Identity Issues (6 page)

"I have to get home."

"To hell with that. You’re coming. Who do I need to call? Your mom? A sitter?"

"My mom is dead. You know that. And I don’t have the energy to look for a sitter right now. Plus, it’s too early." I glanced at the wall clock. "The teens I know are in school."

"I’ll be back." Jack turned on his heels and advanced down the hall with ten yard strides.

I shrugged and sighed. Then, I pulled out my cell phone and perused my contacts. Nope. I didn’t see anyone there who I could call last minute and ask to bail me out of motherhood.

I returned to my Special Ed duties, unaware that Jack had taken control of my life. The result: the kids—all of the kids—enjoyed a sleep over that night with a friend and her children. And moi? I took a rare night off from motherhood, drank too much with my colleagues, and paid with a severe case of the queasies for the balance of the week–end. That’ll teach the teacher!

Di and I pulled into the school parking lot at the same time on Monday morning. I paused mid–stride when she announced, "Joey Stitsill came into my room before the bell on Friday."

"For what?" I asked as I resumed walking.

"He asked about you."

"Really? I wonder why."

"He seemed uneasy, even."

As the kids darted around us, I met her gaze.

"Depends on what his mom’s said to him, doesn’t it? Holy moly," I muttered as we headed for our respective classrooms.

I blinked in surprise when I noticed the young boy who stood at my closed classroom door. Not one of my students, but a real cutie.

I smiled at him. "Can I help you?"

"I just wanted to say hi," he said.

"Good morning," I answered, setting down my bags and unlocking my classroom door. "I’m Mrs. Stitsill, and you are?"

"Joey Stitsill," he said. He possessed dark, thick hair and black eyes—surely a tribute to his Mexican heritage. His confidence suggested a strong personality behind the good looks.

"Joey, I’ve heard nice things about you from your teachers. And we share the same last name. That’s quite a coincidence, isn’t it?"

I thought back to Di’s comments of a few minutes earlier. Joey had been asking questions. Guess he’d decided to come right to the source.

"Yeah. Do you think we’re related?" His intent gaze sparked my curiosity.

"No, honey, I don’t think we are," I answered. "Your mom and I have talked, and I think that there are just a lot of things that we have in common, but not any relatives. Why do you ask?"

"I just wondered," he said. "And I wanted to meet you." His teeth, some of the straightest and whitest I’d ever seen, gleamed in the early morning light.

"You’re at school early," I observed.

"Yep, I asked my mom to drop me off before school," he said. "I wanted to meet you."

"It’s my pleasure, Joey," I said. "Come and see me anytime. I love visitors."

Joey flashed another big, friendly kid smile. He threw his arms around me and held on tight. Surprised, I gave him a quick squeeze and a pat on the back.

"You’d better head down to the cafeteria now. I need to tend to a few things before the school day begins."

"Yes, ma’am," he agreed.

"Great meeting you," I said as he left my class.

"You, too," he answered.

He headed off down the hall and melted into the throng of students. To me, he seemed the picture perfect kid.

Teaching special education for my whole darned life has given me the opportunity to do lots of diagnostics. I’m the person who tests children for a multitude of disabilities. I size them up. Over the years, I’ve gotten pretty good at assessing their abilities, their personalities, and their areas of concern.

In the after moments of Joey’s surprise visit, I mentally ticked off the boxes in my head.

Impeccable manners. Engaging personality. Handsome. Intelligent and inquisitive, he knew how to take the initiative. There aren’t many sixth grade boys who’d introduce himself to a teacher for personal reasons. Maybe he, too, wondered if I’d been married to his dad. Perhaps he questioned his history. Or did I represent a link to his dad? More food for thought.

T
UESDAY SUCKS. THE day drags. Staff meetings occur on Tuesdays. After school. A staff meeting on Tuesday makes the week feel eons long.

We collected our meeting agendas as we headed into the room, taking our seats and waiting for Miller, our fearless leader, to begin. We went through the usual boring announcements about standardized testing dates, the importance of reliable results and high scores. Blah, blah, blah. We were all thinking about getting out of there. Nothing more.

"Next on the agenda," Miller boomed, "you will see that we have a parent request for a tutor from our staff. Mrs. Stitsill, Joey’s mom, has some concerns about his academics. She would like a staff member, someone familiar with our curriculum and routines, to work with him. I know that, most of the time, you receive these requests from individual parents, but Mrs. Stitsill called me, so I wanted to pass the word along for her."

With a single, silent glance, Di and I exchanged a thousand words. I wanted her to volunteer. I knew I couldn’t do it. Mrs. Stitsill would be suspicious of me.

"Can you do it?" I whispered.

"Shhh. I’ve got it."

Diane raised her hand. "Excuse me, Mr. Miller. Does this mother expect someone to come to her house? Is she looking for remedial instruction or just a homework helper? Also, how much is she willing to pay?"

The room exhaled a collective chuckle. Asking any of us to tutor after an already long school day would require some serious cash. Not one of us got paid enough for our day job.

Diane’s ploy worked. By making the job less attractive, she secured it for herself. She flashed me a grin and a wink. Miller moved on with his agenda. When the meeting ended she scurried out the door.

"Mr. Miller, Mr. Miller, wait." Diane chased him down the hall. "I’m serious about the tutoring job. I’m looking to earn a little extra cash." Diane had won sole custody of her home after her divorce.

"I’m not sure how much Mrs. Stitsill is willing to pay. You’d have to speak to her. But you are the first and only person to show any interest, so I’ll pass along your name and number to her if you’d like."

I followed close behind, straining to hear each and every word.

"Mr. Miller?" I spoke up. "Has anyone offered to tutor the Stitsill boy yet?"

"Sorry, Samantha, you’re a moment too late. Mrs. Rossi has just offered. You know how I handle things. First one out of the gate gets the job."

"Sure, I understand. Good luck, Di."

"Thanks, Mr. Miller," Di said. "You can have her call me, or I can call her. You decide. Have a good night."

As Miller walked into his office, Diane caught up with me. She high–fived me as we turned the corner.

"You were amazing," I told her.

"Thanks." She sashayed her way down the hall.

"You’re proud of yourself, aren’t you?"

"Very. Besides, I have a good feeling about this," Di said. "We can get more information. Joey will be a great resource, and he won’t even know it."

"Di, he seems like a really good kid. He’s well–behaved, a hard–worker, and clean." Diane’s a little OCD.

She smiled. "It’s fun to have a little adventure in our lives, don’t you think? You can’t do it, and Mrs. Stitsill doesn’t know me from Adam. It’ll be perfect."

Jack met up with us as we made our way into Di’s classroom. "What are you two up to this time?"

Diane couldn’t stop giggling.

I played innocent. "She’s dreaming of beer, and you know how easy it is to get her tanked." I rolled my eyes.

"Staff meetings will do that to you," Jack mumbled as he headed past us.

"See you in the morning, Jack," we chorused.

Diane and Joey planned to meet on Tuesday’s right after school. It provided an added bonus for her. She’d get out of staff meetings, which she hated. While she didn’t know Joey well, he had a reputation as an absolute pleasure, and Di loved bright kids. Di assessed him as a student with no learning problems, and she couldn’t figure out why his mom thought he needed tutoring. He proved industrious, and Diane didn’t mind supervising, or the extra money she earned.

As time passed, Di gave me the scoop. Joey talked a lot about his home life. Close to his brother, Emilio, the two boys enjoyed skateboarding, video games, and reading. Both had numerous points in our Accelerated Reader Program, which rewarded kids who read for pleasure. Di said she wished she had a classroom of kids like Joey and his brother.

Di and Joey became fast friends. They fell into a comfortable routine, and the pressure his mom put on Joey eased. Week in and week out, they met for precisely one hour after school. Mom’s happiness with the arrangement continued through the end of the school year.

Life hummed along at both the Stitsill homes. Almost too good to be true.

Diane continued to tutor Joey each Tuesday after school. Rosita popped in occasionally, and she appeared happy with his progress.

Joey shared his daily travails with Diane. Other than normal sibling squabbles, she drew the conclusion that little out of the ordinary happened at home. We still suspected there was more to this story than met the eye, but we didn’t go looking for trouble either.

Soon after Christmas, I lingered in the office and overheard the secretary on the phone.

"Oh, Mrs. Stitsill, I’m so sorry. Please let us know if there’s anything we can do on our end to help you," Yolanda said.

"Is everything alright?" I tried to maintain a casual approach as I gathered my mail and poked around the reception area.

"I’m not sure," she said. "That was Joey Stitsill’s mom. She’s not been feeling well and has to go into the hospital for a few days. She just wanted to alert us since the boys will be staying with friends. As you know, she keeps close tabs on her boys."

"Well, let me know if you hear any more," I told her. "The poor woman. Nothing like being sick and having to worry about her children on top of it all."

"I know." She nodded as she finished the note to Joey’s teachers.

Later when I saw Diane, I mentioned what I had heard about Rosita.

Clearly surprised, she said, "Joey hasn’t mentioned anything."

"Maybe she doesn’t want to worry the boys," I said.

"I’ll see what I can find out. Give me a few days. I won’t see him again until next week."

"Don’t ask him anything directly. We don’t want to worry him if there’s no need."

"I’ll be careful," she agreed.

I knew better than to tell her not to push Joey. She and I shared the same low–key style with our students.

Before Di’s next encounter with Joey, I ran into Yolanda again in the office.

"Hey, Sam," she said. "Do you have a minute?"

"Sure."

"I heard from Mrs. Stitsill this morning. She has cancer."

"Oh my gosh, no. Is it serious? Did she say?" My insides churned.

"Cancer of the stomach. She’s scheduled for aggressive treatment, starting with surgery, then radiation and chemo."

"Did she say anything else? About her chances? I know you couldn’t ask her, but did she say?" Rosita was my link to the Stitsill mystery. I needed her to be okay. Selfish? Yes, but I couldn’t help myself.

"Not really. She sounded pretty mechanical. I can’t imagine…" Her voice trailed off.

"Me, either." I shook my head in disbelief. "Thanks for letting me know."

When I told Diane, she looked shocked. "Let me see what I can find out."

Di called me that evening. "I saw Joey after school today."

"Really?"

"I asked him how his mom’s doing, and he said fine. I’m not sure if he even knows what’s going on. He didn’t seem aware or curious when I asked about her."

"I don’t think the boys have any other family besides their mom. Have you ever heard them mention anyone?" I asked.

"Joey mentioned his grandma in Mexico one time, but not more than to say that she lived there. He hasn’t ever spoken about her visiting or about going there to see her."

"Let’s just pray that everything turns out well."

"Absolutely," Diane replied.

W
HEN DI ASKED me to go out after work on a school night, and then spend the night at her place, uneasiness stirred. I never left the kids. Only Jon did.

What would they do without me? Would Jon be able to help them get homework done, bathe and tuck them all in at night? By himself? What about the next morning? Would he be able to get them breakfast, dressed, and to the bus stop on time?

Jon urged me to go and enjoy myself. It didn’t take a lot of arm twisting.

Di and I decided to make an evening of it. We drove to
Marciano’s
, a great little Italian spot near the river for dinner. Hypnotized by the midday sun’s reflection on the rippling pools, we ordered a bottle of Chianti. We devoured our pasta, enjoying thick slices of crusty white bread dipped in olive oil as we gossiped about our colleagues and Diane’s recently dumped love interest. Before too long our bottle of Chianti emptied, and the sun faded to dusk.

After dinner, we talked non–stop as we leisurely walked the path along the river. Our meandering led us into a little dive of a bar called
Purr–fect Ending
.

"Can you handle cats?" No pun intended, but cat décor littered the place.

"Beer is beer anywhere," Di joked.

We spotted a little Formica table in the back with a couple of vinyl seated chairs. It was only nine o’clock, and we didn’t have to be back to work until seven the next morning.

We lost track of time, exhausting all of our girl talk before the topic switched to the Stitsill boys.

"Joey’s great. I hope when I have kids, I have a boy just like him," Di mused.

"You’re such a softie."

"No." She shook her head. "It’s not just that. He’s really touched a very special place in my heart. Maybe it’s because he lost his dad when he was so young, and I know how he feels. He has such an innocent strength about him. It’s hard to describe."