Page 49 of She's the Star

“Exactly. You just knew. I’m the same. When my brother Nicky wanted to play superheroes, he would get pissed with me because I didn’t want to engage in battles for world domination. I wanted to be the hero’s teacher. Or their father.” I shake my head. “He hated playing school. And he refused to be the mother.”

“That’s kind of adorable.”

I chuckle. “Adorable doesn’t help you make friends when you’re a kid. A lot of boys just want to run around zapping each other and pretending to punch the air.”

“And you didn’t?” She looks distressed by the possibility that other four-year-olds thought I was odd. This is not where I thought our conversation might go, but that doesn’t stop me from telling her, “I did okay. My mother encouraged me to be myself. And so did my father. As I grew up, my older siblings started having kids, and my father kept having kids, so there were a plethora of opportunities to babysit. I wasn’t that old when I started planning activities for the littler kids at family events. It was kind of perfect because—as you can imagine—there are a lot of personalities and a lot of competition for attention when my dad is around. It’s much less chaotic when the kids are being entertained. It’s crazy, but I don’t think I ever really questioned what I’d do when I grew up.”

“Me either. The certainty is nice, isn’t it? I can’t remember ever not expecting to make it.” She pauses and shakes her head. “Although sometimes I still can’t believe I’m here.”

“I can’t believe I’m here,” I respond, part joking, part serious.

“On tour with me? Or being a nanny?”

“Both. My life plan included twenty-five more years of being headmaster.”

“Hmm. Do you miss it?” she asks, taking a small sip of water.

“I’m not sure I would have ever acknowledged it if I hadn’t been fired, but I didn’t love being an administrator. In a very roundabout way, losing my job was a blessing.”

“You got fired the morning we met?”

She already knows that I did, but since I know the sordid details of her past with Teddy, it’s only fair that I tell her what happened. “That’s right. I met Carla at a bar and when she asked to come home with me, I didn’t hesitate.” I frown. “I didn’t know who she was or that she was married, and I didn’t expect to see her again. Actually, I didn’t see her again, but she told her husband what happened that night, and he confronted me at dismissal the following Friday. I was too shocked to deny it. The next morning, the board summoned me and decided I was in violation of their morality agreement.”

She purses her lips. “Seriously? Why would she do that?”

“I’m not sure. My father thinks I should have confronted her. Or fought back. But I couldn’t make myself do either.”

“You don’t want to know why?”

“Knowing why won’t change anything.” I look at the ground, and admit, “I slept with another man’s wife. A man I never liked. Even though I didn’t know she was his wife, it still happened.”

She looks at me strangely. “You blame yourself? You think you deserved to be fired?”

“No. Maybe. I don’t know. It wasn’t for me to decide. Actions have consequences. Choices, too. I chose to accept the consequences of my actions.”

“But you weren’t at fault.” She squints like she’s trying to understand. “If anything, you were a victim.”

I hear what she’s saying, and I don’t necessarily disagree. At the same time, I can’t help feeling partially responsible. “I should have been more careful. Or more discerning. Either way I was an active participant.”

Her brow furrows. “I can’t decide if that’s noble or crazy.”

“Maybe both.” I laugh awkwardly.

“It’s very zen of you to simply accept and move on.”

“When one door closes, another door opens.” The words are cliché, but that doesn’t make them untrue.

“The grass is greener,” she says.

I chuckle. “Obviously.”

She bites her lip. “By your logic, my situation with Teddy is the result of my actions and therefore I ought to accept the consequences.”

“Not at all,” I rush to try to explain. “I don’t hold myself responsible for what Carla did. I hold myself responsible for what I did.” I shift so I’m facing her more directly. I don’t want her to think I’m judging her. “By that logic, you’re responsible for your actions, not Teddy’s.”

She takes another sip of water. “So as an active participant, getting knocked up is on me and therefore the consequences—good and bad—are mine to bear. But being cheated on wasn’t on me, so the consequences I experience because of that are unfair.”

I wince at the sharp tone of her voice. She definitely thinks I’m judging her. Fuck. I should have stayed in my room. Why are we even talking about this? “I didn’t mean to—I’m sorry.”

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