Folie à Deux (24 page)

Our time together is spent going for walks and talking about the same basic things that comprise our text messages. The slight edge of intimacy is missing to save us the agony of confronting the reality that clearly lies ahead. One day, driving her home from school, in the course of conversation, I put my hand out, palm up in the natural gesturing of my speech. As it is outstretched, hanging directly over the top of the stick shift she places her left hand on mine and we interlace our fingers quite ordinarily.

I only glance at her a second as she grins, shy and uncomfortable. Her eyebrows sheepishly arced to ask, “Is this ok?” Without a word, while trying to keep the car on the road I return her inquisitive glance with a look of reassurance, clear my throat and continue the pointless conversation.

She texts absent any discernible segue, “Are you a good kisser?”

In tune with the already flirtatious environment I have created my reply is, “I guess you’ll have to find out for yourself.”

My response solicits the exact ruse for which I was striving. It opens up a conversation about when we will kiss and how long before we can. She plays right along, “So what are you doing tonight because I’m free? LOL.”

We continue with no resolution other than, “I think we’ll know when the time is right,” assuming some nebulous higher power will guide us. My surrender to a predestined faith makes me sound not only sage but also non-committal. Now that the wheels have been set in motion I can make it happen.

I tell Talia I have a bike race two weeks in advance so that she can clear it with her mother but I know it’s going to take more juggling for me. Firstly, the race is my son’s birthday and we already have a party planned. I also have to call a friend with whom I teach because he races too and I need to avoid an uncomfortable situation when we see one another. Dana ok’s my absence because I’ll be back in time for the party. I call a colleague, John, who also races and give him the basic run down of how Natalia has latched onto me because of her problems – someone else who buys my bullshit. Once I have all of my obstacles hurdled I tell Talia to clear her Saturday morning which thrills her.

I pick her up just after six a.m. and we drive to breakfast. Before we leave her street she asks, “Can I put on my iPod? I made a playlist to commemorate the occasion.”

The first song that comes on is “First Date” by Blink-182. She looks at me and smiles, proud of her creativity. I miss some of the songs while we are talking but comment on the ones I hear. When I recognize, “Come a Little Bit Closer” by Jay Black and the Americans and “Kind and Generous” by Natalie Merchant I tell her, “Oh I love this song.”

When the diner comes into sight my heart races. I think to myself, “I should not be here with her,” but I push through. I put the car in neutral, apply the parking brake and ask, “Will you wait here a second so I can get something out of the back?”

I fumble around the trunk as though looking for something but I’m really trying to flush the last butterflies from my stomach.
When I’m done I close the back hatch, walk to the passenger side and open her door. She steps out and begins to walk toward the restaurant, before she reaches the end of the car I take her arm.

The look of confusion on her face makes my heart hurt. The misperception disappears almost instantly when she realizes what is happening. As a nervous smile forms on the edges of her lips, I lean in and kiss her with enough conviction so she knows I’m not afraid, yet not too forceful. It’s a long kiss and once we begin I’m anxious to see her reaction. My gut tells me she’ll pull away, to the contrary, she leans closer.

Her lips are soft and her tongue seems small, reminding me of her age. That thought is rushed from my mind when I recognize the mint toothpaste she used this morning. Her tongue moves slowly in the space between our mouths. This feels wrong but good simultaneously. I keep my eyes closed, afraid of watching life go by normally while I behave so egregiously.

When the kiss ends she opens her eyes and smiles a shy, adolescent smile expressing so much more than I want to see. I have no idea how I want her to react but having not thought about it prior, I’m at the mercy of inertia. I say exactly what I’m thinking, “I’m fucked if anyone finds out we just kissed.”

She giggles, “Oh don’t worry, and nobody’s going to find out.”

I successfully force my mind to disconnect while we enter the diner, are shown our seats and right up until she shows me pictures that she colored on vacation. They are Care Bears, each one complete with a theme and a meaning. The similarity to how a daughter would treat a father makes me achingly uncomfortable. My ears are hot from the embarrassment that she colored them for me and my tongue was just in her mouth. I feel dirty but switch to the detached ego state and do what comes naturally, I block out the awkwardness and continue seamlessly.

Seeing the different hues of rainbows and lollipops that brightly highlight the page I feel a bizarre sensation between my stomach and chest. It feels like nerves and feels like hunger to the point that I dismiss it as a muscle spasm. The feeling leaves as quickly but before it subsides I feel lost, like a blackout, impossible to focus.

Once the wave crests, I’m able to listen to explanations of what each picture represents. She talks about where she was when she colored them and why she wrote each caption underneath. “I love rainbows, sweet candy lollipops, what cute Care Bears.” Her captions are absent innuendo and full of pure innocence. I’m relieved when she reaches the last picture, allowing me to change the subject to something less juvenile.

Part of me is dreading the race knowing I have to introduce her to people I know. I can only say, “This is Natalia and she is a student of mine.” I’m hypersensitive, feeling like I must prepare for anything. I imagine how I might react to the same situation or more accurately how I should react. I find no peace but more interestingly, no cause to reevaluate my motives.

Reactions are mixed making me too scared to truly interpret them. Some of my friends greet her warmly and without adverse feedback while others stop in mid, “Nice to meet y—.” Natalia is composed and to each person simply says, “Hi, how are you?”

I don’t do well in the race, too concerned with looking good in my spandex. This obsession comforts me in a unique way, consuming my thoughts during each lap. When I come past the start/finish line each time instead of using the flat open space to sprint, I search for her in the crowd. I think about our kiss wondering if she is too. At times, I’m regretful but also remember how it felt good to have my body pressed up against her feeling her lips on mine.

The kiss awakens the latent physicality underlying all of our contact. We spend several afternoons together in the beginning of summer but do not work on her assignment. We spend the time in the back seat of my car. I can sense her exploration, curiosity driving her hands. I feel her linger at places not because they are erogenous zones but because she has never felt hair on a man’s chest. The first time I take off my shirt she sits back and stares for longer than is comfortable. Long enough that I wonder if something has frightened her.

I ask, “Are you okay?”

All she seems able to do is nod hesitantly, making me terribly sad. I feel the reality that I am doing something wrong without the ability to process it. I never take this feeling to the next logical level which would be the impetus to stop and undo the already wreaked havoc. The path toward any sort of introspection is a dead end because somewhere underneath that depth of thought lies answers I do not want to distinguish. My despondency convincing enough that the destination is not somewhere I want to explore. I dangerously disengage to the point that I doubt my own presence in the moment arriving at a dreamlike state where we are both left staring at one another, both of us in awe of me.

It’s difficult to offer an explanation as to what it’s like to be entrenched in these decisions, feeling as if I was illustrated into this landscape, the events leading me here only half-decided. I have merely a cameo in every decision, not a supporting role. I have the opportunity to say no, to change my mind at any time but at the moment the threshold is crossed I feel chauffeured down this road and am now lost. So many decisions seem to neglect my influence on the outcome of events, feeling disempowered to exert my opinion by my own ambivalence.

When Natalia is done silently dealing with unknown inhibitions she presses her lips to mine again. I let her take all of the steps that stretch beyond the limits of our current scope. Much like everything else up to this point, I lead her to the edge of the final step and allow her to push through the barrier. It’s essentially her decision to progress.

In the midst of a typical phone conversation, Natalia tells me, “I saw my therapist this afternoon.” She explains how I came up in session as someone trustworthy with whom she has a positive relationship. I know nothing about the therapeutic process. I understand neither how nor why someone goes to a stranger about their problems. As she speaks, my mind wanders to what it would be like for me to sit on a therapist’s couch, unable to fathom telling anyone my secrets. Talia concludes, “Chris thought it would be a good idea for you to come in for session with the three of us.”

I immediately see the opening for me to ingratiate myself further and potentially win over her mother as well as Chris, but Natalia tells me that she is nervous, not wanting to risk suspicion. I agree but explain, “It could be useful to have an ally in case we ever need their support.”

“What if they’re able to sense there’s something going on?” she asks.

“Hey, don’t worry. I’ll answer their questions and I promise I can convince them that there’s nothing bad about this.” Part of the reason why I alleviate her fears so nonchalantly is because the meeting seems far-fetched.

One week after I forget about the conversation, I receive a voicemail from Chris asking me to join them exactly as Talia
said. What is most unnerving is that I know her ulterior motive, certain I’m being sized up. Kathy, Natalia’s mother, Chris and maybe even Natalia are going to be feeling me out to ascertain my intentions. I suspect Kathy will sift through some underlying reservations about why I’m a mentor in her daughter’s life and Chris will be verifying that all this is psychologically just. I fully understand the search for the supporting ethos, as well as what I must do to receive their stamp of approval, and sadly, am exhilarated by the challenge.

I arrive first and sit nervously in the waiting room. Kathy and Natalia arrive after only a few minutes. The awkward greeting hangs over us only momentarily before being rescued by Chris. In that tongue-tied moment I’m overcome with a strange feeling that Kathy might not mind if I fulfilled all the roles that come with standing in for a father-figure. Chris emerges from her office with a wide smile and extends her hand as I turn to say, “Hello.” I have a discomfited feeling, knowing I’m here to lie in a place where honesty is necessary to facilitate healing.

Everyone except Chris fidgets in their seat as we begin, throwing illegible sideways glances. Chris brings me up to speed with what has gone on in their sessions regarding the events in Talia’s life and their effects. She speaks of abandonment, confusion and feelings of loss and regret, beginning with the depths of sadness over the loss of her father’s mental capacity in a car accident.

When Talia was nine her father was seriously impaired in a head-on collision. She had told me the story before but I listen intently anyway. He absorbed the majority of the impact on the back of his head, causing major brain damage. Natalia has discussed with Chris how the accident has left him almost impossible to have a relationship with because of his limited capacity. Chris continues by telling me how Talia thought she found
the acceptance of an adult male in Jared, Corinna’s step-father, only to be betrayed. I listen and nod despite my already intimate knowledge.

After the recap she looks at Natalia very intently before turning her eyes towards me, “Natalia has spoken very highly of you. She feels comfortable speaking to you and trusts you.”

Chris knows I have offered a shoulder to cry on and the in-depth discussions Natalia and I have had on a variety of emotional levels. All of this makes Natalia, Kathy and Chris happy but they must make absolutely certain I’m not going to be the continuation of a disturbing pattern. Nobody in this room can infer from what has been conveyed today that it’s already too late.

“Jim, before we go any further, we must all make absolute certain that you’re not going to be another man in Natalia’s life that disappoints her,” Chris says to me with a snarl that I feel projects some of her own past onto me.

I ask for no elaboration, I simply reassure by leaning a few degrees forward before I say, “I will not let Natalia down.” I may have emoted too much but the silence in the room coupled with the look that Kathy and Chris exchange reassures me they are sold.

The plan is to form a therapy team where Kathy serves as the eyes and ears of Natalia’s life at home and I serve as the same in school. Chris details everything systematically before asking, “Do you understand what we are striving for here?” I nod in agreement so she continues, “What types of positive peer groups can you put Natalia in touch with?” My safest route is the alibi I’ve already used, mountain biking.