from his students.’ She turns to Hector. ‘Show her after dinner, Hector. She’d like that.’
I see Hector, striding through the fading sunlight past the bleached brick of the school building, a book under his arm. I am watching through the car window, and he doesn’t see me: I am parked out of sight. It is after hours: Kylan is at some after-school activity at the high school, and though I wasn’t sure where I was going when I set off from the house, I am not surprised to find myself here.
It was a long time until I saw him walk out of the building again, and most of the other cars were gone. He wasn’t alone: there was a student with him, a girl who must have been in the final year. I wondered if this was the girl he had told me about, the one who
had potential
, his latest after-school project. They stood on the steps, talking, her face leaning in close as if she was telling him a secret. Then she smiled a shy half-smile, and turned away. Hector took hold of her arm, and pulled her towards him, and for a split second, they embraced. The girl turned away from him then, walking straight past my car without seeing me, her face flushed. Hector went the other way, getting into his car and pulling out of the car park.
I stand up. Everyone turns away from Hector to look at me. He must have been telling a story.
My head rings and I need to lie down, to think it over.
With unsteady hands, I collect the ramekins back onto the tray and walk back through to the kitchen.
‘Is she all right?’ I hear Matilda asking, but I keep walking.
‘She’s fine, Mother,’ Hector says.
In the kitchen, I put the tray down and lean over the sink, taking deep breaths. I shut my eyes, trying to bring back the memory, to examine whether it was real or not. But I know that it is: I can feel the uncomfortable warmth from the car heaters, and see Hector’s hands around the girl’s waist.
I hear the door open behind me. I turn around, and Hector is there.
‘Marta,’ he says, ‘I don’t know what’s going on with you, but I wish you would pull yourself together. You are ruining the evening.’
I want to confront him, to ask him about the girl I saw him with, about the others. But I hear the rumble of Kylan’s voice from the dining room, Katya’s laughter, and I don’t want to cause a scene.
He stands in the doorway, staring at me, a little stooped, his hair more greying than I remember. He looks pitiable, and before I can stop myself I feel the laughter rising. No one is going to find him attractive any more, I think. That’s when I realize I don’t care; he can have all the students he likes.
‘What are you laughing about?’ he says, moving towards me.
My heart beats faster, but I can’t stop.
‘Marta, what the hell is so funny?’
I feel his growing anger almost as if it is my own: I know I am on unstable ground.
‘Marta, stop it.’
He has hold of my arm now.
‘What the hell is wrong with you tonight?’
There is a sound in the doorway and he turns his head. Katya is standing there, watching us. Hector lets go of my arm.
Her mouth is open and it takes a moment for her to say anything. ‘I was just looking for the toilet.’
‘It’s down the hall on the left,’ Hector says, and I can hear the effort it has taken to keep his voice level.
Katya nods, and turns away.
Hector turns back to me, his face red.
‘Now see what you’ve done,’ he says. ‘Can’t you behave yourself when we have guests?’
My smile edges in again: I feel as if I am not a part of this situation.
‘I’ll do the washing up,’ I say, turning on the taps at the sink.
He stands there for some time.
‘Go and see the others,’ I say. ‘They’ll be wondering where we’ve got to.’
Eventually, I hear his footsteps retreating.
Through the crack in the kitchen door, I see the shadowy figures go into the living room, and hear a CD begin to play on the stereo. I work my way through the washing up slowly. Below the surface
I see Hector, striding through the fading sunlight past the bleached brick of the school building, a book under his arm. I am watching through the car window, and he doesn’t see me: I am parked out of sight. It is after hours: Kylan is at some after-school activity at the high school, and though I wasn’t sure where I was going when I set off from the house, I am not surprised to find myself here.
It was a long time until I saw him walk out of the building again, and most of the other cars were gone. He wasn’t alone: there was a student with him, a girl who must have been in the final year. I wondered if this was the girl he had told me about, the one who
had potential
, his latest after-school project. They stood on the steps, talking, her face leaning in close as if she was telling him a secret. Then she smiled a shy half-smile, and turned away. Hector took hold of her arm, and pulled her towards him, and for a split second, they embraced. The girl turned away from him then, walking straight past my car without seeing me, her face flushed. Hector went the other way, getting into his car and pulling out of the car park.
I stand up. Everyone turns away from Hector to look at me. He must have been telling a story.
My head rings and I need to lie down, to think it over.
With unsteady hands, I collect the ramekins back onto the tray and walk back through to the kitchen.
‘Is she all right?’ I hear Matilda asking, but I keep walking.
‘She’s fine, Mother,’ Hector says.
In the kitchen, I put the tray down and lean over the sink, taking deep breaths. I shut my eyes, trying to bring back the memory, to examine whether it was real or not. But I know that it is: I can feel the uncomfortable warmth from the car heaters, and see Hector’s hands around the girl’s waist.
I hear the door open behind me. I turn around, and Hector is there.
‘Marta,’ he says, ‘I don’t know what’s going on with you, but I wish you would pull yourself together. You are ruining the evening.’
I want to confront him, to ask him about the girl I saw him with, about the others. But I hear the rumble of Kylan’s voice from the dining room, Katya’s laughter, and I don’t want to cause a scene.
He stands in the doorway, staring at me, a little stooped, his hair more greying than I remember. He looks pitiable, and before I can stop myself I feel the laughter rising. No one is going to find him attractive any more, I think. That’s when I realize I don’t care; he can have all the students he likes.
‘What are you laughing about?’ he says, moving towards me.
My heart beats faster, but I can’t stop.
‘Marta, what the hell is so funny?’
I feel his growing anger almost as if it is my own: I know I am on unstable ground.
‘Marta, stop it.’
He has hold of my arm now.
‘What the hell is wrong with you tonight?’
There is a sound in the doorway and he turns his head. Katya is standing there, watching us. Hector lets go of my arm.
Her mouth is open and it takes a moment for her to say anything. ‘I was just looking for the toilet.’
‘It’s down the hall on the left,’ Hector says, and I can hear the effort it has taken to keep his voice level.
Katya nods, and turns away.
Hector turns back to me, his face red.
‘Now see what you’ve done,’ he says. ‘Can’t you behave yourself when we have guests?’
My smile edges in again: I feel as if I am not a part of this situation.
‘I’ll do the washing up,’ I say, turning on the taps at the sink.
He stands there for some time.
‘Go and see the others,’ I say. ‘They’ll be wondering where we’ve got to.’
Eventually, I hear his footsteps retreating.
Through the crack in the kitchen door, I see the shadowy figures go into the living room, and hear a CD begin to play on the stereo. I work my way through the washing up slowly. Below the surface
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