  Instantly his mind flashed on Jackie Gleason from the Honeymooners wailing, “I’m a blabbermouth. A big blabbermouth.”

“When I was assigned, I was told that he had family issues and that he was going to be with me for the rest of the year and that the school was hoping to get him counseling.”

He was fucked.  He knew it. Counseling for what would have naturally been the next question and Ron almost started to answer it figuring fuck them why should he get himself in trouble over this.

But Garvey said, “OK, let’s get to the day of the shooting. What time did you arrive?”

“About 3:30.”

“Was that your normal arrival time?”

“Yes.”

“And how long were you scheduled to stay?”

“Until 5:30.”

The Detectives exchanged a look. Garvey said, “Do you remember whether there was a car in the driveway?”

Ron closed his eyes and tried to picture it. He saw himself park on the street in front and walk up to the side of the house through the driveway. There was no car. “No, I remember there was no car because I walked up the driveway to the side door.”

“Why didn’t you use the front door?”

“The side door was closest to the basement and that was where James was.”

“How did you know that he was in the basement?”

“That’s where he always was. That’s where we worked.”

“Who answered the door?”

“James did.”

“Did he look unusual in any way?”

“What do you mean?” said Ron. His mind flashed on the black toenails.

“Anything out of the ordinary?”

Ron shrugged. “Not that I noticed.

“Was Mrs. Devin there?”

“Yes, she was in the kitchen. She called down to me.”

“Do you remember what she was wearing?

“I didn’t actually see her. I heard her voice.”

“Was Mr. Devin there?”

“I never met Mr. Devin. I don’t think that he lived there.”

Ron almost bit his lip when he added that. Gleason again moaning, “A big blabbermouth!”

Garvey leaned forward. “Why didn’t he live there?”

“I don’t know.”

“How did you know that he didn’t live there?”

“James told me.”

“But he didn’t say why?”

“No, he just said that his father didn’t live there anymore.”

“And you never met Mr. Devin?”

“No,” Ron could feel himself sweating now. He thought Jesus if I had actually done anything wrong, I’d be confessing.

“Did you ever talk to him on the phone?”

“No.”

“And you said that you stayed until 5:30?”

“I finished up a little early, maybe 5:15.”

“And then you left?”

“Yes.”

“Did you see, Mrs. Devin before you left”

“No and that was unusual. Usually she wanted to know how James was doing and asked me to talk with her before I left, but that day when I called up that I was leaving there was no answer, so I just left.”

The two detectives looked at each other and nodded.  “Thanks for coming in Ron. If we have any other questions, we will need your name address and phone number so that we can contact you.”

Ron felt queasy giving them the address but he didn’t have a choice and he reminded himself that he hadn’t done anything wrong. He felt a rush of relief when he got back into the car. He wondered if he had looked nervous.

 

“Quimpy, it’s Ron.”

“Hey man, what’s happening?”

“I just got home from the police station.”

“Yeah?”

“I think it went well. I was nervous a few times but they didn’t ask the really hard questions.”

“What really hard questions? You didn’t shoot them did you?”

Ron felt slapped in the face. “No, but they didn’t ask what I had been told about Devin’s father or who told me. That seemed to be what O’Neil was worried about.”

“Yeah, there were privacy issues. Charlie got his ass chewed out for sharing what he had shared with you, but as long as you got through it without having to bring that shit up, everything is cool.”

“Do you need the chapter and verse of what they did ask?”

“Nah, they just asked who was there, what did they say, what did they look like, did you notice anything, right?”

“That was pretty much it.”

“Who interviewed you?”

“Two cops, one named Humbolt, the other Garvey.”

“Yeah Humbolt is a dumb shit but Garvey is a prick. Did they tell you anything?”

“Not a damn thing.”

“They are in out of their league with this. My bet is that it gets turned over to the county prosecutor before the week is out, but I don’t think anyone is going to need to talk to you again.”

Ron felt a surge of relief at those words. “OK, then I can just move on and forget about it?”

“Pretty much.  You’re golden with Bob for not fucking this up. I’d say that you have a job for as long as you want it.”

“Does he know about my certification issues?”

There was a pause. Then Quimpy said slowly. “There are no issues, right?”

“Right.”

“You hear from Zoe?”

Ron felt his whole body stiffen again.  Quimpy had some fucking nerve even bringing her name up. “Since when?”

There was kind of a stumbling stammer on the other end of the phone. “You know, since she left.”

“She’s called a couple of times.”

Again there was silence.  Ron wanted to say something cutting but he felt a loyalty to Quimpy and the way that Quimpy had stuck his neck out to help him get the job. He didn’t believe that it should have extended to him fucking Zoe but there was really nothing more to be said about that.

“Well man, catch you through the week.”

“Yeah,” said Ron. “Absolutely.” He had no intention of having Quimpy catch him ever again.

Chapter 50

“George came to see me.”

Marjorie was sitting up in bed. She was able to shower now and she had done combed in hair the way that she liked it and she was wearing her own pajamas.

“That took long enough,” said Ron.

“He wants to come back home. He said that he misses being there and that he’s given up the woman.”

“What happened? She get sick?”

Marjorie’s face looked shocked. “How did you know?”

Ron felt his fists tighten. “You’ve got to be kidding. I was just being sarcastic.”

“Ronald what am I supposed to do? It’s his home and his money. He works very hard.”

Looking at his mother tenderly, Ron saw that she was trying to make the very best of things. She was stuck and feeling more vulnerable that perhaps she had ever felt in her life. Harry was good for a visit or two but he had made his own life and this was Marjorie’s life. “Whatever you want to do, Mom. I’ll be as supportive as I can be.”

Marjorie looked at her son and Ron realized that something that he did not like was coming. She had that look. He had seen it before and he recognized it. “He wants you to apologize to him.”

“For what?”

“I don’t know,” she said shaking her head. “I guess the two of you argued after I got sick.”

Ron was literally speechless. He didn’t want to upset her. He wanted her to get well. He didn’t want to live with her. That was a trap from which he would never be able to escape. “OK, let me think about it,” was all that he finally could manage.

 

When he got home, he felt dejected and exhausted. He had wanted to ask his mother if George had apologized to her. He had wanted to flat refuse to do anything but kick George in the balls the next time that he saw him. None of that would have been productive. Dr. Gutberg had explained that stress was one of Marjorie’s biggest dangers and Ron was determined not to up the stress level. Maybe he would take the approach that George took. He would do nothing and buy time. It was going to be at least two weeks until his mother came back home. He at least had that long to figure out what to do. Inwardly, Ron shrugged to himself. Maybe he should just say he was sorry. They would both know that he didn’t mean it. What difference would it make? Why did he so rebel at the thought of it?

The phone rang. Charlie Rothstein’s voice was gravelly.

“Ronnie, Charlie Rothstein.  What’s the soonest that you can get up to my office tomorrow?”

“What’s wrong Charlie?”

“The Devin family is dead. Seems the father came home, shot the mother, shot the kid and then shot himself.”

“Holy Shit!”

“You were there yesterday, right?”

“Yeah late afternoon, let me check.” Ron opened his book bag turned to his log sheet. “In the afternoon from 3:30 to a little after 5pm.”

“That was lucky,” said Rothstein. “You missed the old man by less than an hour. Anyway, the cops want to talk to you. Looks like you were the last person to see them alive.”

“Fuck!” said Ron.

“It’s even more fucked up than that. I’ll tell you more tomorrow. The Superintendent wants to meet with you and me and Quimpy before you go to see the cops.”

Ron felt an instant of panic. “Ok.”

“You aren’t in any trouble. Don’t be worried. The Sup just wants to have an idea of the big picture before you talk to the cops. Any way that you could make it a little earlier?”

“I’ll do my best,” said Ron.

“Well we’ll be waiting on you so the sooner that you can get here the better. Good night kid.”

 

 

 

 

Chapter 49

 

On Monday after noon the staff gathered in one of the classrooms for their first getting to know you meeting with Sister Donna Maria.  Ron got there a little late because at first he went to the convent but when no one answered the door he made his way back to the high school main office. He saw a hand written sign on the principal’s office that directed him to where the faculty meeting was being held. Ron wondered why the new principal hadn’t come over the PA to either introduce herself to the students that day or to tell the faculty where the meeting was going to be. He had spent a good part of the day telling students that he didn’t know when they asked him questions about what the new principal was like. When he arrived at the classroom, he saw that all of the nuns were seated on one side of the room and the lay teachers were on the other side of the room. Ron slid into desk towards the back of the room. Sister Vincent Salvatore turned around to him and held up a 4”by6” index card that had her name written on it and which had been creased down the middle so that it would stand up.  “We have assigned seats,” she said happily.

Lifting his head, Ron saw that there was an index card on an empty desk in the first row, on the lay faculty’s side of the room and moved towards it. Sure enough, there was his name printed in block letters: Mr. Ronald Tuck, 2^nd year, English. He slid down into the chair and looked up at the nun who was standing with her eyes closed and swaying slightly back and forth in front of the room. Ron saw that her lips were silently moving.

The physical appearance that she made could not have been more different from Irene Emanuel. Irene was tall and stately. Donna Maria was short and plump. Irene Emanuel moved with a flowing grace. Donna Maria shuffled. Irene Emanuel’s skin was very white and it seemed to Ron almost powdered. Donna Maria had a reddish splotches at her cheeks and on her forehead.

As the faculty watched, Donna Maria lifted her crucifix from her chest and pressed it into her splotchy forehead as her eyes remained closed and she continued to silently mumble. Ron looked at her in bewilderment and then his eyes sought out Bernadette who was staring daggers at her new principal. When she felt Ron’s eyes on her she gave him a quick eye roll and went back to her stare.

“I want to thank the Lord Jesus, the blessed Mother, our Holy Father, all of the saints and those dedicated souls in heaven who have brought me to be with you.” Ron felt his stomach begin to flip. “When I first learned of my mission here, I fell right to my knees and prayed that I would be worthy of the honor that was being bestowed upon me, an honor and a challenge to help bring the young ladies of this parish closer to God. To help keep them turned away from the devil’s temptations in this world and to perhaps even send the most worthy to the mother house as novitiates.” Ron felt his stomach flip again. What the hell was she talking about?

“I have prayed over the weekend so that I could appear here confident of my choices.”  Silently, Ron wondered if perhaps someone else could have prayed for her to have gotten into some debilitating and non-fatal accident on the way there. “As you can see, I have assigned each of you a seat and given you a name card. Please remember to bring your name cards to each of our faculty meetings. We will have those meetings in a designated classroom every two weeks for the remainder of the year, so that I can become more familiar with each of you and the good work that you are doing. The host teacher will be told a couple of days in advance so that she can have her classroom prepared for visitors. That way,” she clapped her hands together with enthusiasm, “we can all see the pretty decorations that you have hung up and perhaps get ideas from each other. The convent is the home and refuge of the sisters and it did not seem right to me to continue to have the faculty meetings there. However, on special occasions, I am hopeful that we can all meet and pray together in the convent.” Ron took a mental snapshot of his room. Except for the Lincoln portrait and a skeleton that he had hung at his door at Halloween and never taken down, there were no decorations.

Then she stopped suddenly. “Does anyone have a question?”

Ron wondered what anyone could possibly ask about other than if she was out of her fucking mind. He looked around and to his shock there were two hands in the air. Vincent Salvatore said, “I would just like to say how happy we are to have you here and to ask if perhaps I could possibly help choosing the rooms for the meetings?”

Donna Maria clasped her hands at the side of her left ear and said, “Of course you can help, Sister. I am going to need everyone’s help.”

Ron was almost shocked to see that Doris had her hand in the air. “I’d just like to volunteer to bake some cookies for the next meeting.” His mouth fell open.

“Of course you can and I hope that others volunteer for other meetings.”

Now Ron was seriously nauseous. He put his head down and closed his eyes. Donna Maria saw this gesture and assumed that Ron was praying.  She moved towards him with a shuffling burst of evangelic fervor and places fingertip on his desk. “I ask for guidance all day long as well, Mr. Ron.”

Ron looked up into her eyes and said slowly and he hoped without obvious sarcasm, “I’m sure that you do, Sister Donna.”

She smiled and said, “Sister Donna Maria, please.”

Then she shuffled back and said, “For now, everything else will stay as it is. Change will come slowly but it will surely come.”

 

As they left the classroom, Ron felt a hand on his shoulder. Sister Rita Julia smiled and said, “Ron, can we walk together?”

“Of course, Sister.”

“Irene Emanuel thought the world of you Ron and told more than once that you had the makings of a great teacher. At first I disagreed with her and thought that you were misplaced, but I have come to see that she was right. Sister Donna Maria has a good heart. Give her a chance to show it to you.”

“I’ll try, Sister.”

“I know that you spoke to Irene Emanuel often about teaching. Although we have not been close, I’d like to tell you that my door is always open to you.”

“Thank you, Sister. I would like to get to know you better.”

“Sister Donna Maria has asked me to take her place on the Faculty Council for the rest of this year, so I am sure that we will, Ron.”

 

The next day Sister Donna Marie appeared with a bag of Cheese Doodles.  She made her way along the corridor offering a Cheese Doodle to each of the girls who passed her in the hallway. For each Doodle that she gave out she also ate one. For those that lingered, there were what Sister Donna Marie called a golden moment where they clasped hands and she crushed the Doodle bag between them and they closed their eyes together and gave silent praise to the Lord and to the Virgin. Some of the girls watched agape. Others seemed to enjoy the contact and ate their Cheese Doodle like a host.

Unfortunately, Sister Donna Marie also had the habit of kissing the girl tenderly on the cheek after they concluded their worshipful reverie and this left a slight orange mark from the Cheese Doodle. By noontime, Ron’s sophomores pointed out the girls who had been “Doodled” by Sister Donna Mary, forever to be known among them now as Sister Cheesy.

In the hall at the end of the day, Bernadette said to Ron in her side-mouth way of speaking that she always used with him now. “It’s going to become a circus here.”

“Let’s just make sure they don’t put us in the cages,” said Ron.