Page 56 of For Your Own Good
“Her sudden death is a great shock to everyone. Most of all the students,” the headmaster says, shaking his head after every phrase. “Givenher age, the medical examiner has already said he will perform an autopsy.”
Perfect. That’s exactly what needs to happen. Exactly what Teddy had expected.
While the headmaster drones on about counseling, Teddy tunes him out. He glances around at his colleagues, counting how many are crying. Trying to figure out which ones are faking it.
Not that it’s difficult. He’s sure his wife used to do the same thing.
Or ex-wife, he should say. If he ever signs the papers.
They’d arrived from her lawyer the day after Christmas. She’d planned it that way, no doubt. For maximum pain.
Allison doesn’t want anything. Not half the house, half the retirement funds, half the bank accounts. All she wants is a divorce. One day, perhaps, he will grant it. But for now, the papers sit on his desk—formerly her desk—and that’s where they’ll stay.
AFTER MORE HEADSHAKINGand so many tears, fake and real, the meeting finally ends. Several of the teachers plan to go get a drink before heading home, and they ask Teddy to join them. Any other time, he would have said no. This evening he says yes.
They end up at a sad little place with bad lighting and scuffed tables. Teddy orders a tonic and lime, even though it’s disgustingly bitter, but it makes everyone think he’s drinking.
Neither Ms.Marsha nor the headmaster is present, so Nari Tam assumes the leadership position. She isn’t the oldest or the longest-serving faculty member, but she did go to Belmont. She’s part of the family. And one of the few who isn’t white. Belmont is a distinctly pale school.
“To Sonia,” she says, standing up and raising her glass. She’s wearing black, her dark eyes looking a bit teary. “She was our colleague and our friend, and may she rest in peace.”
“To Sonia,” everyone repeats, clinking glasses all around.
“The first day I met her,” someone says, starting the memory portion of the evening, “she gave me a tour of the school, and what I remember most is how everything came back to the students. That was her whole focus.”
“She loved the kids so much. I think that’s why she didn’t have any,” Nari says. “She considered her students to be her kids.”
Lots of nodding.
“She said that once,” someone else says. “That she didn’t need to have kids because she already had enough.”
A few people laugh. A few others cry.
Teddy listens to his coworkers rewrite history, the way people do when someone dies. He even chimes in with his own story. “When I picture Sonia, I always see her carrying that coffee cup,” he says. “That big red coffee cup.”
Someone laughs. “Yes! It says ‘Teaching Is My Superpower.’ ”
“I think a student gave that to her,” Nari says.
“I’m sure,” Teddy says, although he doesn’t believe that. Sonia was the type who would buy that cup for herself.
After an hour of reminiscing, the group starts to break up. It’s only then that they get around to talking about the way she died. As if it would’ve been insensitive to start with that topic.
“It has to be something natural, right?” someone says.
“Absolutely,” says Nari. “There’s no way we’ve had two murders at Belmont.”
Everyone nods, but they don’t look sure.
Good.
On the way out of the bar, Frank stops him in the parking lot. He was so quiet all night that Teddy forgot he was there.
“Are you okay?” Teddy asks. Everyone knows Frank is the one who found Sonia in the hallway.
“No.” Frank shakes his head back and forth with a bit too much violence. “I’m not okay.”
Teddy waits.
