Six months. It had been six months since Debra's shameful but oh-so exciting affair with Marco, a 19 year old Italian exchange student with a summer job at the local A&P. Debra still flushed at the memory of that night, and how she'd given herself with such reckless abandon to the young man, doing things with him she'd never done before or even considered doing. He'd awoken a flame in her that she'd forgotten she had (if, indeed, she'd ever been aware of it at all), arousing her to such a fantastic degree that she'd even let him come in her, with no protection, even though she wasn't on the pill.
The next morning she'd read the letter he left her, explaining why he'd come to her the way he had and that he was leaving for school, never to see her again. At the time, she'd been glad; she appreciated what he'd done and would never forget that night, but didn't need the complications of a young lover. She'd re-committed herself to Ray, and had tried over the period since to get him to see in her what Marco had.
It hadn't worked.
Ray was still Ray. Oh, he was a good man, of course; a good father, a good provider, and she knew he loved her deeply. But he was still too much of a momma's boy to really "get" her the way Marco had. Part of the problem, she thought, was that he knew her (or thought he did) and would never dare try some of the things Marco had. And she wasn't about to ask him to. She'd given hints galore, but he still continued on with sex in the same old way, and she was tired of trying to get through to him. Sighing resignedly to herself, she figured this was just how it was going to have to be.
It was the end of a long, cold February in New York, and Ray had plans to take the kids off to visit some family of his in Pennsylvania. Everyone was going, even Robert, Frank and Marie. Debra wasn't particularly looking forward to it. It was tough enough living across the street from Ray's family, but traveling with them was a different story. Still, she had a few weeks before the trip to get used to the idea; maybe she'd even enjoy it. For now, though, there were the usual chores to be done. She had laundry piling up, cleaning to do, and errands for the kids. Grimacing to herself slightly, she remembered that she had a meeting with Allie's new teacher today, too. She didn't know what it was for; she'd just gotten one of those wretched school form letters one day saying she was requested to come and meet with Mrs. Thompson at noon today. That was the kids lunch period, which let the teacher meet the parent without interrupting class.
'Great for her,' Debra thought. 'I mess up my schedule so she doesn't have to mess up hers, the old bat.' Debra knew this was an unfair thought. She hadn't even met the new teacher yet, and had no reason to think ill of her. It was just frustrating; it always seemed like it was her job to be inconvenienced, and she was sick of it.
Debra arrived at the school on time, and walked into the front office.
"Hello, how can I help you?" asked the little grey haired lady at the front desk. Debra thought she must have worked there since George Washington went to school here; she looked like a permanent fixture.
"Hi, I'm Debra Barone, Allie's mother. I'm here to see her teacher, a Mrs. Thompson?"
"Actually, dear," the old lady piped up with a look of disapproval, "it's MISS Thompson. I'll call her and let her know you're here, if you'll just have a seat over there" she finished, pointing to the small collection of chairs and a couch that passed for the waiting room.
Holding back a sharp retort, Debra signed the visitor's log, stabbing the pen back into the holder rather more sharply than necessary before flouncing down on the couch, her arms crossed in angry defiance. God, what WAS it with people? Did the old bitch really need to correct her like that? Must just come naturally to people working in schools, she thought. They just have to correct everyone.
She flipped idly through the pages of a magazine, without even paying attention to what it was. Then a voice said from the door, "Mrs. Barone? Hi, I'm Stephanie Thompson, Allie's new teacher." Debra looked up in surprise at the young, sweet sounding voice in surprise. For some reason, she'd assumed Allie's new teacher would be of a more mature age, somewhere between sixty and oh, say, a hundred. Ms. Thompson, however, was young; younger than Debra, at any rate. She looked to be no more than 25 or so, and had dark black hair pulled back into a pony tail. She was about Debra's height, and very trim, with the body of an athlete. She was wearing a pair of khaki slacks that showed off her figure nicely, and a light blue sweater that went well with her eyes, which were a dark, dark blue.
Debra stood and shook Ms. Thompsons hand. She couldn't help but notice how smooth they were, and was slightly embarrassed to remember she hadn't used any of her traditional hand cream today. "Hi, I'm Debra. Nice to meet you finally! We really should have come down earlier, but it's been really busy," she said, feeling like the worst parent in the world. Why hadn't she and Ray come down to see Allie's new teacher? She couldn't remember why, but it had never really seemed important.
"Oh, that's no problem at all, Mrs. Barone," said Ms. Thompson, gesturing for Debra to come along with her to the class. "That's one reason I sent home a meeting request; I want to meet all the parents of my students, and it's hard to get everyone here. And, while we're at it, please just call me Stephanie."
"Okay, thanks, Stephanie, and you can call me Debra," she replied, feeling a little better. Some people were naturally good at putting a person at ease, and Stephanie Thompson seemed like one of them.
As they strolled down the hall, Debra asked "Is there anything in particular you wanted to discuss?"
Opening the door to her classroom, Stephanie ushered Debra in and gestured for her to sit by her desk in an adult-sized chair obviously carried in for that purpose. 'Thoughtful of her,' Debra said to herself. 'I like this lady.'
"Well, Debra," said Stephanie, "the biggest reason I've asked to see you has to do with Allie's socializing. Now, she's not misbehaving!" Stephanie said quickly as Debra started to speak in obvious surprise. "Far from it. No, the problem is that she's a little bit too passive for her own good. She won't tell me when she needs help, or ask for it. She won't stick up for herself, either; if someone does something to her she doesn't like, she just takes it. I'm a bit worried about that, because as you know she'll start middle school next year, and it's a lot tougher on kids who can't show some spirit."
"Well, Stehpanie, I'm glad you told me this" Debra said with real concern. "I never knew this was happening; why haven't we been told before? Is this something new?"
Looking slightly sheepish, Stephanie replied. "I don't wish to say anything discourteous about my predecessor, Debra," she started slowly. "But Mrs. Brown's idea of good behavior was basically not getting in trouble. As long as Allie didn't cause problems, that's all she really noticed. Me, I try to look after them a bit more and see ALL their behavior. I tried to talk to Allie about it, but she's not responding like I'd hoped."
"What can we do to help her?" Debra asked, again with obvious concern. She might have some disappointments of her own to deal with, but she always tried her best to help the kids when they really needed it, and this sounded serious ('and a bit familiar, too, doesn't it?') she thought dimly to herself.
"You can talk to her, and try a little roll-play. Put her in an imaginary situation, where you try to take something from her, or make her do something she doesn't want to. Then help her with good responses; firm, without being belligerent. Praise her when she gets it right, promise to be on her side, and just support her. With both of us telling her it's okay to say 'no,' she should come along a bit better."
