Unlovely (28 page)

Claudia's first acquaintance with Mrs.
Tomlinson had taken place at an alumnae-faculty luncheon, shortly before she
had begun her relationship with Peter. They had been placed next to one another
at long tables out on the lawn, toward the head of the table, and the noise
level was such that it would have been difficult for them to have conversed
with anyone but one another.

As it turned out, Mrs. Tomlinson had
spent a semester in Germany herself as a student.

"I used to be moderately fluent. I
certainly didn't speak like a native," she conceded, “but the German boys
attached to our group told me I had an adorable accent. Perhaps I was foolish
to believe them, but I still chose to. Of course I can't speak a word of it
now. Pity, isn't it, to let a language drop like that? I should be
ashamed."

Of the foods that were served to them,
they liked and disliked the same ones, preferring the mushrooms to the
potatoes, the chicken to the cod. They both agreed that girls were far too
sophisticated for their own good these days, although the majority of girls at
Jameson were an exception to the trend, and that the situation in the Middle
East was troubling. In short, they seemed to have a great deal in common and
they got along famously.

During a lull between the main course
and dessert, Claudia had asked Mrs. Tomlinson if she were proud of having a son
teaching at her alma mater. That was all the prompting Mrs. Tomlinson needed:

"Of course. I'm very pleased. I
used to bring him here with me when he was just a little thing and I was more
active in the Alumnae Club. Make no mistake, he was a handful. The really
bright ones always are, though, don't you think? Sometimes they're just too
clever to behave, at least that's what I would tell Peter's father."

Once begun on the subject of her son she
would have been hard-pressed to abandon it, and Claudia didn't interrupt: Mrs.
Tomlinson began her narrative with Peter's infancy, worked her way up to broken
bones and general naughtiness, recounted college hopes dashed and resurrected,
and closed with a substantial list of kindnesses Peter routinely showed his
siblings, his grandparents, and her.

"Do you know he still calls me at
the same time every single week? No matter where he is or what he's been doing.
He's a fine young man. Oh! What am I saying? He's forty years old!" she
laughed. After taking a sip of her second Pink Squirrel, she lowered her voice
to a confidential pitch. "I do wish he would finally settle down and find
a nice woman, though, before I'm too old to enjoy my grandchildren. For the
life of me, I don't know what he's waiting for. He's very attractive, don't you
think? Well, of course you'll agree with me, won't you? But I believe,
objectively speaking, that he's a very handsome man. I really do. I'm not
saying that just because he's my son. He looks just like his father, and his
father was quite good-looking. He makes a fair salary here, too, after all
these years. It's not outstanding, certainly, but you faculty members do get
your housing subsidized, and of course he has a trust fund to draw upon and
substantial investments, so there would never be money worries."

Mrs. Tomlinson paused to sip again.
"I wonder what he's waiting for. Why are people getting married so much
later these days? Are you married, Claudia?"

Claudia smiled and shook her head.

"No? You see, here you are, a
lovely young woman, right here on campus, and does he make any effort in your
direction? No? Well, of course not. He never does. That's just the way he is.
It's maddening. He never takes the initiative to go out and find a nice girl.
You know, he's not getting any younger. He really should be settled down by
now." She sighed wistfully and reached for her water glass. "How I
wish my Peter would find a nice young lady and start a family. You understand,
don't you, Miss Milford?"

Claudia had remained attentively mute,
smiling and nodding. For once she didn't trust herself to speak for fear of
agreeing too enthusiastically with the older lady's sentiments. It was like a
sign from above: Claudia had been thinking a romance with Peter since his
faculty lounge pop-in, and now his own mother had suggested it! Not just
suggested it – she’d all but offered Claudia the family heirlooms. Mrs.
Tomlinson's sales pitch had been excellent; it would have been persuasive even
if Claudia hadn't been predisposed to pursue Peter.

At this point, Claudia had expected Mrs.
Tomlinson to offer her some concrete advice on how to accomplish a romantic
relationship with Peter, or at least to bring him over to chat, but instead
she'd changed the subject to Earl Grey tea versus plain old English breakfast;
it would have been awkward to steer it back to the more interesting topic, so
that was the end of it. Nonetheless, Claudia had found the episode
heartening.
 
In her plan to seduce Peter
Tomlinson, she could be confident of his mother's imprimatur.

Now, as Claudia dragged a comb through
her hair, fighting tangles every inch of the way, she thought back on that
fateful conversation and realized she had been ignoring the best tool in her
kit. If there were ever an ally in Claudia's fight for Peter's attentions, it
would be Mrs. Tomlinson.

Claudia wondered if Peter had been
sharing the progress of their relationship with his mother over the past
several months. It seemed probable Claudia's name would have come up in their
weekly phone calls. If so, there was reason to hope Mrs. Tomlinson had been
gently urging him on all along. Perhaps, as well, Peter had told his mother
about Vanessa, about how he was torn between something complex and real and
something fun and casual. Claudia felt sure that a simple description of
Vanessa would have led Mrs. Tomlinson to a correct assessment of the
promiscuous little chit, and that Mrs. Tomlinson would have tried to steer
Peter in the right direction.

But what if Peter had called his mother
last night or the night before, and shared with her Vanessa's damnable lies?
That was an alarming thought. Perhaps Mrs. Tomlinson believed the calumny, or
perhaps, even now, she was as confused and concerned as Claudia was about how
this relationship, which had been so promising, was now in jeopardy.

Claudia sensed it was in her best
interest to act with alacrity before the well was poisoned beyond salvage. She
needed to get in touch with Mrs. Tomlinson as soon as possible. Her phone
number would be easy to retrieve from the front office staff, but
unfortunately, they had left for the day. Claudia was going to have to wait
until the next morning to begin repairing this mess.

She skipped dinner in the dining hall
that evening, and warmed a can of soup on her tiny stove instead, eating it
with a piece of buttered bread and a glass of mineral water. She read the front
section of an old issue of
Der Spiegel
(Claudia had persuaded the
librarian to get a subscription – wonderful "live" language for her
students), brushed her teeth, made sure all the girls were tucked in for the
night, and was in bed by ten- thirty. She drifted off to sleep almost
immediately after pulling the covers to her chin, confident that everything
would be back on track within twenty-four hours.

After almost three weeks in the mental hospital,
Claudia was given a pass to leave campus for an afternoon. Sylvia had offered
to take her daughter out, but Claudia demurred with many apologies. An
afternoon with Sylvia would not be therapeutic. She requested Melanie instead.

Melanie met Claudia in the lobby with a
hug and led her out to her car. They drove a couple of miles until they found a
Denny's, where they were seated in a back booth. Claudia looked around the room
and wondered if she was obviously a mental patient, if everyone knew just by
looking at her that she was out on a madwoman's holiday. It was odd to be among
the living.

"So are you hungry?" Melanie
asked, her face disappearing behind the enormous menu.

"Oh, yes," Claudia answered.
"I hope you've brought a lot of money with you. I'm planning to do some
serious eating."

"The sky's the limit."

The waitress took their orders, brought
their pots of tea almost at once, and their omelets shortly after.

"You look really good,"
Melanie said.

Claudia speared a potato. "I look
better, you mean. I don't look good. I have a long way to go."

"Okay, yes. Better. Healthier. You
need to eat." Just like Claudia to make you feel foolish for giving her a
compliment. In truth, Claudia looked awful. Fluorescent lighting did not show
her skin to its advantage, and she was still painfully thin.

They concentrated on their plates for a
couple of minutes before Melanie ventured, "So, are your meds on track
now?"

"I hope so. They've got me on a new
SSRI."

"Is it helping?"

"I think. I don't feel as
frantic."

"Good."

Claudia put down her fork and cleared
her throat. "Listen, Melanie, I'm glad you were able to come out with me
today. I have a favor to ask of you. I need your help."

Melanie stopped eating to listen.
"Sure. What do you need?"

"I'm getting out in two weeks and I
have no idea where I'm going to go. I can't go back to my rooms at Jameson. I
need to find a place fast."

"Oh."

"I don't know how to begin to look
for an apartment. I need a short term lease, preferably something month to
month."

“In
Mapleville
?”

“Yes.”

"Aren't you going to go live with
your parents?"

Claudia snorted. "I don't think so.
Would you move back in with yours?"

"I don't know. I might if I had to.
It's only temporary."

"Really? You'd move in with your
parents for several months?"

Melanie thought it over. "No, I
guess I wouldn't."

"Right. So will you help me find a
place? There's only so much I can do while I'm in the hospital, and I'm afraid
if I don't have something lined up before I get discharged, my parents are
going to see that I'm vulnerable and swoop down on me."

Melanie drummed her fingertips on the
table. "You know, I have an idea. I'll have to run it past Scott, but I'm
sure he'll be fine with it."

"Yeah? What?"

"Why don't you move in to the
in-law apartment over our garage? It's not very fancy, but it's comfortable
enough. There's an efficiency kitchen for breakfast and lunch, and you could
join us for dinner whenever you wanted. And it's free."

Claudia sat back and shook her head.
"No. No way. Thanks, but I couldn't impose on you. I have money to pay
rent somewhere."

"How about this then: you pay for
your utilities, maybe a little bit for rent, and babysit now and then. Scott
and I would love to be able to go to a movie." Melanie thought she could sense
Claudia wavering and pressed her point, "Come on, Claudia, it's a sweet
deal."

"Do you want me to babysit,"
Claudia asked warily, "Or do you want to babysit me?"

"I have four kids. I don't have
time to babysit you, Claudia."

"I like privacy, Melanie. It's
really nice of you to offer, but I don't know if it would work out."

"We would leave you alone. It would
just be nice to know you're nearby. You're like a sister to me. These are the
times that we need to be around family," Melanie cajoled. "Just not our
own family."

Claudia laughed. "I'll think about
it."

"Say yes."

"I'll say probably."

Melanie sighed. "That'll have to
do, I guess."

"Thanks, Melanie," Claudia
said, picking up her fork. "That's a really generous offer."

Melanie smiled, and they resumed their
meals. Melanie was pretty sure Claudia would eventually agree to stay in the
in-law suite. Claudia, for her part, had already decided she would, but didn't
want to appear over-eager. It would be an excellent situation for her. She'd
been hoping Melanie would suggest it.

The next morning Claudia awoke with a sense of purpose.
She dressed, prepared tea and toast, and headed to the school building. Instead
of going up to her classroom, she detoured to the administration office and
spoke to the secretary. It was easy enough to procure Mrs. Tomlinson's phone
number from the alumnae directory. Claudia copied it onto a sticky note, folded
the paper and put it in her pocket, then hurried off to greet her
eighth-graders.

The minute her planning period began,
Claudia sped to the teacher's lounge. To her dismay, the room wasn't deserted:
one of the history instructors had gotten there first. Claudia waited with
mounting blood pressure as her colleague brewed a new pot of coffee, poured
herself a mug, added cream and sugar, and then stirred thoughtfully for a
ridiculously long time. Finally, the instructor succumbed to the barrage of
angry psychic energy Claudia sent her way and left.

The door hadn't even closed to when
Claudia dug the sticky note out of her pocket. She sat down at the common phone
and dialed. After three rings, a young, feminine voice answered.