THE HOUSEWIFE

Chapter 2

PAST

My eyes traced the clouds as they scudded across the sky. I looked at my wristwatch and smothered a huff. 5:00 P.M. The person coming to fetch Sophia was late. Again. I had already called Sophia’s mom twice and she promised someone would pick her up on time. She was working an evening shift and because it was her new job, she didn’t want to be late.

Through the classroom window, I saw my coworker, Ms. Nolan skittering to her black Toyota parallel parked across my old Mercedes Benz. She jabbed the key fob when she neared her vehicle. Juggling her big handbag and two grocery bags, she managed to the back seat and opened the door, dumping everything onto the seat. She backstepped from her car, slammed the door shut, and then walked to the driver’s door.

I watched as she went for the door, the wind blowing her brown hair that was shortened to her nape. She inhaled, using the other hand to tuck strands behind her ears. She was dressed in a similar outfit to me. A belted dress and a pair of black stilettos. Ms. Nolan and I had so much in common, except that she was a widow who’d lost her husband. Whenever we talked during lunch breaks, I saw the pain in her eyes. The wound was still there, and it would take a while for it to heal completely. I had lost someone dear before, so I knew something about grief.

She lived alone in one of those idyllic suburbs around here like me. She didn’t have many friends like me. On most breaks, she’d be in the classroom, always minding her business. I didn’t want her to think she was alone in this world, especially after the tragic death of her husband. It wasn’t something she enjoyed talking about. The circumstances surrounding his death were too morbid to handle.

On Saturday night, we’d go to the bar in town and take a booth. We’d talk about ourselves over a bucket of beer, then we’d meet again Monday morning, trying to continue with the journey called life. So far so good. Ms. Nolan was getting better. Eventually, she would. Although the pain would never go away, she’d adjust to it, as I did many many years ago.

I peered at my watch again. 5:10 P.M. Poor Sophia! Turning away from the window, I passed by the empty class to my desk, my heels clicking loudly. Sophia sat on her chair, her head bent over the book in front of her. The pencil in her hand moved rapidly across the page.

What was she drawing this time? An astronaut? Probably.

During one of our lessons, I’d asked the kids what they wanted to become when they grew up. I was amazed by their responses. Sophia had told me she wanted to visit the moon. Since then, I had seen her draw the moon and other heavenly bodies. Such a sweet girl. She reminded me so much of myself when I was younger, except that my childhood days weren’t great. There were some moments I didn’t remember and some I had forgotten. Others were imprinted in my mind like they happened yesterday. The dark ones.

I never visited them. And for a very good reason. Sometimes, it was best you let sleeping dogs lie. Some memories were better forgotten.

Moving my eyes away from Sophia, who was oblivious to my staring, I unclasped my brown handbag and opened it. I placed my phone and charger in it, then went for the small compact from the side pocket. While Sophia worked with her pencil and book, I picked a strand of hair from my undereye, wiping beads of sweat with a floral tissue. Lowering my hand into my bag, I brought out my lip gloss and rubbed it on my lips, then pressed them against each other.

Satisfied with my professional look, I placed the compact and lip gloss into my bag, clasping it. With a sigh, I glanced at my watch for the third time, resisting the urge to call Sophia’s mom again. By now all my children were already home with their respective parents, probably in bed after eating and doing their homework. Except for Sophia and she happened to be one of my best students. I turned around and walked to Sophia’s table, sitting across from her.