Finally, I have a definite answer about Pamela’s situation. Christine, her supervisor and now friend—I have been very impressed with her supportive stance on Pamela’s situation—has worked tirelessly, and has now arranged for Pamela to work under a different teacher in January. She even offered to try and get Pamela transferred immediately, but Pamela said no, that she would be able to make it through the semester. Just knowing that there is an end to her struggle—and more importantly, that someone was willing to believe her and work to help her—is a relief.
It gave her such a boost in confidence, in fact, that she has chosen to tell Daniel about it. This made me anxious, but it went better than I thought.
She sent him a terse text this morning, telling him to come and find her over lunch. She waited for him out in the parking lot, next to her car. It was a chilly, rainy day, but still he came, his hands pushed deep into his pockets.
They didn’t speak for a moment. Pamela kept looking towards the school, even though she had purposely parked where a row of trees hid them from sight.
“I’m leaving after this semester,” she said finally. “I’m being transferred across town.”
Daniel nodded slowly. He looked haggard, his eyes bloodshot and his face unshaven.
Looking at him, Pamela felt some of her anger fade back to exasperation. “You need to work this out with your wife,” she said. “Either make the decision to make it work, and put everything into that, or break it off. Don’t keep dragging it out like this. It’s weak, and it’s selfish, and it’s going to kill you both.”
Daniel nodded again. He knows that Pamela is right. But he is tired. I could feel it all the way down to his soul, and it made me hurt for him.
Pamela hurt, too, but she guarded herself with anger. It is better that way.
After a moment Daniel looked up. “I’m sorry about all this. I know it’s been hard on you.”
“Damn right it has,” she said. She studied him, then said, “You let me worry about me. You don’t have any right or reason to stress about what I’m doing.”
“I know,” Daniel said, rubbing his eyes. “I’m just—I’m sorry.”
She softened, just a little. “I know.” Then she drew herself up and turned her back. “Good luck,” she said over her shoulder as she walked away.
He stayed out there for a while, getting soaked and cold. I stayed with him for a while, not giving him anything but company. He was in the wrong, after all, but he did not deserve to be alone.
Then I went to find Pamela, and I stayed with her until she straightened up, washed away and reapplied her mascara, and threw herself back into her lesson plans.
She will be all right, I think. But she will not be alone any more than she has to. I promise that; it is the best that I can do for her, for now.