Not Suzanne

The Teacher

      She sat toward the back of the room the first day, so I didn’t notice her at first. After I made a seating chart she was near the front. I was struck by her. Not beautiful, but very attractive, at least to me. About average size, light and almost translucent skin, an almost angelic face. Small breasts but big enough to know that they were there. Slender legs. Quiet. Never raised her hand. Small voice, too, when I called on her and pushed her to speak. Shy, like me, which was a nice contrast to some of the loud girls in the class and in the hallways. When I saw her in the hallways she always seemed alone.

      Perhaps it was because I did look at her so frequently that I noticed the bruising. She had worn something long sleeved on a day that was very warm so that every other girl wore short sleeves. Then when she reached out I saw the bruise. Coincidentally, I had just been watching a TV program parental abuse of children, a topic close to my own heart. The psychologist assigned to me last year explained the way that abusive treatment of different kinds can leave scars, as it had with me. Understanding leads to forgiveness and to better ways of acting.  Stay cool, stay cool.

      Anyway, I saw what looked like bruising on her arm when she reached for something and her sleeve pulled up. Was it an accident? Perhaps she fell. Or was it abuse, a  possibility that was hard to feel cool about.

       I made a point of observing her over the next few weeks and saw bruising on two more occasions. Then one day in town I saw her with an older man whom I took to be her father. Small, kind of a stern expression, didn’t see any resemblance to her. Maybe a stepfather, which would make the abuse more easy to imagine. Sexual abuse? Didn’t want to go there – – but impossible not to contemplate. I had the urge to hurt that man, imagining him hurting that frail and beautiful young girl.

      Her name is Susan but I think of her as Suzanne; she said Sue. For some reason I think of her a lot. I think of rescuing her from that abusive father and protecting her. She seems so shy and delicate. I suppose that she is 16 or 17, not more than a dozen years younger than I am.

Sue

      The teacher in my General Science class seems to look at me a lot. I think that he might have noticed the bruises on my arm that day when I wore long sleeves to cover them. I told myself that I was imagining things, but I am sure that he looks at me more than at other kids, and that he saw the bruises that day and maybe now he’s looking for more. 

      His class is not popular. Maybe it’s partly the topic, but it’s him too. He tries to make jokes, but they aren’t really funny. He’s one of those teachers who wants to be liked and acts real friendly, but then he is the teacher and has to act like a teacher and that doesn’t work real well. The kids have trouble figuring out how they should act with him, sort of. It’s okay for me because I’m just very quiet in my classes. He’s not bad looking. Big and strong, but definitely a nerd. Like me.

      I am self-conscious about the bruises, to say the least. My skin is really thin so the slightest blow or bump seems to leave a mark. He saw me with Dad when we were out shopping one day and I think that he wanted to talk to us, maybe meet Dad, I don’t know. Anyway, I acted like I hadn’t seen him and we didn’t meet. Why did I feel that way? I don’t know. I suppose that I should have waved or spoken and maybe he would meet Dad. That probably would be good. Getting to know the teachers is something my folks have encouraged, but I feel shy. Maybe later.

Sue

      About three or four weeks later, I was bruised again and I’m sure that he noticed. He seemed to want to talk with me but I hurried away after class. What would I say? I’m afraid that he might report this to someone, like a school nurse or the principal. And then what?

      My parents have always used alcohol. Their friends too. They had parties and went out quite a lot. But now it’s gone over the line. I’m very worried about Mom. She seems very depressed. People change when they’ve been drinking, and some people become mean and can’t control their anger. I have read about how hard it is to get over alcoholism, so this may get worse and worse. But maybe I’m just extra depressed right now. Got to think better thoughts.

The Teacher

      Suzanne was bruised again today and I won’t put up with this. I can’t stand seeing this lovely girl mistreated by that ugly monster and not do anything. I brought the topic of abuse up in the lounge. What to do if you see evidence of abuse. One teacher asked if I had such evidence? I said that there was a student who had bruises. They weren’t helpful. Be cautious. Easy to get into trouble making accusations of that sort, especially with my status as a temporary teacher. I was sorry that I’d brought it up.

      The teachers n here just aren’t very friendly. They act as though I’m not really one of them, which I guess I’m not. I probably wouldn’t have gotten a social studies or an English job, but math and science was easier, and I’d had enough science to satisfy them.  But I am a teacher and the others should be helpful and treat me with respect instead of looking down on me.

      I began to imagine confronting her father, just having a conversation. Talking about the problem and what might be done. Resources. There would be the danger of a bad reaction, resentment, conflict. I’m a lot bigger and stronger than he is, so it isn’t likely that it would be dangerous for me. And if he did get angry and violent I would be okay. It wouldn’t be the first time I’d had to kick a guy’s ass. That happened to me once where a guy really asked for it. It felt good to give him what he deserved, even though I paid for it later. But be cool, be cool.

The Teacher

      Suzanne was not in class for the past two days and today she showed up with a bruised face. I debated talking to the Assistant Principal but I didn’t. I have more or less decided to do something myself. Talk to her father, as a concerned teacher. Teachers should be concerned.

      I have a plan. Tell him that I’ve noticed bruising on his daughter, and that I hoped that we could talk about this without involving the authorities, who might cause serious problems with the family. Something like that. Nonthreatening, but actually threatening. Suggest getting professional help to deal with the situation before it becomes a real problem for him and his family. Avoid using the word “abuse,” which might escalate things. If he and I can sit down and talk, maybe it would lead him to get help. I can’t sit by without at least trying.

Sue

      It happened on Saturday night. A black eye this time, sort of. My face looks terrible. I stayed at home then Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday. Wednesday morning it looked a lot better, and I went to school. I dread the Science class, and sure enough,, the teacher looked at me and I know that he saw the bruise, even though I kept my head down as much as I could. Dad and I talked about it and I know that it can’t go on. He’s such a coward.

The Teacher

      I really tried my best but it turned out worse than I could have imagined. I started to talk very calmly the way I’d planned, but he was defensive and belligerent and insulting. Mind your own business, he said, and get out of here. That really pissed me off. He said a couple of other insulting things and reached out toward me, sort of poking me in the chest, almost. I lost it. I hit him and hit him and then he fell and hit his head really hard and I think that he was unconscious. Very unlucky for me. I didn’t know what to do. He provoked it, but with my past I knew that it would be a problem if the police got involved. I left him lying there. It wasn’t really my fault, but . . .

Sue

      Something terrible happened yesterday. Someone came in and attacked my father and he hit his head and he’s in the hospital. I was up in my room listening to music and doing homework. Mom came home and found him there. She’s going crazy.

      I’m going a little crazy too. I can’t help thinking of what might if Dad died. There’s be no one to keep me safe from Mom’s drunken rages. He wasn’t very good at it but he did try.   

The Detective

      Strange case. Woman comes home and finds her husband lying unconscious inside the house. Face injured like he was hit by someone, probably more than once, then he falls and hits his head on the corner of a low table. No marks on his own knuckles, so not really a fight. We find that his wife has a record. Alcoholism, assault, battery. So naturally she’s our suspect. But she was stone cold sober when we arrived and very distraught, and somehow it didn’t seem right. Then a neighbor said she saw a guy go to the door and go in, so there’s another suspect.

      The guy seemed in bad shape when he was hospitalized yesterday but they say he’ll probably be okay. If so, let’s hope he can tell us what happened.

The Detective

      Took a few days, but we got him! A teacher, can you believe that?

The Teacher

      It was the mother, not the father, the cop said. I don’t know whether to believe that. I think about Suzanne – – Susan, I mean – – but not so much.

      I hate it in here with all these crazy people, but my lawyer says that this is my best chance of staying out of prison.