The Friendship Pact. Tara Taylor Quinn

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СКАЧАТЬ let go of her thoughts for the moment. A rare experience these days. Losing herself in the music, she did what she was told.

      * * *

      “Okay, everyone, remember to listen to your parents, be safe, and have a great summer!” I spoke to the wriggling bodies that had taken over my classroom five minutes before the last bell rang on the last Friday afternoon of the 2009/2010 school year.

      I pasted on a smile as the final seconds ticked past, my insides scrambling with a combination of their excitement and my own nostalgia. After nine months with the third graders I’d developed a sense of connection with them. I knew them. Their good and their bad.

      And after today, they’d be all but gone from my life.

      The second hand was almost at the twelve. After seven years of teaching you’d think I’d be better at this part. But letting the kids go seemed harder each year. With tears clogging my throat I called out, “Happy summer, everyone!” just as the bell rang.

      “Bye, Mrs. Brown!” several voices chorused at once. And then several more in a confusion of words as the children lined up at my door pushed and shoved their way out of the room to the join the throng of kids walking as fast as they could out in the hall. Voices could be heard outside my window as the first batch of youngsters burst out into freedom—or at least into the waiting presence of mothers and school bus drivers who’d be taking them safely home.

      Wrapping my arms around my middle, shivering in the blue pants and matching tailored blouse I’d pulled on that morning—I knew I should’ve brought a sweater because they kept the school so darn cold—I watched the children scatter, saw car doors open and close and—

      “Mrs. Brown?”

      Startled, I swung around. Mary Ephrain stood there, a little brunette with fine features and petite bones. She was also one of the biggest troublemakers I’d had all year.

      “Yes, Mary?”

      “I...can I have a hug goodbye?”

      The tough little character stood there, all alone and looking so small in a classroom that had suddenly seemed to double in size now that everyone had left it, and I almost couldn’t hold back the tears that had been threatening on and off all afternoon. I reached for the girl and held her tight, hoping she got whatever it was she needed from me.

      “You’ll come and see me next year, won’t you?” I asked her.

      Mary nodded, her chin quivering. “Can I see you in the summer, too?” she asked.

      “Well, I’d love that, but we won’t be here in the summer.”

      The child nodded. And turned and ran out before I could ask her if something was wrong.

      I made a mental note to myself to follow up with Mary’s mother, whom I’d met several times over the past year—not in particularly pleasant circumstances. There was only so much I could do, but making sure that the single-mother household was doing okay wouldn’t be too out of line.

      At least not in my book.

      “She’s a cutie.” The voice brought me out of my funk and I smiled for real as I watched Bailey walk up to my desk from the back of the room. Dressed as usual in a power suit, hose and heels, she looked impressive.

      Accomplished.

      I could hardly believe this was my Bailey. The best friend who used to fart in my bed and then laugh uproariously.

      “She’s a handful,” I said, putting the last of my things in my duffel and slinging that, along with my bohemian-style tie-dyed purse, over my shoulder. Mary kind of reminded me of a younger Bailey.

      I made another mental note to check up on the child once or twice over the summer, then did what I was supposed to do and tried to put the children behind me as I joined Bailey for our end-of-the-school-year girls’ night out.

      Danny was in New York on business, something about marketing campaign money that needed to be allocated to a new supplier, and Bailey would be spending the night at my place. I couldn’t believe how much I was looking forward to the hours ahead. In spite of how much I missed my husband.

      * * *

      Bailey poured two glasses of wine and, turning out the kitchen light behind her, made her way to the guest bedroom in the three-bedroom bungalow Koralynn shared with Danny. They were in a suburb of Pittsburgh, a neighborhood of older but well-kept homes on large wooded lots.

      At Koralynn’s urging, Bailey had actually just looked at a place in the same neighborhood, a little smaller, but with a pool in the backyard, and if all worked out well, she might make an offer on it.

      In black flannel pants and a T-shirt emblazoned with pastel-colored hearts surrounding the word Believe, Kora was just coming out of the bathroom as Bailey approached.

      “I didn’t brush my teeth,” Kora said. “Ruins the taste of wine. Even cheap wine.” Kora and Danny were doing fine financially, but they were determined to make it on their own without help from their folks. His dad was out of state anyway, and his mother’s new marriage wasn’t going well. And while Danny had already proven to be a gifted financial analyst—no surprise there—he was still in a junior position at the firm. And Kora’s public school salary wasn’t going to make them rich.

      Bailey followed Kora into the guest bedroom and handed over one of the two glasses, holding hers up. “To you,” she said.

      “To you,” Kora returned with a grin, clinked her glass with Bailey’s and took a sip. They’d had a couple of drinks at the club where they’d gone to dance for a bit after dinner, but the decibel levels had been too loud to allow for conversation.

      And dancing wasn’t as much fun as it used to be either. Not when you’d worked all day and were tired and needed to have a private conversation with your best friend.

      Glass in hand, Koralynn climbed onto one side of the duvet-covered bed—the side she’d slept on growing up—and sat cross-legged. “Okay, out with it.”

      Bailey’s stomach started to churn. Like it always did when she was bothered or nervous.

      “This isn’t cheap wine,” she said, her back to Kora as she paced the room for a second or two. She wasn’t surprised that Kora knew she needed to talk. She needed Kora’s buy-in. And was desperately afraid she wasn’t going to get it.

      “You should know—you brought it.” Kora’s tone reminded Bailey of the way she’d heard her friend speak to her students backstage at the Christmas play the previous year. A combination of authority and affection.

      It was a good thing Kor had third graders. Any older, and her kids would know she was a big pushover.

      Bailey turned, looking at the glass of wine she held. “Oh, yeah.” She’d recognized the bottle when she’d seen it on the top shelf of the refrigerator.

      “Mmm-hmm.” Kora’s eyes shone with a compassion that Bailey was addicted to. She could handle life. Could stand up to an abusive stepfather, a corrupt judge. And any asshole who tried to take her clients to the cleaners. But she could not live without that look of Kora’s.

      Kora knew СКАЧАТЬ