Forlot: A Girl Who Needs Her Space - Book Thirty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Five

I did not know that my teacher had a child. Now that I think about it, nobody in the class knew that she had a son. We figured that she did not have children because she was not married. Perhaps that she was divorced or adopted Karl.

I blinked a few times. "Karl is your son? I did not know that you had a son."

Mrs. Anderson smiled and tapped her pen on her desk. "You are not the only person. Principal Brown and the other teachers were surprised that I have a son."

"Why have you never mentioned that you have a son?"

She leaned forward. "My and my son's story...does not have a happy ending. Well...it will have a happy ending once Karl finally smiles."

"'Once Karl finally smiles'?" I repeated the phrase. "He has never smiled?"

She shook her head and shed a tear. "Not even slightly, and it is all his father's fault."

"So you are divorced."

"Oh, I am not divorced because his dad and I never got married. And we never married because...I discovered the type of person that he was." She picked up a flower that had been in a small vase. "I came to my senses the week before the wedding."

I sat at a desk close to hers as she told me her story. To be honest, her situation reminded me of my mother's. The only differences were that my dad was not abusive and that Mom had multiple boyfriends.

Guess that is why Mrs. Anderson chose me to show her son around. If anybody could understand Karl, then it was me.

Mrs. Anderson explained that her ex had been abusive to her and Karl. That is horrific. Absolutely horrific. It is awful enough to abuse the one whom you claim that you love. You have to be insane to abuse a kid. A kid. A flippin' child! Who in their right mind would do that?!

I guess that I already answered my question. Whoever abuses a child needs to be locked up. I am blessed that my biological father never abused me or my mom. But Karma does not believe me.

Mrs. Anderson plopped in her chair and massaged her temples. "I am thankful that I was able to pull us out of that environment," she said. "But it was not easy."

"I can only imagine," I said, tapping my fingers on the desk.

"It was not easy for me at first, Carmen. I did not want to break up the family. I did not want Karl to never see his father again. I did not want to go through any of it. I did not want to hassle with filing a restraining order." More tears ran down her cheeks. "It...it was too much. Too much for me."

A wave of sorrow washed over me. I felt awful for Mrs. Anderson and her son. I felt awful that they had to deal with a loser. Anyone who abuses their significant other or a child is a loser in my book.

I wanted to comfort her, so I patted her hand. "I am so sorry, Mrs. Anderson. I am so sorry."

She was wiping her tears. "Carmen...you have nothing to be sorry for. None of this mess is your fault. It is all my fault."

"No, no, no." I took her hand and squeezed it. "It is not your fault. Do not say that it is. You had no clue that he was what he was. Also...Karl would not exist."

She sighed. "You are right." She sniffed. "I love Karl so much. He is such a blessing."

"I bet that he is."

I was sad - and happy - that she told me her and Karl's story. It showed me a new side to her. My friend and I always figured that she just did not know what she was doing. But I realized that there was more to her than a gorgeous face. She was more than a teacher. She was a survivor. She and Karl were survivors of abuse.

I flashed her a smile and said, "I am so happy that you and Karl escaped that twisted man."

"I am not," a male voice said.

I turned around and saw a boy in the doorway. He was the same height as me and adjusting his glasses.

Do all the main characters in this book have glasses?

"Honey," Mrs. Anderson said. "I mean, Karl. Welcome to my class. Your classmates and I are thrilled that you could make it."

Karl crossed his arms and tapped his foot. "Would you please cut it out, Mom?"

"Cut what out?"

"Stop acting like that you do not know me."

"But I do not want you to be embarrassed."

"Frankly, Mom, I do not care if my classmates laugh at me. You know why? 'Cause none of them will desire to be my friend."

"I will be your friend," Karma volunteered. She leaped out of her seat and hurried up to him. "It is a pleasure to meet you. I am Karma." She held out her hand, but Karl did not shake.

"I am Karl." He examined her from top to bottom. "By chance...are you goth?"

She lowered her hand and shrugged. "I am not really a goth person. I would not say that. I just like - no, love! - the color black."

Karl tapped his chin. "Hmm...I would say that you are. I know goth when I see it."

"Karl," Mrs. Anderson said. "What did I tell you about judging others?"

He sighed. "We do not know what those around us are going through."

"If Karma states to you that she is not goth, then she is not goth, and that is something that you are just going to have to get used to."

"Yes, Mom."

"Now apologize to Karma."

He looked at Karma. "Sorry."

"That is okay," Karma replied.

Then we heard my music box playing.