Page 3 of Unforgivable

“Yes, she is. It’s a minor setback, Tara, really. I’ll take her home and talk to Jack and let you know.”

“Have you considered counseling for her?”

“Not since the last time,” I say, “I’ll talk to Jack about it. I’m sure it’s nothing.” I press my bag against my chest and stand up. “Thank you. I’ll take her home now.”

“Oh and, Laura, also…”

“Yes?” I say, my hand on the door handle, my face for all the world looking like I have no idea what’s coming.

“The term’s fees. You’re fifteen hundred dollars in arrears?”

“Am I? Really? Oh my God, I’m sorry. I thought Jack had taken care of it!” I shake my head. “I’ll do it as soon as I get home.”

* * *

We live a ten-minute walk from the school. I try to take Charlie’s bag but she shrugs me off. She’s sullen because I asked her to wait outside, she probably thinks I’m taking Tara’s side. She’s angry with me, and she’s letting me know. It’s raining and I pull the hood of her parka over her head, and she takes off toward the park, toward the playground.

“Charlie, no! Come on! We’re going home!”

But she’s not done yet. She sprints around the corner, toward the concrete stairs that join up to our street even though she knows full well I don’t like to use them when it’s raining. She stomps her gumboots into puddles of water, and for a second I consider giving in, but only for a second. If I give in now, she’ll be a complete nightmare all evening.

“Come on, Charlie!” I call out to her again and, after a bit more stomping, she comes back and runs home, her backpack bouncing between her shoulder blades.

She waits for me at the gate and we walk together into the house.

I love this house. It’s by far the largest house I’ve ever lived in, but that’s not why I love it. It’s light and open and airy, views everywhere you look, a yard at the front and at the back. To the left of the hallway, an archway opens to the enormous living room with French doors leading onto the deck. The kitchen is further down the house and there’s a formal dining room which we hardly ever use. Then stairs go down to the lower level where Jack’s office is, a playroom, the laundry, my work studio and a door that opens to the backyard.

Charlie drops her school bag on the floor and runs up the stairs to her bedroom.

“Jack?”

I hang my coat, pick up her school bag and take it upstairs to her room. When I get there, she’s lying on her stomach, her head facing the window. I lie down next to her, rest my back against the bed head, kiss the top of her head. Charlie has long brown hair with a tight curl to it, almost crinkly. I love the feel of her hair. Today it smells like play dough.

“What happened with Val, sweetie?”

She shakes her head, buries her face in the pillow.

“I thought she was your friend.”

“She called me a reject,” she says, her voice muffled.

“Ah. I see.” Wait till I get my hands on that little chimp. “And that’s why you bit her?”

She nods.

“You know you’re not supposed to bite people. What if they have diseases? What if you turned into a toad? You don’t know where they’ve been.”

She looks up, sees my face. I want her to smile, but she doesn’t. She turns her head away.

“Seriously, Charlie. There are other ways of dealing with this stuff. What does Miss Lee say?”

Charlie loves Miss Lee.Ilove Miss Lee. “What does Miss Lee say?” I repeat.

“Take a breath, hold it for a count of three, think of the nicest thing you know.”

“Okay. Try it now.”

She makes an exaggerated sigh and turns around fully to face me. Scrunches up her face to hold her breath, closes her eyes. We count, together, silently. She opens her eyes wide and lets out a big, big, big breath.

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