Chapter 4

I had timed my arrival so that I could stroll by the school office before having to go to Carol Newman's classroom to meet my wife and daughter. I wanted to see if I could get a quick look at the Principal's--Dwight Newman's--face this morning after the news of the incidents involving his fucking asshole buddies--and Tim's wife, Gay.

I was outwardly smug and upbeat, but I was still pissed that the audacity of those three fuckwads. The very idea of trying to make me a fucking cuckold; of trying to humiliate me in my adopted hometown, the place where I was raising my children; of disrespecting me; and using my own wife to disrespect me.

As I passed by the office, I stopped to listen to the unusually high level of noise and activity from inside. The school secretaries were trying to deal with several parents at the service counter. I heard one of the ladies on the phone talking about Dwight.

"No, I'm sorry, but Mr. Newman was called away suddenly early this morning and is not in his office today." Pause. "I believe it was an out-of-town family emergency, but he did not tell me any details." Pause. "Yes, I expect him to be back in the office on Monday." Pause and the sound of pages turning. "It looks like he has a half hour on Tuesday afternoon at two." Pause. "Okay, Mrs. Lang, I'll pencil you in. Thank you."

Well; it looked like Dwight Newman had suddenly developed a reason to leave town for a couple of days. It couldn't have happened to a nicer guy. I grinned to myself and moved on down the hallway--past the hand-drawn pictures by the first and second graders of graveyards and flags and Soldiers and Marines (actually stick figures with what might be helmets and rifles) in anticipation of Memorial Day.

Even though I was a bit early, I was still the last parent to arrive. I saw Claire sitting in the back on the far side of the classroom just as she saw me. Her face flickered with a short smile at me and then she looked down at her hands in her lap. She did not look up again, so I looked for Mindy.

My daughter smiled at me with the intensity of the sun, she was so glad to see her daddy arrive. She lifted a hand from her desk to give me a shallow wave so that her friends could not see her excitement. After all, even in second grade, 'cool' was still required. There was a low murmur in the class of about twenty-five students.

Mindy was seated in the column of desks nearest to the window all the way across the room from where I was forced to stand. I looked at the front of the class and my gaze was met directly by an unsmiling look from Carol Newman. Carol did not glare, nor smile. It was a look more of hesitant accusation, coupled with a touch of fear. Standing behind Carol was a cute twenty-something girl, who must have been a teaching assistant or something like that. I did not recognize her from my previous visits to the school.

Carol turned to the class and got everyone to quiet down and began to introduce the Show-And-Tell event. This was a continuation of the events that occurred once a month. She had been taking it alphabetically. When they got to the Esses the first time, I was not able to attend. So, I had been rescheduled for today with the Double-Yous and added to the end of the list.

Carol said, "All right, class. Today, we will hear from several of the working parents about just what type of work they do and how they contribute to our community. While the parent is presenting, I want his or her son or daughter to stand up front as well. I just know that you are all proud of your moms and dads and want to show that pride by standing with them."

The students and their teacher, along with about a dozen adults either sitting or standing along the walls, heard the presentations from the other four parents before it was my turn. I really had my work cut out for me trying to show just how important selling investments and insurance was compared to what the store manager, the welder, the florist, and the cop did. This ought to be fun.

"Suppose you paid ten dollars for a large pizza. On the way home, a dog knocked you down and ate your pizza. How much money did you lose?" Several of the kids looked at me. No one wanted to answer out loud in front of the others; that was just too embarrassing. I pointed at one boy who did not look as scared as the rest. "How about you? How much would you lose if that happened?"

The boy blushed and looked around before answering tentatively, "Ten dollars." When I smiled at him and told he was correct, he got a little more assured and added, "And I would still be hungry because my pizza was gone." This got him some snickers from the other kids and some of the adults.

"That's correct. Now; what if you knew that you had to pass that dog's house every time you planned to bring home a pizza; and, what if, every month, you paid me ten cents--one dime--to make sure that you did not lose the ten dollars or the pizza whenever you got one. In other words, for the ten cents that you pay me each month, you could call me up to tell me that your pizza had been eaten by a dog who attacked you; I would show up about a half hour later with a replacement pizza at no cost to you."

I paused to let that sink in, and then asked, "Was it worth it to you to pay me a dime each month so that you would not have to pay another ten dollars for the pizza that you had already bought, anytime you got one, and had to walk past the house where that dog lives?"

When they began to see the wisdom of that, I said, "The ten cents a month that you paid me for being comfortable that you would not lose your pizza money is like the insurance that your parents buy from me. They pay me a small amount to take all the risk and keep them from losing huge amounts, like the cost of a house or a car or the loss of a parent's salary when he or she is ill or dies. Okay?" I guess maybe twenty out of the twenty-five had a light go on for them. The other five were not really paying attention anyway.

The class had already had a lesson earlier in the year, according to Carol, on banking and interest. I just said that investments were sort of like a bank, but that the amount of 'interest' varied. I wasn't about to get into dividends and short-and-long-term capital gains with a bunch of second graders.

Mindy had stood beside me the whole time I had made my presentation. She beamed at me, looking around the room with a smile that said silently but visually, "This is my daddy and I am so proud of him." I glanced at Claire and saw her force a smile at me briefly when our eyes met, before she looked away at Mindy.

"Well," said Carol Newman, as I nodded to her that I was finished. "That was very informative." Turning her gaze to Mindy, Carol asked, "So, Mindy, do you think that you might want to follow in your daddy's footsteps and be a financial advisor?" She was smiling as she asked this.

Mindy glanced at Carol and then at me before surprising me a bit. "No, I don't think so," she said. Then she surprised us all somewhat by saying, "I think I would like to be more like Mommy." I raised my eyebrows and glanced from Mindy's adoring face to Claire's surprised but pleased face in the back of the room. Claire's lips turned up into a pleased smile.

As I looked back to Mindy's teacher, I saw that Carol was now smiling thinly at me with a 'she-got-you' look on her face. "And why do you want to be more like your mommy, Honey?" asked Mindy's teacher.

Mindy sort of looked apologetically at me, apparently hoping that I was not disappointed that she did not want to be more like me than Claire. Then she said, "Daddy is always telling me that I should try to be the biggest and best at everything I do. And I try real hard to do what Daddy says."

I smiled as any proud father would at realizing that his child has been listening to his philosophy of life and his encouragement of his children. Mindy took a breath and continued.

"That's why I want to be like Mommy, because she is the biggest and best at what she does." Listening to Mindy and glancing around, I could tell that I was not the only one losing track of what she meant. Then, like they say--out of the mouths of babes--came her reason.

"When Mommy and I were in the Principal's office one day last week after school when she picked me up, I had to wait for her while she went into Mr. Newman's private office for a couple of minutes. When they came out, I heard Mr. Newman say that Mommy was probably still the biggest and best, but he used words that are not on my second grade word list. I guess they will be on the list for me in third or fourth grade."

Mindy furrowed her brow as she tried to recall exactly what she had heard. Then she grabbed my right hand in her left hand and smiled at her mother, who was now definitely NOT smiling, in the back of the class. In fact, Claire had what I could only interpret as a look of mild panic on her face. Mindy then--without realizing what she was doing; with all the innocence of a child--lowered the boom.

"I heard Mr. Newman laughing as they came out of the office and he said Mommy was probably still the biggest SLUT and the best FUCK in town."

Following a couple of gasps from the adults, there was a moment of silence. Mindy said into the silence, "If my School Principal thinks Mommy is the biggest and best, then I want to be like her."

One or two of the boys in the class were giggling--they knew what the words meant. One of the second-grade girls was blushing furiously and looking at her desk. The rest of the kids were confused. The other adults in the class were shocked and looking now at Claire.

I stood there with a stone face and no expression, as far as I realized. Later, one of the parents would tell me that I had just looked disgusted, but not surprised.

Claire was looking shocked and afraid as she gazed briefly with her mouth open at her daughter; then, for some strange reason, at Carol; and, finally, at me. Mindy was rapidly losing her smile and comfort as she began to realize that she may have said something that was not pleasing either to her mother, me, the other adults, or her class.

Claire looked directly at me and her face took on a look of absolute anguish. She locked eyes with me and I knew that I could not hide the disappointment, the hurt, and the anger. She could also see that I was not as surprised or shocked as a normal husband would be at this revelation. I could see the dawning of recognition on her face that showed that she realized that I probably knew something related to Mindy's revelation. She sobbed once as tears began to leak out of her eyes.

All of this had transpired in a period of about ten-to-fifteen seconds. I saw Claire's lips move in what might have been, "I'm sorry." She was evidently truly mortified and stood. Then, with tears running down her cheeks, she made a dash for the door, pushing a couple of the parents out of her way in her flight.

I just stood there, watching her leave, without saying anything. After Claire had cleared the doorway, I stooped down and tried to reassure Mindy, who now looked both upset and frightened. "Honey, don't worry. You may have misunderstood Mr. Newman that day. Mommy is not really upset with you; so don't you worry about that. We are both glad that you are proud of your mommy and want to be like her. You and I will talk later, along with Mommy, and she and I will try to help you understand what is happening. Now, you go on back to your desk. I have to go and talk to Mommy for a minute or two and then I have to go back to work. Mommy and I will try to get over to Grandma Nan's to talk to you later."

Mindy was not entirely reassured that everything would be all right. The adults were acting too strangely after what she had said. She was pretty bright for a seven-year-old, so she knew that there was more to all of this. But she hugged me and smiled weakly as she walked back to her desk and sat down.

When I stood up, I felt Carol's presence right next to me. In a whisper, she said, "Wade; we need to talk. I will call you after school. Okay?" Carol now had what looked like an expression on her face that reflected something between simple resignation and emotional fatigue.

I nodded and said she could call me on my cell that afternoon or evening and I handed her one of my business cards with my office and cell numbers on it. I avoided looking at the other adults in the room as I walked out of the class on my way to the front exit of John Bankhead Magruder Elementary School and then out to my 4Runner in the front lot.

I saw Claire's Camry pulling out quickly and driving off. I sighed to myself and decided not to rush into traffic and try to follow her. After all, I could track her movements; and we both had cell phones. I'd let her worry for a while before I called her, and I would keep alert in case she called me.

I skipped lunch and just stayed in my office over the lunch hour. I had a one-o'clock appointment for a guy who wanted to establish a Uniform Gift to Minor's Act investment account for his six-month-old daughter. If he and his wife kept feeding money into that account steadily over the years, they would have enough to get the little girl through college without any debt from college loans on the back end. That would be a wonderful way to start their daughter out in her adult life, well ahead of her peers, financially. The UGMA account would save him and his wife a little bit of money in Federal taxes as well over the years.

After the meeting, I broke down and tried to call Claire's cell phone. The five times I tried over an hour's time--with all of them going directly to voice mail--told me that she had turned her cell phone off for now. She obviously did not want to talk to anyone--including me.

I tried to call her at work. A lady in the office said that Claire had not come back to the store after she had left for the school event. She said that Claire's father had called down about an hour ago to say that Claire had gotten in touch with him, saying she was not feeling well and would not be in for the rest of the day; and maybe for the following day either. Interesting, I thought.

I asked if she could transfer me to Claire's father's number. When Roger McNamee came on the line, I said, "Roger, this is Wade. Do you know where Claire is? I can't seem to reach her on her cell."

Her father hesitated for a moment before saying, "Hello, Wade. Claire called me and said she was leaving the school at around eleven. I thought she had been with you there, but she didn't say anything about that. She just sounded upset and said she was going to need some time off from work here at the store so that she could sort some things out in her mind and in her marriage. I didn't ask her for any details, but I can ask you. Do you know just what the hell has her so upset; are you two having trouble of some sort?"

I decided to tell a small lie. "We have our share of the typical difficulties that marriages experience once in a while, Roger. But there is nothing going on with us right now that can't be fixed, with a little time, and a lot of communication.

"All I know right now is that Mindy, in her childish innocence, said something in public today at school that was very embarrassing for Claire. But, instead of correcting Mindy and smoothing things over, Claire just bolted from the room and, I guess, from the school as well. I don't know where she went; and, evidently, she has her cell turned off. I just want to talk to her and see if we can sort out what our little Mindy said and try to set things right." I paused to let him respond.

Her father answered, "Wade, I don't know what to tell you. If she did not go home or come over here, then I have no idea what has become of her. But, please keep me and Nan informed and be sure to call us when you find her. Nan will be worried, especially with the kids here."

I assured Roger that I would find Claire and let him know when I did. He wished me luck, not knowing that I was not counting on luck alone. I had the GPS tracker for her car and I just needed to fire it up and locate her.

When I hung up, I went out to my 4Runner, turned on the ignition, and flipped the 'on' switch for the device. After a few seconds, the little location indicator beacon showed me where Claire's Camry was. At the moment, it was in motion, traveling along the main U.S. highway headed east out of town. She looked, from the scale indicator on the screen, to be about sixty miles out of town and still moving.

Just as I was about to pull out and try to follow her route, I got a beep on my cell phone. Looking at the screen, I saw that the call was from a local number, but the caller ID was blocked. Remembering Carol's promise to call this afternoon, I answered. "Hello."

"Wade," it was Carol Newman. "I had my teaching assistant fill in for me and take over for the last hour-and-a-half of school. I had to get out of there and call you. Can you meet me at Jimmy's?" Jimmy's was a popular bar at the west edge of town. I was irritated that I needed to talk to Carol and go west to do it, while my wife was traveling east and I needed to go after her as well. Before I could beg off talking to Carol, I noted that the GPS device had shown me that Claire's car was stationary now. I decided to risk it and told Carol that I would be at Jimmy's in about fifteen minutes. She said she'd be there.