Folie à Deux (33 page)

“Everything.”

But before I can reply another text arrives, “About us.”

My panic is inexplicable, almost enough to make me faint. My first reaction is to start the car and drive away, for good. I don’t know what I would do, but I imagine the worst, thinking that the cops know and I may already be hunted. I hate the feeling in my stomach but after the wave crests, I calm to the strangest sensation of relief. Lying to even one less person liberates me. My fingers can barely find the right keys to text. While still fumbling Natalia sends another text that I’m reluctant to open.

“It’s okay Jim, she’s fine,” I read.

I cannot fathom anything as fine with the images plowing through my mind but Talia is remarkably calm. I delete the half-typed text and instead ask her if she can talk.

She calls within a minute, her serenity counters my insanity, “Are you okay?”

I stammer, “Um, I don’t know, you tell me. Am I?”

I feel disempowered and wish that I had been made a part of that decision. “Should I be running now?” I ask.

She laughs, “You’re so silly.”

“How did this happen?” I ask, but before she can respond I say, “Wait, where are you? Can your mother hear you right now?”

“I’m sitting on the floor in Mama’s bedroom,” provides an uncomfortable picture of her adolescence.

“Well Mama started talking about a conversation she had with another mom. She heard how Catherine is having sex on the weekends and drinking and God only knows what. Then Mama tells me how lucky she is that I don’t cause her any of those problems.”

Natalia pauses, as I’m about to ask what any of that has to do with my question she continues, “So I started to cry because I hate keeping this secret from Mama and I had such a strong feeling that she wouldn’t be mad. Well, I was right.”

It bothers me that she refers to her as, “Mama,” and not, “My mom,” because it is the simplest diversion from her earth shattering news. She continues, “I started to cry. I told her that the only problem that I cause her is that I’m in love with my French teacher. She just said, ‘Oh Talia, I know you love Mr. Cunneely but that’s just a dream. There’s nothing to cry about.’ Then I said, ‘Well he loves me too.’ He told me he does and we talk all the time about the future of our relationship.’”

My anxiety becomes painful before she continues, “She was silent for a moment and looked at me. I thought she was like mad or something, but I think that she was just trying to see if I was telling the truth. Then she said, ‘Well you guys need to be careful that you don’t get caught.’”

I try to let her finish but my disbelief makes silence impossible, “So you told your mother about us and she didn’t say she was calling the cops. You’re sure she didn’t remain calm to avoid either of us doing something drastic before they could arrest me?”

After laughing again she assures me, “Mama is downstairs eating dinner. She’s fine. She has not and will not call the police.”

The last thing Talia adds is, “Oh! And I asked her if she wanted to speak to you and she said it would be a good idea but in a few days after she’s had some time.”

I cannot even think clearly, fear and confusion grip me past the point of paralysis. A blitz of questions clouds my ability to perform any voluntary action. Breathing, barely manageable. What happens next? Who else knows by now? How do I explain any of this? How is Kathy cool with it?

I can’t help but feel betrayed. However, also relieved if all was received as well as Natalia says. I want to knock on their door right now and have the conversation but know I should wait. I wish, for the first time that I had someone to talk to, each day growing exponentially more difficult to function.

There is nobody I can turn to but me. I want to run and want to stay where I am because I feel safe sitting silently in this parking lot. I sit, watching my breath condense in the cold air wondering what this next step will become as it evolves into the new normal. I’m scared, reluctant, and as usual regretful.

We hang up so she can finish eating and I try to teach my class. It seems impossible to concentrate on anything meaningful. Three hours, I trudge through, awaiting a knock at the door and flashing lights in the parking lot. I walk out of class, fully expecting to be thrown to the ground and handcuffed. Unfortunately, my corrupt behavior does not come with any foreshadowing of how my world will collapse.

Once in my car I call Talia to find out if anything new has developed. She is even calmer, almost jovial as she explains, “Mama and I have been talking all night and she has been asking all sorts of questions.”

She tells me, “It feels great to be honest with her and I just knew that she would be cool and supportive.”

I still cannot believe this is happening. I feel better in some respects that my future is in the hands of not just Natalia but also her mother, another decision I will come to regret. The bounce in her voice angers me as it completely disregards the caveats of this unforeseen twist.

I have only the thirty minute ride to discuss what I should say when I have this conversation with her mother. It’s set for Saturday, at her house. Natalia assures me, “Just be honest. Mama just wants to know that I’m in good hands.”

She explains the variety of questions her mother has asked, providing a strange mix of comfort and confusion. With each conflicting stage of the insanity I realize that Kathy is relaxed and actually entertaining the realistic possibility of her fifteen year old daughter dating a thirty year old teacher. I’m simultaneously petrified and consoled by the incompatible truths.

When this swirl of perplexity calms long enough for me to lie in bed, I feel oddly alleviated that Natalia no longer has to keep our secret from her mother. I’m not convinced this will benefit me, but am happy that Natalia doesn’t have to endure so much secrecy. I see the part of Natalia that is the extension of my own psyche as fortunate and like to take credit for that. I’ve listened to her speak about her mother to know how close they are. She wants to make her proud and be a perfect daughter so I’m happy to alleviate some pressure. I rationalize my anxiety away thusly until I struggle to sleep.

Two days after our secret is revealed I make the surreal walk to the front door of Kathy’s townhouse. I call Natalia on my way to make sure that everything is still as planned, but I cannot shake the fear that the police are awaiting me. The horrible feeling in my stomach actually forces me to moan as I switch from my adult ego to the fifteen year old. The transition is especially difficult tonight because the fifteen year old drives this part of my life, but the adult has to attend the meeting. The grown man façade needs to make sure that Kathy understands I mean her daughter no harm. I turn the last corner to their townhouse slowly and reluctantly ready to slam the car into reverse and flee.

I park and take a deep breath, completely ignorant to what I am doing. As I ring the doorbell I smell chicken frying. I’m surprised by how long I stand at the door considering they know I’m coming. When it finally opens I see Natalia, a smile on her face unlike any I’ve ever seen. Her expression speaks of having the upper hand but not for any exploitative purpose only that I am a guest in her world for a change.

Her eyebrows raised, her smirk conveys nebulous uncertainty. “Hi, are you ready?” she asks barely aspirating her consonants.

She dressed up for this, including makeup, trying to look more mature. As I slowly make my way down the hallway I see
Kathy standing at the stove. She breaks the ice immediately, “I said to Talia, ‘What if we just don’t answer the door? Then we never have to do this.’”

She chuckles letting me know that she is joking, but I’m apologetic for having put all of us in this uncomfortable predicament. “I’m sorry,” I say sheepishly.

“No, it’s fine,” she does a sub-par job of putting me at ease.

We move to the living room and although I’ve been here before, my presence now makes me uncomfortable. We discuss topics ranging from what I want from her daughter to evading discovery. She mentions that Talia told her we have not had sex, which is a lie, but believed because of how forthright we apparently seem. She makes no statement forbidding intercourse only marking off of a mental checklist.

At different points I sit forward with my elbows on my knees to punctuate the gravity of my words. I feel her eyes linger on me a bit longer than is normal during natural digressions. It’s voyeuristic, she appears to live vicariously through Natalia as she tells me that all she wants is for someone to take care of her daughter. Kathy asks about my marriage and my career and amazingly my long term plans in teaching as if I am being interviewed for the position of illicit lover for her child.

I lie about my marriage, “Dana and I are in the process of getting a divorce,” which tears my stomach apart when I mumble the words.

What else can I say? That I am living two separate lives? I have strayed from Dana for a variety of reasons, but this betrayal should feel worse than any I can imagine. Remarkably, I’m able to block the full extent of its treachery. I feel no remorse, having completely severed ties with my adulthood.

We come to all of the necessary agreements in order to receive Kathy’s blessing. She makes clear that she has nothing further when she asks, “So what are you guys gonna do tonight?”

I shrug my shoulders, “I guess we’re going to the mall to do some Christmas shopping,” and the conversation turns to the holidays. I feel like I’m watching myself in a movie, too unbelievable to grasp that I am living this. We say goodbye in the same foyer as so many times before but this time is different. Talia and I leave as a couple, apparently no concerns on Kathy’s conscience, I wear them exclusively.

We sit in the car and although in no shape to drive, I go just to avoid sitting here any longer. I stop at the first convenience store I see and without a word, walk inside and buy a pack of cigarettes. I haven’t smoked in years, but the events of this evening are much too difficult to manage chemical free. I don’t know what Talia’s reaction will be but also don’t care. I open the pack, pull one out and put it in my mouth ready to light.

Before I strike the match, I look at her and ask with the unlit cigarette pressed between my lips, “You want one?”

“Fuck yeah,” she says with a grin that verifies her understanding the benefits of being with an older man.

Three quick drags and she looks at me very seriously, “We can’t tell Mama that either of us smokes. She’ll kill me but she’ll lose respect for you. She hates smokers.”

I nod. Keeping my renewed habit of smoking from Kathy seems the least of secrets that need concealing.

We sit in the car aimlessly. I don’t think either of us accounted for what life would be like after this conversation simply because the content itself was unimaginable. It feels new all over again with one shroud of secrecy now absent. Something seems
missing, the careful planning having lost one facet. However, it is replaced with attempts to discern the new protection now and in the long term. After my cigarette is finished and I think myself composed we leave.

Moments later we debrief the surrealistic conversation, as well as our conversion from secretive, hidden dalliance to approved relationship. I refuse to believe its existence despite the verifying memory.

With full support of our liaison, Kathy recruits me into the role of co-parent. Despite the chunk of time that Talia’s job cuts out of what we would normally spend having sex after school I agree to drop her off. After she explains how she wants to start saving for a car I continue the act of supportive boyfriend. She also works one day during the weekend so the times that I would normally see her are pushed back until after she is done with her shift. I secretly feel relieved that she’ll have a portion of her time occupied by something beside me, providing a bit of breathing room. I think of all the things that I’ll be able to do while she is at work and feel the weight being lifted from my shoulders.

One Saturday evening, after I pick her up, she texts Kathy to tell her we’ll bring home a pizza. As we are waiting Kathy texts, “I already made dinner because I have company tonight.” Five minutes from her driveway, after cancelling the pizza, I am awoken from my daydream, “Company?”