55/365 History: the story comes out

I go over and sit next to Joey in the computer lab. She's got her feet up on the table and is leaning back in her chair. I sit down like someone come to listen to a bedtime story, anxious for what I assume will be good gossip. I am not disappointed.

"So this is why I think it was Roxanne. Before it happened, before anyone went in and erased my files, she comes up to me after daily mass and asks if she can take me out for coffee. Immediately I think this is a bad idea but I go along with her anyway. We just go down the way, she drives. And at first she's talking all about her kids and her crazy husband."

I know this family and they worry me. I teach one of the daughters and the things she says to me, I wonder if she's trying to entrap me. Sixth graders should not be suspects in espionage, but that's how I view Nellie and her family. Like they're waiting for me, or anyone, to screw up.

"And I know," she continues, "that she's not my friend. I mean, like, there's no way I can trust her or anything. I remember Terri telling me about when the teacher's union was pushing for a raise--"

"We don't have a union," I interrupt. It's one of the big scabs I pick at--the pope can write an encyclical on the dignity of work and be all about the Solidarity movement in Poland but those Catholic schoolteachers had better not form a union.

"Well, whatever it is, anyway, when that hit the news, Nellie came to school the next day and announced to Terri that her job was a vocation and she should be happy she gets paid at all. As if there's enough nuns to do this job anymore?"

I can just see Nellie pulling that kind of stunt. "So that family sat around the dinner table and listened to Karl make pronouncements about Catholic schoolteachers being greedy. Nice."

"Plus they don't tithe," she leans forward with a dirty smile. "I mean, a little bit, but--"

I must have changed the look on my face, or something, because she stops before she gives me those details.

"So anyway, we were talking at the table and suddenly she has her coffee cup in her hand midair and says, I kid you not, 'How long you been sleeping with Bill?'"

I chuckle at this. A parish can be a terrible rumor mill and this is one I'd heard before.

"Well," Joey continues, indignant, "I can assure you it isn't true."

"I believe you." I do, in fact.

"But stupid me, when she says this, I answer, 'What Bill?'"

Now I laugh out loud. "Oh, that's great."

"Yeah, sure it is. Made me look like a hooker. And her face changed, I think she wanted me to be mad, but instead I was confused."

"Took the wind out of her sails."

"Right. And she says, she says, 'Bill Spencer, who did you think I meant?' And then I'm surprised. I tell her no, no way, we're friends, sure, he eats dinner at my house a lot, but no way. I have a husband." She puts her feet down on the floor and slaps down on the table with both hands. "And that's why I think she did it."

"You know, Joey, I have to tell you, this isn't the first time I've heard this rumor."

She looks at me through narrowed eyes.

"Really," I insist.

"Ok." She takes a deep breath. "But that one--"

"No, I agree. Dolores had the keys and Roxanne is nuts. And I'm sure they're both jealous of the time you spend here."

"Colin's asked me, too," she says quietly. "But, I guess I just didn't see it."

"Bill's an easy target."

I hear the rumor again. And again. Through the year and into the next. I pretty much knew who was generating the energy behind it. Maybe it was true. Maybe it wasn't. I don't have surveillance cameras or a private investigator's services at my disposal. But each time I heard it, I reminded myself of the source and reminded the person telling me of the source. And in doing so, I took a big step towards becoming an adult.