Kindergarten Baby: A Novel Page 3

  “Oh no, Miss Lindsey. It’s not a thermo…‌nomo…‌mometer. It’s his power stick. It gives him power, and it makes mom be good and—”

  The buzzer rang, and the kids jumped to their feet, forgetting all about the power stick. Saved by the bell. Lindsey said ‘goodbye’ and ‘see you tomorrow’ to each of her students as they left, and she made sure that Bobby received a giant-sized smile. Lindsey was suddenly concerned that he would tell her something that could not go unreported. She could tell he was getting close.

  He’d never mentioned his dad before, and the man had never come to school. Not even for Open House Night. And now she had to wonder about this ‘power stick.’ Was it a sign of violence at home? Lindsey hoped it wouldn’t turn out to be a CPS (Child Protective Services) case, but on the other hand, Bobby was a strange kid. Maybe it was nothing more than that, she tried to convince herself. Maybe she was just overreacting because her own life was so unbearably awful.

  If only she had her own power stick. A little superhero talent, maybe some Pokémon energy…‌something! With supernatural powers she could right all the wrongs she witnessed at school. She could spin the earth around backwards like Superman had done in the movie, undo the catastrophic event that had plagued her since childhood, and go back to the happy days when her marriage was new, fresh, and alive. When Anthony had loved her, and only her.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  They’d been married in a setting perfect for Snow White, complete with woodland creatures chattering all round them and the Big Thompson River gurgling just a few feet away. Beside Lindsey stood the handsome prince. Her handsome prince. They exchanged simple gold bands and spoke traditional wedding words, pledging to always be faithful to one another. Everything had been perfect.

  Now he stood before her, a completely different man. A man she didn’t know. He’d taken most of her heart, and today he’d come back for the rest of it.

  “No, Anthony. You can’t take him,” she pleaded. “Please don’t take him. He’s all I’ve got.”

  He’d run off with another woman then come back to take the dog, too? Who stooped that low? But how could she stop him? Call the police? No, they wouldn’t come for something like that. And though she was sorely tempted to punch him, getting physical or using any kind of force was out of the question.

  “I’ll be completely alone without Wendell. How can you do this to me? Besides, when couples split up, the child stays with the mother,” she begged, knowing she sounded desperate. She didn’t care. He had to give in!

  But Anthony just rolled his eyes. “If you’re done traveling down memory lane and taking your little fantasy trip back into the ‘50s, I’ll just take Wendell and go,” he snipped. “Shawna and I have a large house and an even bigger yard. Several acres, actually. He’ll be much happ—”

  Her sadness suddenly took a backseat to anger. “What do you mean you have a big house and yard?” She couldn’t stop her upper lip from curling into a sneer. “Don’t you mean Shawna has all this?”

  He looked down his nose at her, affronted. “No, I do. And I don’t like what you’re implying.”

  “Well, if the shoe fits—”

  “Shawna is too young to have earned much money yet. It’s mine. And I worked hard to get it.”

  “And just how can that be?” she demanded. “We were broke! We’ve lived in this tiny house because you said you needed every penny of your income to set up and support your fledgling practice. We’ve lived off my teaching income, so that you‌—‌we‌—‌could accomplish that. Now you’re telling me that you have a large house on several acres of land a mere two weeks after you walked out on me?”

  Pieces of the puzzle were coming together. The life she’d so longed for, so needed to recapture, had all been a lie. A façade. He’d used her as a stepping stone, which meant she was nothing more than a means to an end.

  “Shawna is ‘too young’ to earn that much money? Well, at least you’re not after her money. I feel so much better knowing that,” she snapped sarcastically. “Tell me. Just how young is ‘too young’ to earn a decent living, Anthony? I’m only twenty-six, and I apparently made enough money for you. How old is Shawna, anyway?”

  “That’s not important.”

  “You’re the one that brought it up. How old is she?”

  “Lindsey, come on. Don’t be so unreasonable.”

  “Unreasonable?!” She stepped as close to him as she dared, counting out his sins on her fingers. “You walked out on me. You made love in our bed with another woman. You concealed your financial assets from me.” Her breath quickened, her volume increase. “You concealed an affair that you’ve probably been having for a long time. Now you want to take Wendell, the only thing I have left to care about, and you think I’m unreasonable? You bastard!” she yelled.

  He took a breath, seeming unsure. “You’re losing it, Lindsey,” he said.

  She laughed, a short, cold sound that hardly sounded like her own voice. She definitely wasn’t sounding like a kindergarten teacher at the moment. “You’re damn right I’m losing it. And I’ve only just begun. How old is she? I want to know.”

  “You really don’t want to know. It’s not important. It’s not relevant.”

  “I want to know.”

  Anthony strode past her, then picked up the dog’s jumbo dish, leash, and rawhide bone. He gave a whistle and headed angrily toward the door. Wendell’s tail wag was low and confused. He looked at Anthony, then at Lindsey, questions in his eyes.

  “Get over here, Wendell!” Anthony yelled.

  Tail between his legs, Wendell ran to Anthony and looked up. Anthony nudged the dog’s hip so he moved out of the house, then slammed the door behind them.

  A second later, the door opened again, and Anthony poked his head inside. “Twenty,” he said. “She’s twenty and she’s hot! There! Are you happy now?”

  It took a moment before she could speak. When she did, it was through her teeth. “I hope you end up just like…‌just like The Money Pig!” she screamed back at him.

  He frowned, confused by her strange reply, then shut the door and was gone.

  ***

  After school, Lindsey drove down Speedway Boulevard, past the post office and the western wear store, on her way to the small, fragrant coffee shop where she and Laura met almost every Monday. They began each conversation with the statement, “Let’s not talk about school,” but they always did.

  After a few moments of school talk, Laura leaned forward, a devilish twinkle in her eye. “All right,” she said confidentially. “How about this? I think I know where little Miss Shawna works.”

  Dropping her head to the table, Lindsey moaned. “You’re making my bad day worse. Who cares where she works?”

  “You will, I think.”

  Lindsey lifted her head and put her chin on her hand, then regarded her friend through narrowed eyes. “Well? Are you going to tell me, or do I have to play Twenty Questions to pry the information out of you?”

  “She works at the office,” Laura said with a smirk.

  Lindsey rolled her eyes. “The office. Great. Okay. I can see we are going to play Twenty Questions.”

  Laura’s grin widened. “No, Lindsey,” she said slowly. “She works at The Office.”

  Lindsey stared at her, stunned. The Office was one of the town’s best known strip clubs. “No. I don’t believe it.” She paused. “How do you know, anyway?”

  Laura shifted slightly, looking uncomfortable. “I had to get my tires rotated the other day, so I took the car to Big Daddy’s Tires, which is just across the street from the club. While I was waiting I…‌well, I’m sorry, Lindsey, but I saw Anthony.”

  “What?”

  “He was…‌walking with a leggy redhead, and they were holding hands.”

  Lindsey closed her eyes, trying to keep her breathing calm. She didn’t want to see that image in her head.

  “Anyway, he went into the club with her. I was staring‌—‌if he’d looked across
the street he would have seen me for sure. When they were inside I ran across the street to look at a poster outside The Office’s entrance,” she said. “It showed‌—‌and I do mean showed—all their regular dancers. There was the tall, good-looking‌—‌sorry, honey, but she is‌—‌redheaded young woman I’d seen with Anthony, and the poster said her name was Shawna. It has to be her.”

  ***

  Fifteen days had passed since Anthony had walked out, though it seemed more like fifteen years to Lindsey. She was beginning to believe her unbelievable situation. The reality of losing her husband had sunk in like a rough-edged blade, and it hurt just as much today as it had that first day. Maybe more. She told herself that she was better off without him, saying he was no good for her, and she deserved more. All the clichés about shattered love seemed to apply. But her own lectures didn’t ease the loneliness one tiny bit. The days were tolerable. It was fortunate that she loved her job, and the kids kept her busy. School was like a safe little pocket of existence. But she dreaded the abysmal nights and the long, dreary weekends.

  And it wasn’t just loneliness. Outside of the safety of her school’s campus, she was jumpy. Even the smallest sound gave her system a jolt, whether it was a tire screeching, a baby crying, a dog barking‌—‌oh, her heart ached for Wendell‌—‌or even a tree branch brushing against the wall of her adobe house. Everything startled her, sent adrenalin rushing through her system. She had no idea when she’d become so paranoid.

  With cooler weather due any day, she threw herself into planning for a winter garden in a corner of her tiny backyard. Sure, the mental health professionals all labeled what she was doing “avoidance” or “denial,” but she was the one who had to cope, who had to get past the loneliness and the all too familiar sense of abandonment. She decided her medicine and therapy of choice would be gardening.

  She knew very little about gardening in the southwest except that it could be tricky. A little research was absolutely necessary. She stepped outside, heading to the bookstore, then took a deep breath and smiled. Just taking this simple action felt good. The darkness lifted, if only for a moment.

  The exquisite aroma of delicious, premium coffee hovered among the colorful shelves of books and the comfy, snuggle-down chairs. Everyone in the bookstore‌—‌shoppers and clerks alike‌—‌was a book lover, and she felt a kinship with them all. Lindsey loved this place. She liked to fantasize that anything was possible here. The only sorrows suffered within these walls were those a reader chose to feel while empathizing‌—‌or fantasizing‌—‌along with a fictional character. That’s what she told herself, anyway. It helped her get through another day.

  The gardening theme spilled quite nicely into Lindsey’s classroom. The students learned to chant part of a poem called “Crops on the Farm.”

  It takes lots of help from the farmer,

  The rain and the sunshine, too.

  To grow all the crops that are yummy to eat,

  Good food for me, and good food for you.

  “Miss Lindsey?”

  “Yes, Harley. Thank you for raising your hand.”

  “What are crops?”

  Aha! A teachable moment. “You have great questions, Harley. Class, any volunteers? Does any one think they know or would like to take a guess?”

  There were no volunteers. They all simply stared, waiting for her to tell them. But she wanted them to think for themselves. Lindsey kept waiting for an answer, then she asked the question again.

  “What are crops?”

  Finally, Marvin’s hand went up. “Crops…‌are a lot like alligators,” he stated with conviction.

  ***

  She drove west, heading to The Desert Grows Nursery, until a red traffic light forced her to come to a stop. This was not a good place to stop. She stared steadfastly ahead, refusing to look to her left. She was not going to look. Don’t…‌look. But of course she looked, and she saw the familiar signage in front of The Office. Could it really be possible that her husband was dating a twenty-year-old stripper? Could Laura have been joking? She grinned. Sure. Laura was probably just trying to make her laugh. But still…‌that would be an awfully cruel joke for her friend to play.

  Lindsey reached into the glove box to retrieve her digital camera, which had a powerful zoom lens. She aimed the camera at the flesh-revealing poster by the entrance then zoomed in. She focused, shot, and turned the car around. She wanted to see the photo on her television so she’d know what she was up against. The Desert Grows Nursery would have to wait.

  Autumn coolness permeated the house, so before plugging the memory card into the viewer, Lindsey wrapped herself in the old coyote-covered quilt her mom had made for her long ago. When she thought she was ready, she brought the image up on her TV and stared mournfully at the photo. How could she compete with someone‌—‌a young someone‌—‌who looked like that? The girl was scantily dressed in a red sequined bikini bottom. A long, sheer red scarf draped strategically across her perfect‌—‌and large‌—‌breasts. Everything about the woman looked so flawless she seemed unreal. Like a sexy superhero. She made magazine centerfolds look like the average girl next door.

  Lindsey had assumed Anthony would get over his immature, foolish fling. Now she wasn’t so sure. Why would he come back to a cute little kindergarten teacher when he could have Shawna, the stunningly beautiful, exotic goddess? Somehow, the hurt she’d felt after the initial betrayal seemed minuscule compared to this hopeless feeling of permanent loss settling over her.

  Anthony had filled the emptiness she’d felt ever since her parents had died. Now that void felt larger than ever. Anthony would never come back, she realized. Why should he? He had what he wanted: his fantasy life.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Rehearsals for the school’s annual Winter Performance were underway, and as usual, the schoolwide project was time consuming. But if it was done right, it could be one of the educational highlights of the year. So far the performance was shaping up nicely. Lindsey’s kindergarten class had teamed up with Judy Lopez’s first grade class, and they were writing and performing an acceptable version of The Twelve Days of Christmas. “Acceptable” in this public school district meant that it included no mention of Christmas. If Christmas was mentioned, then Hanukkah, Kwanza, and every other December holiday that anyone might think of would have to be mentioned as well.

  On the first day of winter

  My true love gave to me,

  A quail in a Palo Verde tree.

  On the second day of winter

  My true love gave to me,

  Two javelinas

  And a quail in a Palo Verde tree…

  The children sang so sweetly‌—‌that is, some of the children sang sweetly. Others were too busy wiggling, poking, or pushing their neighbors. Then there was Bobby, hunched under a table scowling. Lindsey didn’t dare acknowledge him or try to entice him back into the activity. She knew from experience that she’d only get into a power struggle that way. So she pretended not to notice. Instead, she made good use of those ‘eyes in the back of the head’ that teachers are given upon receipt of their teaching certificates, making sure nothing bad happened.

  On the third day of winter

  My true love gave to me,

  Three western geckos…

  “What do you think?” Lindsey asked Judy.

  “Well, the lyrics are coming along nicely. Only nine more verses to go. Getting these little guys to stand still long enough to get through the song…‌now that’s going to take some work.”

  Judy was a round, energetic, Back-to-Basics teacher, and the two of them had little in common. This was the first real opportunity they’d had to get to know each other. After school, Lindsey stopped by Judy’s classroom to talk over a few editorial changes, and just walking in to the classroom made her smile. The atmosphere was homey, warm, and inviting.

  “Oh, my gosh! What is that smell?” blurted Lindsey.

  Judy beamed. “Green corn tamales. You
want one?”

  “Yes! I’m starving!”

  “Then by all means, take two.”

  Lindsey bit into one, then closed her eyes, moaning with pleasure. “Mmmm. Where did you get these? They are delicious.”

  Judy’s smile was proud. “We made them today.”

  “We? You had a visitor? A cooking visitor?”

  She shook her head. “No. No such luck. Just me and the kids. We made them. We ate them, too. We were reading the book, Too Many Tamales by Gary Soto and Ed Martinez, and I just happened to have the ingredients on hand to make them. One thing led to another. You know how that happens. I love to cook with the kids, and this was a perfect opportunity for me to integrate a literature lesson, a math lesson, a history lesson, a health lesson, with a whole lot of good food.”

  Not at all what Lindsey had expected from the Back-to-Basics teacher. Her eyes scanned the room, taking in every nook and cranny, every bulletin board, and every shelf and display around her room.

  “What were you expecting?” Judy asked wryly. “Stacks of flash cards? Piles of worksheets? Shelves of textbooks? Rows of desks?”

  “Well, yes,” Lindsey sheepishly replied. “I heard you were the Back—”

  “—to Basics teacher. Yes, I know. That’s what they say. But have they ever come into my classroom to check it out? Nope. I like to think of myself as a Back-to-Balance teacher. I use whatever methodology fits the moment or the student. People assume a lot. I think my age has something to do with it. Plus, I’m Hispanic. People think I’m a traditional kind of person in every way.” She chuckled. “They couldn’t be further from the truth. Except maybe in the kitchen…‌and the bedroom,” she added with a wink.

  With a chuckle, Lindsey veered back to the subject of the song. “I can live with the verse about four laughing cows,” she said, “but I don’t know about the five dancing girls. It just leaves itself open for a variety of odd interpretations. How about five dancing deer? We have some mule deer in the area.”