Alice, part three
Sep 24 '08
The Bottom Line Copyright 2008 David MacDonald
Thomas was still resting on the bed, his mind wading in the shallow pool of dreams, and so barely noticed Alice as she got out of his bed. He opened his eyes to see her pulling up her blue panties.
“You don’t need to rush....” he mumbled.
“I have to go, my dear,” she said. “Still have a pile of tests to correct.”
“On a Saturday night?” he yawned.
“Best time to do it. I start thinking about all the kids who are wasting their time tonight loitering in malls and restaurant parking lots instead of studying. It reflects in the marks,” she grinned.
“You’re cruel,” he said. A couple of years ago, he would have meant what he said. But now, he was just bantering with her, as if the two of them were longtime friends. “No wonder all the parents get mad at you.”
“That... never happened very often....” Thomas was one of her few exceptions. “But.... it doesn’t mean anything, Thomas. “We all have the right to get upset if we feel something isn’t right...”
Thomas still felt too much of a physical attraction to reflect on the past. That was a different time, a different situation, a different woman, someone who was her daughter’s teacher, not his lover.
Alice was fully dressed now, and leaned over to kiss her new lover good night. “You don’t have to lead me out; I’ll let you get some sleep.”
“What time is it?”
㥶 pm..... I must have really worn you out.”
“You must have.... I suppose I would have fallen asleep on the couch with the baseball game if you hadn’t arrived....”
“Nice to know I was of help....” Alice laughed as she started to walk out of the room.
“Good luck with those tests.....”
But Alice did not truly have any plans to correct tests.
As she put her shoes on, she saw the photos on the wall. The photos were of Thomas’s daughter, Brittany, at different stages in her life. One was her as a seven-year old, running through a sprinkler as if it were the only delight one ever needed in life. Another was her graduation photo from junior high. Another was clearly meant to be a family portrait, even though there were only two figures - her and her dad. It was like his ex-wife - Brittany’s mom - didn’t exist.
Alice had no such photos on her wall. She had no kids, never had a husband. She didn’t have the kind of memories her new lover had. She didn’t have any emotional appreciation of creating and raising a family.
And now here she was, a parasite devouring whatever scraps she could out of this broken marriage for her own pleasure....
But she didn’t want to think that way. She wanted to focus on the sounds her feet made as they stepped along the gritty gravel lane on their way to the car, parked on the other side of the street.
The sky was an inky black, and what she thought was a suitable cover for her secret affairs. The neighbours may be able to hear footsteps, see the outline of a car, hear the engine as the wheels turned and the car drove away, but they could never finger her specifically for the crime.
But would these people really care about that strange silhouette emerging from their neighbour’s house? She didn’t want to take a chance, and become the hot topic of discussion in this small town. Charlottetown had 50,000 people, but Prince Edward Island had that reputation as being a home for many idle gossipers, and there was no doubt in Alice’s guilty conscience of the potential for gossip.
She didn’t want to be the subject - or the object - of conversations she had no control over. She didn’t want to be known as “the new girlfriend,” as the one who stuck herself into a broken home.
Then she bristled underneath her skin when she realized there was a streetlamp nearby that did illuminate, if rather dimly, her car. Any nosy soul would have some idea of the woman’s face, if they watched closely enough.
And then Alice chuckled to herself and the paranoia she exhibited.
Why didn’t she just tell him, hey, I’ll leave before Brittany comes home, I just don’t want to be in the way. He would have understood.
She sat in her car and turned the ignition. As she pulled out onto the street and onto the path to home, she turned up the volume of her stereo and the classical music that came from it.
The raging violins were something she somehow had an affinity for. Each note felt both soothing and foreboding to her ears, and it was somehow pleasing even as it quietly raised her anxiety level. She wanted the sounds to continue, she didn’t want the aural pleasure to stop.
As she exited the residential area and spilled onto the highway along with the other cars, Alice felt oddly relaxed. At least she did until she hit an unexpected pothole.
The jutting sounds of the strings against the bow became distorted, artificially twisted into a vicious distraction. Alice grit her teeth before turning off the car stereo, no longer feeling wonderfully anxious, but instead intensely annoyed.
*
The summer holiday was fast approaching, and everyone inside the walls of the school anticipated the end of the routine and the beginning of a new, possibly better routine. The students were thinking about being able to hang out every day, go to the beach - and also finding a job that would pay them a few bucks so they could afford to do the hanging out and the days at the beach.
The teachers also yearned for a change. Vacation time with their families, a time away from the stress of trying to corral dozens of students each day. After a year of trying to enhance young minds, the educators wanted to give their own mind a rest for a while.
Alice didn’t have a family to haul around for summer vacation, or indeed any other time of year. Teaching was what filled her time, and her mind, 10 months of the year.
Those summers that others were so excited over always felt hollow to her. They were shells she had no choice but to fill, and always with a hint of desperation deep within her subconscious. It was like a test she herself would have to write, without being allowed to study the material.
On the other hand, the occasionally illegible scrawls embedded in the test papers Alice had been correcting for the past 30 minutes were the writings of those who were only marking time until their real lives began, outside the walls of this building. Even the ones written by the quality students, of which there were a fair number, were written in the spirit of wanting to get it over with.
Alice heard a knocking on the door, and looked up to see Nancy. “Hello, Mrs Prouse,” Nancy teased.
“Why hello, sunshine!” Alice said. “You’re very joyful today.”
“I have to be, dear. It’s June - the name of the month itself feels summery and bright. I’d be a real spoilsport if I came in here trying to form a black cloud and rain on everyone..... so how are those tests turning out?”
“What you’d expect. Some good ones buried within the pile of illegible ones,” Alice joked, as she flipped the page of one particular test. “Was our handwriting this atrocious when we went to school?”
“I know it wasn’t that bad at our school. We didn’t have text messaging back then to disinterest us from the English language.”
“Neither did our school. Strange, isn’t it?” Alice smiled. “Actually, I’m surprised I haven’t fallen to their level. I bought a laptop recently and I’ve been using the Internet quite frequently. But I suppose I overcompensate by only searching for ponderous dissertations on important subjects!”
“Oh, so the writers you read *don’t* use ‘LOL’ in the course of a sentence?” Nancy teased. “You might as well not fight it. Computers are going to be the death of the intelligent being. After a few decades we won’t even notice how stupid we are.”
Alice laughed. “Thanks for your optimism. Are you telling me there will be a day where I’ll not understand Alexander Pope or Jonathan Swift....?”
“Maybe if you’re from the 17th century or whatever era it is you come from, stranger,” Nancy said. “I, on the other hand, just want the capability to understand a few simple words of Italian for the trip.”
“Looking forward to your vacation,” Alice said.
“You bet. Once the last bell of the year rings, I’ll be grabbing my swimsuit and searching for some wonderful Mediterranean waves. How about you... any summer plans?”
“Well... I had thought I’d maybe.... uh, fly to Montreal. Take in some great shows, museums, all that stuff. We’ll see how that goes....”
“Awesome - going with anyone special?” Nancy asked. Great, at least Nancy was convinced by that story, Alice thought, although she didn’t think Nancy would want to hear the true story, about this one particular man, who may or may not even be interested in Montreal anyway.
“No, Nancy,” she said with a feigned sadness. “I correct essays on my own, and I go to trips alone.”
“Montreal is a great city. You’d probably meet all sorts of people there; no big deal.”
“Possibly,” Alice said. Besides, if her affair flopped, Montreal may be a good back-up.
“Yea.... just think, you might meet some great French man,” Nancy teased. “Wait... can you sing?”
“No... why?” Alice laughed, confused.
“Well.... maybe you’ll meet some rich middle-aged music producer who will take you under his wing and bring out your natural talent. And then just when you’ve become a sensation - you’ll be so hypnotized by the glamour and the attention that you’ll fall for any perverted thing he wanted from you.....”
“Such as a marriage proposal, perhaps,” Alice asked.
“Something like that.....” Nancy said. “Not the first time that’s happened in the province of Quebec.”
“But I’d be too old for him. I’d only be ten years younger than he is,” Alice said. “It wouldn’t work out. They want to be a father figure to some nubile teenager until it’s legal for them to reveal their real intentions.”
Nancy howled with laughter. “Wow, we’re awful. We’re going to hell, aren’t we?”
“Won’t have to read any badly-written tests there,” Alice said.
“That’s the problem. That may be what hell is. Anyway, got to get to my next class.”
So that was Nancy. Preparing to go on a vacation to a wonderful European country, with her husband and children. That seemed more like something Alice would enjoy doing. But she didn’t have the money, or the family, or the company, to do that. And she couldn’t just fly to Europe by herself. Or could she?
She remained seated as the students for her next class began to trickle in. There were some good students here, and a few others who tried their best. In some ways she was happy with that, but she wanted not to feel useless. She wanted to show these young people that there was a reason to learn. School isn’t just a necessary burden.
It was another 10 minutes before one particular student arrived, late. Alice turned her head to see Susan enter the room. Her body seemed to hover across the floor like a ghost hoping to pass by unnoticed.
“Hello Susan,” her voice sardonic. “Glad you could join us today.”
The teenager wore a sweater with sleeves that covered her hands, with only the tips of her fingers coming out for air. It was as if she couldn’t stand the touch of the air against her skin. Susan didn’t speak a world of reply as she walked over to her empty desk.
“Nice to see you well-dressed for the June weather at least,” Alice said.
“Thank you,” Susan mumbled as she slumped into her chair in such a way that she seemed ready to take a nap and didn’t give a sh*t what anyone thought. She pulled out her book from underneath her desk - she obviously neglected to take it home with her and didn’t work on any assignments.
Alice watched as the student kept her wrists hidden inside her sweltering cocoon. She could still see only Susan’s fingertips, awkwardly and slowly opening the book to whatever page would come up. Alice wondered if Susan was feeling embarrassed.
After the class was over and the students began filing out of the room, Alice began to wipe the blackboard. Susan had been the last one to make the attempt to leave, but Alice turned her head and regarded her. She called the student’s name, without the sarcasm of earlier.
Susan faced her teacher, with a blank slate across her face that chilled Alice for some reason. “Susan, aren’t you awfully warm with that sweater on? It’s supposed to be 24 degrees today - you must be dehydrated!”
“I’ll be fine,” Susan said, with a smile that looked more like a sneer, as in, leave me alone so I can enjoy my suffering.
“I know. You’re afraid it’s going to snow unexpectedly, right? Typical ever-changing Island weather....” Alice had a feeling she wasn’t going to get her answers.
Susan merely stood for a moment, her arms crossed. “Thanks... thanks for caring,” she said, before walking out of the room, holding herself as if she were cold. “I gotta get to next class...” She said that even though she didn’t seem as if she would be any better prepared for that one.
Alice would have asked her what her plans were for the summer, but she determined Susan would not have known the answer to that question. The student was walking out into a hallway scattered with people who were already wearing the proper summer attire, who already knew they would be relaxing in some backyard or any other place where they could get away with drinking liquids they were not yet legally permitted to possess. But Susan didn’t seem as if she had thought that far ahead ...
*
Alice had been feeling somber for much of the day. Every year she had witnessed students exhibiting some strange and oddly unsettling behaviours, and once wondered whether she and her friends were like this in their youth. She hadn’t recalled much of that sort of thing, but then again teenagers saw themselves differently than how the world saw them. She hadn’t observed it, she was living it.
And there was something very unsettling about Susan. The sweater, the hiding of her arms and fingers as if the air were like glass slicing into her flesh and she had to protect herself.
Alice gathered up her belongings and left the classroom later in the afternoon. She didn’t have to teach the last period of class today and meant to get the chance to rest her soul for a while. But she then heard the outlines of a conversation as she approached the teachers’ lounge, and so stepped inside. Nancy, Bob and Shirley were sitting around the table near the wall, eating was was left over from the dinner they had brought to work.
“Still eating! So that’s why we’ve been complaining about gaining weight!” teased Alice as she sat on one of the empty chairs.
Nancy and Shirley were picking from a Tupperware dish of baby carrots. “Hey, this is quality - we’re not supposed to be gaining weight from this,” said Nancy.
“You’d still get fat if you ate too many carrots,” reasoned Shirley, as she crushed a carrot with her teeth.
Bob was leaning back on his chair, its plastic back tapping the concrete wall. “Any plans for the summer, Alice?”
“No... just taking it as it comes...”
“Not firm on Montreal, are you?” Nancy said through mauled carrot. “It’s not like you have a husband or kids to worry about. She really needs to cut loose, go wild, don’t you think, guys?”
Shirley laughed. “You can’t be like us, Alice. Dragging children around all day, all summer, hoping their calmer moments will outbalance their impatient moments.”
“Then we come back here for the rest of the year to deal with everyone else’s children,” said Bob. “You actually get two months off from that, Alice.”
Alice laughed as she put her head in her hand, shaking it after hearing the cynicism that came from years of teaching. “I’m sure you love your children very much.”
“Oh we do.... we’re just joking,” Nancy said, as if that statement ought to have been obvious. “But we’re not joking about you. Where’s your wild spirit? You’re 42 years old... you’re at the prime of your life. You gotta take what you can get... because after a few years, it’s all downhill.”
Little did they know what Alice had been searching for these days. “You’re right, Nancy. My years of teaching hasn’t fulfilled me. Maybe I ought to seduce that lecherous music producer we talked about earlier. Or maybe go on Canadian Idol. I’m sure the young voters will go for a 42-year old with gray in her short, short hair and glasses who would try to set Renaissance poetry to music.”
“Oh come on now, Alice. You’re setting your sights way too low!” Nancy joked.
Nancy walked with Alice moments later as the two of them went outside. “Are things okay?” Nancy asked.
Alice sighed. “No.... one of the students ... is acting strange. Susan in my English class - she came to class today where a hooded sweater.”
“My God she must be sweating to death. I’m sure that sort of dehydration doesn’t help with the ol’ brain function there... maybe she has no idea she’s even wearing the sweater, or that she’s even in school!”
“Maybe.... I don’t know what she was trying to prove. Rebelling against weather?”
“Some kids do that. If it’s something, it’s something to rise up against. They’ll grow out of it. We all do.”
“Were we like that when we were teenagers?” Alice asked.
“I’m sure we were. You must have been. You never grew out of it. You cut your hair like few women I know. You read and studied poetry in your youth.”
“So did many other English majors.”
“Well,” Nancy smirked. “In my book, you’re different. But different can be good.”
“I suppose.... what do you think Susan’s problem is?”
“Ah, you know as much as I do. Sometimes it’s the home life. Sometimes they are having problems with friends over the most trivial things. And sometimes it’s just the hormones.....”
“What should I do?”
“Just... do what you feel is right,” Nancy said. “You shouldn’t overexert yourself though... not if it ends up being as frivolous as fighting back against summer.”
Alice was standing by the side of her car. “But what if it isn’t?”
“You know what to do. The guidance counselor. The principal. They have a right to know.... ,” Nancy said. “Sometimes I feel that in this profession, we find out that we can’t always steer the students in the right direction. Sometimes we’re just the innocent bystanders caught in the traffic....”
“And trying not to get run over....”
“Who knows.... tomorrow she may be a whole new person. I’ll see you later, Alice....”
“Bye.” Alice shut the door and put the key in the ignition.
When she returned to her apartment, she picked up the bottle of wine from the fridge, and poured herself a generous sample. This was not something she normally did at 2:30 in the afternoon. But it felt good right now.
She sat on the couch, her eyes looking toward the education degree framed on the wall. Perhaps it was really her who had been framed, framed into once believing she could make a difference and shape the minds of those who sat at those desks daily.
When she first entered a classroom more than 15 years ago, she wasn’t much older than those she taught. She believed she was dealing with those who were almost her own peers, who would understand and sympathize with her attempts, who would look up to her as a special person with all the answers.
But she no longer feels that way. She’s just like the other teachers, who make cutting jokes about their job and the students they supervise, even as their hearts still bleed from the scarring that occasionally happens when dealing with a wide variety of cases.
She thought Susan was troubled. But that could have easily described herself, or her colleagues who were more concerned about gaining weight from carrots or getting a suntan in Europe. Or herself, who distracted herself by f*cking one of her former student’s own father, and was now drinking wine in the middle of the afternoon. Some role model I am, she thought.
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Member: David Macdonald
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Alice, a story in nine parts, posted on Sept 24, 2008 - http://www.epinions.com/content_5241348228
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