Chapter 1
As you can see, this is the cafeteria. It’s called the green cafeteria because of its wall color. Through that door is the blue cafeteria. The blue cafeteria is for students who need complete silence. They might be studying for an exam while they eat so it’s important not to disturb anyone in the blue cafeteria. Sometimes the blue cafeteria is closed for special events. In that case you can always go to the silent study room in wing D. There is however, no food allowed there. Please follow me and we’ll go through wing C where Media Studies are held.”
Piaget droned on about the school and its various features, leading two high school aged kids who looked way too young to be applying to college. Was she ever that young, she wondered. She supposed so, maybe when she had married Gary. Ugh. They were trailed by their respective parents who seemed more interested in the tour then the kids who kept eyes glued to their cellphones or occasionally rolling them in the humiliation of having such caring parents.
“Excuse me, Paige? Is there a washroom around here?”
Piaget smiled tolerantly. “It’s Piaget. Washrooms are back by the cafeteria.”
“Thanks.” The parent with the small bladder took his second pitstop in the one-hour tour and forced our small group to wait until his return.
“Does anyone have any questions while we wait?” Piaget asked.
“Are there counselling services available?” one mom asked, “I think Michelle could really benefit from them.”
“Mom! It’s Michi,” the humiliated teen whined. “Why can’t you call me by my name?”
“It’s not your name,” the mother hissed. “Michelle is a beautiful name. After your great-grandmother. She gave us an inheritance for your education. The least you can do is honor her.”
Piaget closed her eyes and tuned out the argument. Really, how did it come to this? Thirty-four years old, no job skills, going to college again, heavily in debt and giving tours of the campus as part of the student work program.
Oh wait, she remembered whose fault it was. Gary.
Her double-timing, not as rich as he pretended, deceptively charming, idiot husband who at least had the good fortune to die in a freak elevator accident. Probably his fault of course, so the settlement had to take that into account.
But I’m not bitter, Piaget thought to herself. Not at all. Okay, maybe a little.
Mostly she just couldn’t believe how naïve she had been. She married him in college, dropped out, became a perfect trophy wife, dieting, exercising, cooking, having a maid, having expensive clothes and showcasing his wealth to his clients. She was dutiful. She was perfect. Not a hair out of place. She parroted his opinions and was a total flake.
Then Piaget found out he was cheating. With his twenty-two-year-old secretary. How original, right?
They took counselling. Decided to start a family. He was charming, he was repentant. Piaget forgave him.
Then four years later she found out two important facts that he had neglected to tell her.
First, he was enjoying extra sessions with his trainer Misty. Another young blond. Piaget guessed he had a thing for them.
Second, he neglected to tell her he’d had a vasectomy. Makes it so much easier not to get caught in an unwanted pregnancy if he forgot the condom. Of course, a vasectomy doesn’t stop STDs. Especially when Misty had one.
Which is how Piaget found out he was cheating on her again. He brought home some of his extra-curricular activities. Plus, the ‘let’s have a family’ phase of their relationship was a total lie since he’d done the snip and omit that little detail from his wife. Just like so much else in Gary’s life.
Scumbag. Slime ball. Sleazy skunk. Worse than the lowest of low, dung encrusted –
“Hi,” the small bladder man waved his hand in front of Piaget’s face. “We can get back to the tour now.”
Piaget fake smiled and hoped she hadn’t been muttering out loud. “Okay, here is our Media Section. On your left you will find the broadcasting booths where we have live radio going out from the campus.”
Piaget automatically droned on about the tour to her little group. She’d been giving them for the past year now and knew the details inside and out. After the first fifty times she found it boring, but it did give a small amount of cash to her meager finances. Ha, who was she kidding? She was worse than broke and needed every penny she could get. Books were enough to set her into the red, and then there was tuition and the other necessities of life.
She blamed Gary. She blamed herself. After the Misty incident Piaget threatened divorce but never went through with it. If she had, she might have gotten something, some settlement. As it was she hung on for two more years in a loveless marriage because her friends and mother cautioned her not to leave him. She had no marketable skills, what was she going to do? She had no money to her name, it would be a messy long drawn out divorce and what would Piaget live off in the meanwhile? Not that she couldn’t reach out to them, poor her but really, how was she going to live (please don’t take me up on my offer to have you stay in my guest room said their gossipy eyes)? Besides, good girls don’t leave their husbands and plenty of men cheat. Just think of the tradeoff of being a trophy wife. Ask for more vacations, jewelry, stuff instead.
How naïve, Piaget reflected. If she would have left she might have gotten some cash out of the deal. She waited too long, and the economy stopped growing. Not much of a real recession, but enough of a stop that Gary moved money to the wrong accounts, the high-risk investments, hoping to recoup enough to live the lifestyle that he wanted. He was already in trouble and that didn’t help their situation. Of course, Piaget was oblivious. She didn’t know that he was chasing one credit card with another, over extended already with the latest loans to keep up the vacation home, the new yearly cars, the vacations, the expensive restaurants, club memberships and whatever else he managed to spend it all on.
Then it all came crashing down. Literally for Gary. How’s that for karma?
It was hot. One of those really hot muggy days in summer where the sun can just beat down on you if you are outside for too long. Gary was riding the elevator down from the twenty-six floor of the financial firm where he pretended to work. Mostly he smoozed people, moved money around in accounts and hoped no one would notice that he was skimming off the top. Today was not his lucky day. The power went out, the elevator came to a stand-still, and stayed still for hours. Turns out the company had cheaped out and not gotten the call bell in the elevator fixed. Gary might have rung it numerous times, but no one knew. What they did know is that it got hot in the elevator shaft. Piaget knew her husband, and he did not handle the heat well. After approximately three hours in the elevator, Gary decided to take matters into his own hands. He tried to open the doors. He only got them about an inch open. When that didn’t work, he went through the access port in the roof.
Why didn’t he call for help with a cell phone? Turns out the idiot forgot it in his office. It was sitting neatly in a drawer with some lurid texts from Sally on it. Yes, another leggy, young blonde piece on the side. It really shouldn’t come as a surprise by now.
