The Homecoming

  And of course Phil was busy. Too busy. A million things on his desk, every last one of them urgent. “Well, I’m going to have to place a call to DHS to report suspected abuse, so when do you think you can fit me in?” she asked.

  “Now,” he said. He ejected a couple of supervisors from his office and got behind his desk. “I hope to God this is a waste of time,” he said.

  “I’m afraid not. Believe me, I’d like that as much as you, but I was not looking for a reason to call DHS. In fact, I feel forced into it.”

  “Give it to me straight.”

  So she did. She didn’t name Troy, even though he had invited her to do so. “A teacher brought the suspicions to my attention and I took the appropriate action—I looked into it and sought the assistance of the girl’s athletic director. She’s in a position to see the girls when they’re dressed out for gym or for practice. She not only sees more skin when they’re wearing their PE uniforms, she also sees them in comparison to each other and whether one of them seems to have an unusually large number of visible injuries.”

  Iris described the suspicious injuries, her conversations with Cammie and Rachel and, finally, the hostility between Brett and Rachel. Phil listened, occasionally shaking his head.

  When she was finished he said, “Fuck.”

  She cleared her throat. “That’s four hours of detention, Phil.”

  “Right now I’d like to take it right up to twelve. So, you report. What next?”

  “I don’t know what they’ll decide. If they think I’m on to something, they’ll investigate. They’ll interview, require medical evaluations, who knows? But I’m a mandatory reporter. If I fail to report this, not only could I lose my credentials, but the school could be in trouble. But please understand this, Phil. Reporting gives us an opportunity to keep the girl safe and that’s the priority. I want her safe. I think she’s in trouble.”

  “Then you have no choice,” Phil told her. “This is what we do. It’s called intervention.”

  “Why didn’t I address this problem? It’s not uncommon! We put together special programs for driving safely, for identifying diseases, the dangers of drugs, educating them about safe sex, for identifying and reporting bullying, for taking tests fairly, for the love of God! There are even survival courses—what to do if you’re caught drifting out to sea or lost in the woods! Why didn’t we address unsafe dating? What’s the number-one concern of every young girl and boy in this school, huh, Phil? It’s who they can date and whether they can get that date!”

  “We do a good job, Iris. If we can’t think of everything under the sun, I’ll take the blame.”

  “Crap, it’s not about blame. It’s about being awake. I’m sorry, Phil—I should have been more aware.”

  He smiled at her gently. “I’m proud of what you do, Iris. Now go make your call and let me know what the follow-up will be. Let’s just be grateful we’ve come this far without a need for this before. At least while you and I have had the watch.”

  “That we know of,” she said. “I’ll let you know.”

  “Oh, Iris, who was the teacher?”

  She hesitated. “He said I could use his name, but I’d prefer to shoulder responsibility for this for now. If we need him to back up the complaint...”

  “Ah, Troy,” Phil said. “You know, I almost didn’t hire him? His résumé was spotty—a vet who did an Iraq tour, taught a couple of years in a private school where they’re not all that fussy about credentials, and a desire to live up here where the air is clean and the rafting and skiing plentiful. A kid.” He laughed and shook his head. “I didn’t think he was all that serious about teaching. He’s one of the best teachers I’ve got. In spite of all his talk about his off-campus adventures, he’s one of the most dedicated teachers here.”

  That made Iris smile. “I know. He’s priceless. I want him to get his counseling credentials and work in my office.”

  Phil chuckled. “Good luck with that. I think he’ll be on the slopes, not going back to school in his free time. What’s his game? Snowboarding or skiing?”

  “I don’t really know,” she said.

  “Well, it was a lucky day I was so short-staffed he got the job before I even had a chance to take a closer look at him. So go—make your call. I’ll be anxious to hear what comes next.”

  * * *

  Iris was somewhat disappointed but not entirely surprised by the response. She spoke to a case worker who specialized in dating abuse. First, the woman gave Iris the statistics, which were awful. Then she outlined the procedure—the investigation and interviews of those involved, including the families of the teenagers. She listed several academic articles on the subject, many of which Iris remembered reading in her own case studies in postgrad counseling. And finally, she gave her the bad news.

  “It’s a busy time and I’m only one person,” Connie Franklin said. “I’ll certainly follow up at my earliest available time, bearing in mind we’re coming into the holidays. Holidays for some families are harder than for others and I’m in demand. But I will follow up and I’ll keep your name out of it while I can.”

  “They’re going to know at once,” Iris said. “As I said, I interviewed the girl and her best friend. They’ll know it was me.”

  “The risk of our jobs, I’m afraid,” Connie said.

  “Listen, make your life simple—call Dr. Scott Grant. The girl had a concussion that was supposed to have been caused by slipping on an icy step. I don’t remember any ice-over in Thunder Point. That doesn’t mean her front step wasn’t icy, but it bears looking at. Dr. Grant admitted her to the hospital. I assume emergency workers and hospital employees are also mandatory reporters and should have investigated the possibility of abuse.”

  “I’ll do that. In the meantime, if anything more comes up, do call me. When things like this escalate from reporting to emergency, this agency can move mountains.”

  “I don’t know if I want that or not,” Iris said.

  “I understand completely.”

  “How do you do it? Take complaints like this daily and pursue them?”

  “The same way you do, Iris. One minute at a time.”

  * * *

  Iris was nestled into Seth’s arms late at night when she told him about the day.

  “I’ve never had this before,” she said. “I’ve never had a lover who cared about my boring high school life.”

  “I’m a little glad about that,” he said.

  “Something has really bothered me all day. Girls aren’t the only ones who get abused. Boys get emotionally abused by girls all the time, and usually they don’t know it. Sometimes women are physically abusive.”

  He chuckled. “You’re talking about me,” he said.

  “Seth, I hit you! I knocked you down! You could have filed charges, taken me to jail. I hit you!”

  “How many men have you hit, Iris?”

  “I think only you. I can’t remember another one. Since I was ten, anyway. But it’s so wrong. I was complaining to Phil that I hadn’t put together a program about abuse and what to do about it and it came to me that I was an awful kid.”

  “I don’t know about that. You thought you were a boy for a long time. Listen, kids get into it, strike out. Then they get disciplined and taught that you can’t solve problems by hitting and hopefully through that, along with good examples, they learn that isn’t the answer. That it’s wrong.”

  “But I hit you a couple of months ago.”

  “Got off a good one, too,” he said, laughing. “I’m not letting you do that again, by the way.”

  “I could’ve hurt you.”

  “No offense, Iris, but you hit like a girl.”

  “We should do better. Of all people, I should know better than to lash out like that.”

  He nuzzled her neck. “I
admit, I’m completely surprised to find out you’re human. Welcome to the club.”

  “Do you have anyone to talk to, Seth? To tell your feelings to? To complain to, to get sympathy from?”

  “Huh?” he asked.

  She took a breath. “Boys can be so much more alone than girls. Girls dump on their girlfriends, their mothers, sometimes teachers. But it takes a lot for a boy to do that, to admit he’s worried or afraid or anything.”

  “It doesn’t seem to be part of our training. We’re trained from an early age to be tough and stoic.”

  “When I was in my postgrad program, part of the training was a volunteer assignment in one of the help centers. I worked on a crisis line. We had a guy call in. He said he was leaving the next morning for the trip of a lifetime, a vacation he’d looked forward to all his life. He said he was so excited he couldn’t sleep. It was after midnight. The supervisor was listening in and we were all sure there must be something more to this call. We kept him on the phone for over two hours, asking him key questions, pretty convinced he must be suicidal or something. Who calls a crisis line in the middle of the night to talk about his trip? Well, it turned out he was just a guy taking the trip of a lifetime, something he’d saved for and planned for years. And he called the crisis line because he didn’t have anyone else to talk to. He didn’t have anyone he could tell.”

  Seth rose up on an elbow and looked down at her. “Thursday is Thanksgiving. I’m taking part of the day off—first time I’ve had Thanksgiving with my whole family in years. I look forward to it because you’re going to be there. We’re dividing up the schedule on Thursday and Friday—I’ll work till about four, spell the guys for long meal breaks so they can be with their families. But after that, I’m taking the weekend off. I want to take you somewhere. I have someone I want you to meet.”

  “Who?” she asked.

  “Someone I talk to. Now let it go. Be surprised.”

  * * *

  Iris couldn’t remember when she’d last been so nervous and excited about Thanksgiving. She’d had many a holiday meal with the Sileskis, Seth being away or working for the larger share of them over the past sixteen years or so. She knew everyone in the family. But this time she was a guest with a new status. This time she was Seth’s significant other.

  She worked it out with Gwen what she could contribute and had been assigned sweet potato pie, which turned out to be a challenge. Gwen’s daughter-in-law, Sandy, was bringing the green bean casserole, some kind of mushroom dish that she said everyone hated but Sandy couldn’t live without and a cranberry-and-orange mold filled with nuts and marshmallows. Gwen was taking on the turkey, potatoes and trimmings.

  Iris went next door early, hoping she could help with other chores like setting the table, washing up serving dishes that were rarely used, anything. Of course, Seth was not there yet. He was watching the town. But Gwen was in a dither, waddling around the house like Edith Bunker. She wanted everything to be perfect.

  “It looks like it is perfect, Gwen. What can I do to help?” Iris asked.

  “There’s nothing. I haven’t been this worked up over Thanksgiving since Boomer brought Sandy to meet us! And that was at least fifteen years ago.” She twisted her hands a little bit. “I want it to be perfect.”

  “Go put the final touches on your hair,” Iris said. “I’ll guard the food. It’s always perfect.”

  Twenty minutes later they descended, almost all at once. Iris heard voices outside and opened the front door. Boomer’s SUV was parked in front and his wife and kids got out, all carrying something for dinner. Nick had pulled up right behind them as if he’d followed them to Thunder Point. Norm was just parking in the drive, still wearing his blue jacket with his name on it as if he’d had to work right up to the last second before sitting down to his meal. And then she saw Seth. He was walking across the yard from her house. Could he be more obvious? His deputy vehicle was parked in her drive and he was coming over in a change of clothes.

  Norm shook hands with Boomer, kissed Sandy, ruffled the hair of his grandchildren, shook hands with Nick, shook hands with Seth, and then they all walked to the front door en masse.

  “Iris,” Norm said with a nod.

  “It was only a matter of time,” Boomer said, giving her a kiss on the cheek.

  “He finally woke up,” Nick said, grinning broadly and giving her a big bear hug.

  “Iris, I’m so happy,” Sandy said, her hands full with a casserole dish.

  “Hey, Iris,” twelve-year-old Sonny said, passing her and walking into the house.

  “Hi, Iris,” nine-year-old Sylvie said, grinning, heading for her grandmother’s kitchen.

  Seth was last. He smiled and looked into her eyes. “How’s your day, sweetheart?” he said, bending to put a gentle kiss on her lips.

  “I think it might be okay now,” she said.

  “It’s going to be okay from now on,” he said. “Can I help with anything?”

  “Keep your brothers from teasing me,” she said.

  “Baby, I can’t do anything about them. I’ve tried.”

  This was the Sileski clan. They sat down to dinner within thirty minutes. Despite some wifely badgering, Norm didn’t change clothes. He washed up a little, but he wore his blue gas station shirt with his name sewn over the pocket. The kids wouldn’t wait for grace to be said, they were diving into the food even though their mother warned them they’d live to regret it. It took a long time for Gwen to sit—she was circling and hovering over the table, ready to provide anything that might be missing. Norm carved, Boomer passed heavy platters, Sandy fussed at the kids about manners, Nick grinned his handsome bad-boy grin and Gwen didn’t sit until Norm said, “Woman, you’re making me dizzy.”

  “If there’s going to be a wedding, we’ll need some notice,” Boomer said to Iris. “I have to get my suit let out and Sandy has to lose ten pounds.”

  “Boomer!” Sandy scolded.

  “What, honey? I keep getting fatter and you always want to lose ten pounds. I’m just saying...”

  It was perfect.

  Late that night, finally in the comfort of her bedroom, Seth pronounced the day a success. Even Norm had been reasonably docile.

  “I think it took ten years off your poor mother’s life,” Iris said. “I know why I was nervous—being presented as a girlfriend for the first time. I don’t know why she was nervous.”

  “My mother has wanted the perfect family for as long as I can remember. What she got was a cranky husband and three scrappy boys. She deserves better.”

  “You have a nice family,” she said. “And I saw Norm smile twice.”

  “It was probably just gas.”

  * * *

  On Friday morning Seth went in to work first thing, but Iris had the day off. It was hard to leave the bed. Waking up with Seth was still a miracle to her and it was tempting to just lie there and daydream about him. Almost every day she had to ask herself, is this really happening to me? Is the one man I’ve always loved really mine?

  She could not indulge in the warm sheets long—it was a busy day in town, a day she used to look forward to when her mother was alive. It was the day that everyone, particularly the business district, joined forces to decorate the town. And it looked like they had a beautiful day for it. For once the sun was shining.

  It was still early by the time she walked into town, but she was far from the first to arrive. There were dozens of people on the street and most of the decorations had already been pulled out of attics, storage sheds, garages and basements. Mac was standing in front of the diner with Seth, both of them enjoying a cup of coffee on the street while Gina was sorting through decorations. A cherry picker stood at the ready in the street, garland, wreaths and red plastic candles organized to put up on the lampposts.

  To her surprise, Grace was pulling he
r shop decorations through the front door.

  Iris said good morning to Mac and Gina, accepted a little shoulder squeeze from Seth and then made her way down the block to the flower shop. “What are you doing here?” she asked Grace. “I thought you were skiing!”

  “I decided to pass on that. I hate missing decoration day.”

  “But what did you do? Where did you have Thanksgiving dinner? Why didn’t you join me at the Sileskis?”

  “Oh, that was a family day and you were breaking the ice with them—appearing in your new role as Seth’s sex slave....”

  “Shh!” Iris said, looking around to see if they’d been overheard.

  Grace laughed. “I had a very indulgent day planned for myself, but in fact I was kidnapped. I went by Carrie’s late Wednesday to see if she had any holiday dishes for takeout, particularly dressing and gravy, and she interrogated me. When I told her I wanted to stay in my pajamas all day, eating and watching chick flicks, she wouldn’t have it. She demanded that I join her at the McCains’. In fact, she picked me up to be sure I’d be there. She had Rawley with her. She seems to always have Rawley with her. We took most of the side dishes to the McCains’. She had gone out there early to put the turkey in and she served a feast so incredible I almost had to be carried out. There were sixteen for dinner! Al from the gas station, Ray Anne and the three boys were there as well as Mac’s aunt Lou and her husband, Joe. It was quite a party. In fact, Lou and Joe escaped before charades began and gave me a lift home. Thank God. I managed to get in two chick flicks.”

  “What about Troy?”

  “I guess he went skiing. When I told him I just couldn’t make it he said it was my loss and I’d be lucky if he asked me again. But he said it nicely.”

  “Well, if you get another chance, let me know. I have stuff you can borrow.” Then a thought struck her. “You know, you and Troy look good together.”

  “Iris,” Grace said. “If I want your help, I’ll ask for it.”

  “Well, do you want help with the shop decorations?”

  “I could do with some help on that.”