Read Online What You Remember I Did by Janet Berliner, Janet & Tem Berliner - Free Book Online
Authors: Janet Berliner, Janet & Tem Berliner
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morning, having apparently mulled things over, Catherine took hold of her shoulders. Shaking her a little, she instructed, "Don't judge him too hastily."
"Have to go, Mom." Nan kissed the top of her mother's head. "I might be home a little late today."
"Oh?" Catherine's face brightened and took on a coy expression.
"Don't get your hopes up. It's not Matt. One of my best students has made it to the semi-finals of the regional singles competition and I need to be there."
"Oh, Nan, why? I get lonely when you're not here."
"I'll be home for dinner, don't worry. How would it look if I didn't attend an at-home match? And I like Ida. I promised to go out for coffee afterward with her and the boyfriend she talks about all the time."
"Ah." Catherine sighed. "Love."
Nan groaned. "Love is not all it's cracked up to be."
"Yes, it is!" Catherine called after her, and Nan found she was smiling despite herself. Being her mother's caregiver was by no means easy, but she couldn'tâdidn't want toâimagine life without her.
She glided through the school day feeling more relaxed than she had in a week. The cliché was right, she thought. Fighting the devil you know is a lot easier than fighting a phantom. After finishing her daily paperwork, she headed for the tournament courts with something resembling a pleasant sense of anticipation.
Four rows of bleachers had been set up around the court. Nan seated herself in the space reserved for her. She moved one of the two hand-written "Taken" signs lying on the bench to her right closer to where she was sitting, designating both spaces, and went to speak to Ida and wish her luck before the warm-up. They hugged. "He's up there. Next to you," Ida whispered in her ear.
"Who?"
"My boyfriend."
Nan turned. "You have good taste," she said, looking at Peter Sanchez, resplendent in a white Aran -style cable knit sweater. Next to him sat Matt Mullen. The young man waved and poked Matt in the ribs. The poet waved feebly. "What's Dr. Mullen doing here?" Nan could feel her temper rising, much of it at her own stupidity in thinking Peter had found her attractive or, heaven forefend, had been in Matt's office for business other than poetry.
"Peter's in his class. I am, too. I thought it might be nice if he came out with us afterwards, so I asked Peter to ask himâ" Ida's voice trailed off. "Did I do something bad?"
Nan reorganized her facial expression. The last thing Ida needed was an extra reason to feel nervous. "Of course not." She forced herself to smile. "Now go out there and show them who you are."
When she returned to her seat Matt greeted her warmly and she gave a civil response. Moving to a different spot would have made an unnecessary fuss and felt like some sort of concession.
Ida played brilliantly. Nan applauded after each good shot, every strong serve, but, though she was proud of her, she could not focus on the match. Every so often, a student stopped to greet her or Matt. Struck by his personal response to them and by their obvious affection and respect for him, she couldn't help thinking that a man like him could not possibly have done what he was accused of doing, then reminded herself that child molesters could and usually did look and act like everybody else.
In a break between sets Peter went off to get refreshments for the three of them, and suddenly things were very awkward indeed. Matt tried a couple of innocuous conversational gambitsâIda's skill on the court, about which they'd already said everything there was to say; how his end-of-semester responsibilities as visiting Prof compared and contrasted with hers as tenured faculty. She responded politely. Finally he turned to face her squarely. "Are we going to resolve this, Nan?"
"I don't know. I don't know if it can be resolved."
"But there's something happening between us. Something special. You feel it, too. I know you do."
She yearned to take him in her arms. Instead, she kept as far away from him
"Have to go, Mom." Nan kissed the top of her mother's head. "I might be home a little late today."
"Oh?" Catherine's face brightened and took on a coy expression.
"Don't get your hopes up. It's not Matt. One of my best students has made it to the semi-finals of the regional singles competition and I need to be there."
"Oh, Nan, why? I get lonely when you're not here."
"I'll be home for dinner, don't worry. How would it look if I didn't attend an at-home match? And I like Ida. I promised to go out for coffee afterward with her and the boyfriend she talks about all the time."
"Ah." Catherine sighed. "Love."
Nan groaned. "Love is not all it's cracked up to be."
"Yes, it is!" Catherine called after her, and Nan found she was smiling despite herself. Being her mother's caregiver was by no means easy, but she couldn'tâdidn't want toâimagine life without her.
She glided through the school day feeling more relaxed than she had in a week. The cliché was right, she thought. Fighting the devil you know is a lot easier than fighting a phantom. After finishing her daily paperwork, she headed for the tournament courts with something resembling a pleasant sense of anticipation.
Four rows of bleachers had been set up around the court. Nan seated herself in the space reserved for her. She moved one of the two hand-written "Taken" signs lying on the bench to her right closer to where she was sitting, designating both spaces, and went to speak to Ida and wish her luck before the warm-up. They hugged. "He's up there. Next to you," Ida whispered in her ear.
"Who?"
"My boyfriend."
Nan turned. "You have good taste," she said, looking at Peter Sanchez, resplendent in a white Aran -style cable knit sweater. Next to him sat Matt Mullen. The young man waved and poked Matt in the ribs. The poet waved feebly. "What's Dr. Mullen doing here?" Nan could feel her temper rising, much of it at her own stupidity in thinking Peter had found her attractive or, heaven forefend, had been in Matt's office for business other than poetry.
"Peter's in his class. I am, too. I thought it might be nice if he came out with us afterwards, so I asked Peter to ask himâ" Ida's voice trailed off. "Did I do something bad?"
Nan reorganized her facial expression. The last thing Ida needed was an extra reason to feel nervous. "Of course not." She forced herself to smile. "Now go out there and show them who you are."
When she returned to her seat Matt greeted her warmly and she gave a civil response. Moving to a different spot would have made an unnecessary fuss and felt like some sort of concession.
Ida played brilliantly. Nan applauded after each good shot, every strong serve, but, though she was proud of her, she could not focus on the match. Every so often, a student stopped to greet her or Matt. Struck by his personal response to them and by their obvious affection and respect for him, she couldn't help thinking that a man like him could not possibly have done what he was accused of doing, then reminded herself that child molesters could and usually did look and act like everybody else.
In a break between sets Peter went off to get refreshments for the three of them, and suddenly things were very awkward indeed. Matt tried a couple of innocuous conversational gambitsâIda's skill on the court, about which they'd already said everything there was to say; how his end-of-semester responsibilities as visiting Prof compared and contrasted with hers as tenured faculty. She responded politely. Finally he turned to face her squarely. "Are we going to resolve this, Nan?"
"I don't know. I don't know if it can be resolved."
"But there's something happening between us. Something special. You feel it, too. I know you do."
She yearned to take him in her arms. Instead, she kept as far away from him
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