The Wire Hanger

Chapter Eight

Life went on in a terrifyingly normal fashion. It didn’t seem possible that Esau and I could continue to go to school, to eat breakfast in the morning, to do our homework in the evenings and put ourselves to bed at night, but we took our cues from our father, and since he was behaving as though this were our ordinary life now, we couldn’t help but follow along, making bewildered eye contact when he couldn’t see. He told us that he’d made the appropriate inquiries and reports, and that things were now “coursing through their proper channels,” and, as far as it seemed to him, that was it.

            I hadn’t touched the paper or the notebook in three days. I had memorized the information, scanty as it was, so there was hardly any need, but in the three days that I mulled it over, unable to think about anything else, I hadn’t gotten any further. There simply wasn’t enough there. I was wondering whether I should go to the library and start searching up by index – I didn’t dare search the internet, which was so heavily monitored that hardly anyone used it for non-official purposes – when my teacher dropped a heavy book on my desk, startling me awake.

            “Miss Jacoba,” he said. “I’m sorry, did I wake you?”

            “No,” I mumbled, adjusting my headscarf.

            “It seems you have something on your mind,” he said. “Care to share with the class?”

            I stared down at the floor.

            “No? Then why don’t you go share with the principal.”

            I shuffled to my feet and grabbed my bag. It was near the end of the period and odds were I’d be there for quite a while. When I got to the office I took a seat where the dour secretary pointed, swinging my feet off the end of the bench. After about ten minutes I was surprised to see Principal Skinner, from the elementary school, leaving my principal’s office.

            “Coby,” he said, nodding at me. He had closed the door to the principal’s office firmly behind him.

            “Hello, Principal Skinner.”

            “Your mother has not returned to work,” he observed. “It is good that you and your brother were so responsible.”

            “Yes,” I said, looking at my hands.

            “I am just here on a collegial visit,” he said. “Then I thought I might take a turn about the city. My school can run itself just fine without me, I believe.”

            “They’re very good teachers,” I said, beginning to lose the thread of the conversation.

            “Yes. And the trees are beautiful this time of year. The view of the maples, particularly, is stunning.”

            My heart started hammering in my chest. “The maples?”

            “Ah yes,” he said, smiling phlegmatically. “You don’t see many of them anymore. But in fact they’re not that hard to access. Just a few stops along the train. I believe that I am out of time, now. Have a lovely day, Coby. Give my best to your mother.”

            He left, shutting the office door behind him as well. The secretary looked up in confusion. “I thought he said your mother was missing.”

            “You know how he is,” I said, blood rushing to my ears. I was grateful my scarf hid them from view. “Not a hundred percent there.”