Hide Your Eyes by Alison Gaylin Read Free Book Online Page A

made twice as much as I did and Terry seemed to trust her more.

    So recently, I’d begun to suspect a different reason for the resentment. Observing her over the past two years, I’d noticed certain things about Veronica - how she blushed when any man addressed her directly; how she’d never once mentioned a boyfriend, or an ex-boyfriend, or even a date, but talked about the lives of her parents (with whom she lived) with an attention to detail that bordered on obsessive; how (according to one of her assistants) she’d nearly swallowed her own tongue when a girl in her class asked her what a penis was. At thirty-five, Veronica Bliss was still a virgin. I was pretty sure she resented most of us who weren’t, but, since my classroom was right next to hers, I was the most convenient target.

    ‘Wasn’t that actor you used to date named Nate Gundersen?’ she asked.

    My stomach flopped over like an empty hot water bottle. ‘You have an excellent memory.’

    ‘Well, my memory was jogged a little bit this morning.’ Veronica’s smile grew to chilling proportions as she opened the New York Post she’d been clutching and placed it on the desk in front of me. ‘No wonder you were so upset when he dumped you. He’s dreamy .’

    Just in case I didn’t notice the forty-eight-point type or the breathtakingly shirtless photo of Nate, Veronica had outlined the article - which graced the front page of the entertainment section - in red Magic Marker. ‘Nate Gundersen,’ the headline read. ‘TV’s Newest, Hottest Heartthrob.’

    Veronica said, ‘You can keep the paper if you like.’

    I grabbed the bathroom key out of my desk and ran down the hall. Fortunately, I made it into the girls’ room before I threw up.

     
    The hangover wasn’t Yale’s fault. Neither was the strange image that continued to haunt my brain; nor the sadistic virgin with whom I worked; nor the news - courtesy of the sadistic virgin and her overzealous Magic Marker - that Nate hadn’t become suicidal or penniless or even fat since I’d left him, but quite the opposite. He’d become a soap star - Live and Let Live ’s Lucas, a.k.a. TV’s Newest, Hottest Heartthrob in forty-eight-point type.

    The one thing I could pin on Yale, however, was the agonizing string of syllables I was now forced to wrap my acid-tasting tongue around. Why did the cat have to be named Jennyanydots? Why did she have to tie parts of the draperies into sailor knots?

    I’ll tell you what I’d like to tie into sailor knots . . .

    Five months earlier, Yale - whose then-boyfriend was understudying the part of Rum Tum Tugger - had snagged free matinee tickets for me and my class to one of the last performances of Cats . I was never much of a musical theater fan to begin with, and I found the concept of grown men and women frisking around a stage in whiskers and spandex disturbing. But I’d figured the kids would love the show, and my instincts had proven correct. During recess, several of them regularly re-enacted scenes, leaping around the jungle gym like crazed, miniature theater majors. Ever since I’d told them that Cats was based on a book, they requested Old Possum’s Book of Practical Cats at least three times a week for story hour. (The book was also courtesy of Yale, who’d been only too happy to donate it to my class after Rum Tum gave him the heave-ho.)

    Terry thought it was marvelous that the kids enjoyed T.S. Eliot. So did I, most of the time. But on this particular day, with my hollow stomach sucking up against my spine and my mind tied into tighter sailor knots than any Gumbie Cat could ever hope to create, ‘The Wasteland’ would’ve been far more appropriate reading material.

    ‘Ms. Leiffer, read slower!’ shouted Kendrick, who was not heckling but making a legitimate request. I was rushing through the poem, in the hopes of speeding up story hour and the day and my life. If I had to say Gumbie Cat one more time I thought I might scream. And,