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  Eva Butterfield, dead at age forty-six.

  And next, bikini secrets of the stars! And, later—

  SC: This is what Jim Hoffman had seen, and what he said about it, according to Rosalind, was “I was laughing my ass off, two dykes crushed by meat.”

  (Silence.)

  SC: Are you gentlemen familiar with the “fighting words” doctrine?

  RW: Mr. Cassidy, this isn’t a court of law, and we certainly don’t recognize that term in our student handbook. Part of what we try to do from the time we get kids in kindergarten is to convince them that there is no such thing as fighting words.

  SC: Fair enough. I do want to point out, however, that there is a long legal history to the idea that some kinds of speech are inherently so provocative that they might cause a reasonable person to act violently. Surely someone mocking the death of one’s parents qualifies here.

  RW: I’ll admit that this does place a slightly different spin on the incident, but only slightly. She did not attempt to resolve the situation verbally at all. Honestly, if she had just sworn at him, that would be against the rules, but that would have meant a “tut-tut” in the counselor’s office, and we wouldn’t be sitting here today. The fact is that Rosalind went directly to violence with no intervening steps. I understand what you are saying about what Jim said, I do, but this was not any kind of intentional mockery on his part. He doesn’t even know Rosalind.

  SC: I dare say he knows her now, but whether this is intentional or not on his part is, for the moment, beside the point. My point, which I think you will concede, is that this was not an unprovoked act of violence, but rather an extreme but not pathological response to provocative language. I will grant you that Rosalind should have reacted differently and that her use of violence here was inappropriate, which is why we aren’t appealing the suspension. But this is just not an expulsion offense.

  (Silence.)

  RW: All right. I will grant you that knowing that Jim Hoffman was making a joke about this does change the character of the incident. Provided, of course, that we can verify that, it does change the character of the incident.

  SC: Actually, Dr. Watt, it changes the character of the incident quite considerably. For, indeed, Jim Hoffman, with his use of the word dyke, appears to me to be creating a hostile environment for lesbian students as well as, in this case, family members of lesbians.

  SV: Well, Mr. Cassidy, I think we all know that the average teenager is not always a paragon of sensitivity.

  SC: Which is neither here nor there. Chapter 76, Section 5 of Massachusetts General Law, with which you are no doubt familiar, states, and I quote: “No person shall be excluded from or discriminated against in admission to a public school of any town or”—and here is the relevant part for this matter—“in obtaining the advantages, privileges, and courses of study of such public school on account of race, color, sex, religion, national origin, or sexual orientation.”

  Now, it seems to me that Rosalind being unable to walk into a classroom without hearing degrading, dehumanizing, and harassing language about her family constitutes her being discriminated against in obtaining the advantages and courses of study of this public school.

  SV: Realistically, Mr. Cassidy, we can’t control everything that comes out of every student’s mouth.

  SC: No, but you have a responsibility to provide and maintain an atmosphere that is not hostile. What have you done to raise your students’ awareness of this issue?

  SV: Well, our harassment policy appears in the student handbook, which every student receives a copy of.

  SC: How many students have you suspended for hate speech against gays and lesbians in the last five years?

  RW: Well, obviously that’s not a number we have at our fingertips.

  SC: Indeed, but you will if I take this to court, and if I had to guess, I’d put that number at zero. I would remind you gentlemen that I sue schools for a living, and if Rosalind is expelled for this I will sue under Chapter 76, Section 5 as well as any other relevant statutes I can find. I am sure Lambda Legal Defense would love to help me out on this case, and I am further sure that a great deal of negative publicity would accrue to your district as a result.

  SV: But she punched Jim Hoffman in the face! She broke his nose!

  SC: And, in accordance with the rules set out in your handbook, she’s been suspended, which we feel is fair.

  RW: Fine, Mr. Cassidy, we’ll meet in private and inform you of our decision when we’re done.

  (Sounds of shuffling, chairs moving, walking.)

  ROSALIND BUTTERFIELD: So, uh, thanks.

  SC: Well, you’re welcome.

  RB: You know, as soon as Vanian said “learning community,” I just thought, “Bingo!”

  SC: Well, it’s hardly fair if you don’t make a card for me. But I am really really glad you didn’t say that in the meeting.

  RB: Yeah, next time I’m gonna make one about you. How many times did you say “hostile environment”?

  SC: I don’t know. I was shooting for five. It’s in the definition of “harassment.”

  RB: Yeah, I got that actually. I liked “accrue” too. “Bad publicity will accrue.”

  SC: Um, Rosalind?

  RB: Yeah?

  SC: I would really really—I mean, I don’t think I can really add enough reallys here to make clear how much I would like this, but I would really—

  RB: Times double infinity plus one?

  SC: Yeah, really times double infinity plus one like it if we didn’t have a next time.

  RB: (Pause.) Me too.

  SC: (Pause.) How do you rate our chances of that?

  RB: I dunno. I guess I wouldn’t have said I thought this one was ever gonna happen. I mean, if you asked me if I was going to break some kid’s nose, I would have said no way, but then I did. So I don’t think it’ll happen again, and I actually don’t want it to happen again, and I guess that’s about the best I can do for you.

  SC: I’ll take it. (Pause.) Hungry?

  RB: I’m starving.

  SC: How about that Chinese place with the gluten mock duck and whatever.

  RB: Okay. Hey, are you still recording?

  SC: No, I’m pretty sure—

  RB: No, look, the light’s on. No wonder your damn batteries run out all the time, you

  END

  Dear Fluffy:

  Well, Sean got me off the hook, off the heezie for sheezie, whatever, I am not getting expelled. Which is good I guess except it means I have to go back to school. I’m kind of scared about what people are going to say. Maybe I should call Sasha and see what people are saying.

  So I guess I am going with Sean to his dorky gym teacher friend’s house to do some kind of fake family bonding or whatever. I mean the bonding is fake because I don’t want to and the family is fake because of obvious reasons.

  I kind of wonder if I should start doing work or something at school, I am kind of ready for something to go right, to not be like screwed up about everything, but I’m still really sad and I can’t make myself believe it’s important anymore. I’d like to feel good about something. I mean, I guess I felt good about getting drunk, but I can’t do that every day, I mean I could probably but then I would be like that guy on Centre Street with the 40 in a paper bag yelling at people and that would be okay I guess, but I don’t see it as something I would be into for a long time, but then again that guy has been at it as long as I can remember so maybe it has possibilities as a long-term career. But I guess he has dibs on that spot.

  OK, now I get drunk, break noses and make fun of homeless guys, and also smoke, and maybe I will kick a puppy. I kind of wonder if Mom and Mommy would recognize me and if they would like me or if they would be all “We’re so disappointed in you.” Well, too bad, I guess, I mean maybe I could be my old self if they were here to make me feel guilty about my new self but of course the new self is only because they’re not here and I guess that’s another conundrum or logic puzzle or something. In the movi
es there is always somebody saying, “Oh, the spirit of my father is guiding me” or something, I think that was actually in that Mount Everest movie, but I don’t feel them at all, I don’t feel like they are smiling at me from heaven or anything, all I feel is space where they used to be. I would like a little smile from heaven, a little Mufasa face in the clouds saying Ros do your homework it’s important or something, but oh well life is not like cartoons because if it was maybe that kid’s nose would have just spun around his head a couple times instead of cracking like that.

  I’m tired. I want to have fun again. I want something to be fun. But then I guess like Lisa said then I would feel guilty about not feeling sad and it is pretty great to be me right now except I guess at least I do have this bed to fall into which is what I am doing now goodbye.

  To: [email protected]

  From: [email protected]

  Subject: what happens next

  Rosalind,

  I thought I would tell you something about myself again. I am feeling a very strong urge to do or say something relating to your hearing, but I am going to restrain myself. I appreciate the fact that you don’t want this to happen again, and I would like to help you if I can. Unfortunately, I don’t know what to do to help. I thought I might try to say the words “hostile environment” a bunch of times, or possibly “not complying with his IEP” (that is a special-ed joke) (that is to say, a joke about special-education regulations, not a special-ed joke like “Dave’s a sped”).

  I am babbling because I want to say something to you but I don’t know what it is. So I thought I would tell you something about what happened to me after my mother died. I suppose my career choice makes it relatively obvious that I decided at age ten that I should become her. I suppose my thought process was that our family was a one-bartender, one-lawyer unit and we were now short a lawyer, so I had to start studying so that I could be a good lawyer and make my mother proud.

  So I hit the books, pretty much to the exclusion of all else. There are only so many books you can hit in the fifth grade, so I actually went after school and asked for extra sets of math problems, extra reading books, anything that would help me to study.

  I suppose if this were a movie, sometime in high school I would have eventually realized that studying could not take the place of my mother, and that I needed to be more well-rounded and get a date or a life, but, of course, this isn’t a movie, which I suppose is why my mother never looked down at me, Mufasa-like, and told me I was a good lawyer and she was proud of me. That is a Lion King joke, which I am almost certain you get because according to my friend Dave, that movie is now an initiation rite of American childhood.

  I watched it with his son Max once. Of course I cried at the end, and I hated the whole thing for any number of reasons, not least of which was the political implications. I would have liked Simba to declare the monarchy obsolete and found a republic, but that, I suppose, is what came of too much extra reading in history. And, ultimately, I suppose the Lion Prime Minister doesn’t sound quite as good.

  Mostly, though, I hated it because of that lie at the end that Mufasa is going to smile at you if you make him proud. The fact is that I have spent the last twenty-six years trying to make my mother proud, and though I continue to look to the clouds, I never see her face. I don’t know if she’s proud of me, or if she continues to exist in any way, or if she does if she is even aware of me. Many people seem to be sure about this, and I envy their certainty. They say things like, “She’s always with you” and “I just know your mother’s proud of you” (those are from cards I got from my aunts when I passed the bar). I don’t know. I have never felt it since the day she died, that certainty of her presence that I always took for granted before then.

  I am not sure in the end why I am telling you this. I don’t feel like I am someone you should emulate in my path out of grief, so this is not some veiled lecture about why you should hit the books, because ultimately my book hitting did not bring my mom back or get me one benevolent gaze from the clouds. I don’t know if real parents, ones who don’t just appear after fourteen years, are better at shaping their anecdotes into little life lessons. I don’t know what my story should mean to you, if anything. Let me know if you figure anything out.

  —Sean

  To: [email protected]

  From: [email protected]

  Subject: Re: what happens next

  Nothing yet. I will let you know.

  —R

  IM from Sashutup

  Sashutup: HOWRU? RU XPLED?

  Rosalind90: HEY. NT XPLED!

  Sashutup: IM GLAD

  Rosalind90: ME2.

  Sashutup: PEOPLE R TALKING ABOUT U

  Rosalind90: FUCKEM. BUT WHAT R THEY SAYIN?

  Sashutup: UVE LOST IT SYCO, BLAH BLAH

  Rosalind90: FUCKEM AGAIN. I LOST IT BUT IM NOT SYCO

  Sashutup: I TOLD JENNYM THAT ID BREAK HER NOSE 2 IF SHE DIDNT SHUTUP.

  Rosalind90: URA TRU FRND. BUT JENNYM MIGHT LIKE A BROKN NOSE CUZ SHE COULD GET THE NOSE JOB SHE NEEDS SO BAD.

  Sashutup:

  Sashutup: I MISS U. WANNA COME OVER?

  Rosalind90: YEAH BUT I PROMISED DONORBOY TO DO SOME DORKY HIKNG OR SOMETHING. NEXT WKND?

  Sashutup: OK.IL ASK MOM.CU

  Rosalind90: CU!

  To: [email protected]

  From: [email protected]

  Subject: Thanks for coming up

  Hey there. I just wanted to say thanks for coming up and how much I enjoyed meeting Rosalind. Not that she said two words to me, but Max is apparently deeply in love with her. Ever since you left he’s been asking when Sean and Rosalind are coming again, can we go down and see Sean and Rosalind, maybe Sean and Rosalind can come for Thanksgiving, etc. So she made quite an impression on him. Hopefully she didn’t teach him to smoke or anything. That’s a joke. So do you think the trip accomplished the bonding you had hoped? Or was it just a walk on the beach? In any case, it was great to see you. Let’s not wait so long next time.

  To: [email protected]

  From: [email protected]

  Subject: Re: Thanks for coming up

  Well, I am not certain if the requisite bonding was accomplished or not. That is to say, we did actually talk in the car, at least on the way up, mostly so she could criticize the music I was playing, though we seem to have found some common ground in the Donnas. Though this too caused me to get all uptight about my parenting failure. Should I be commenting that I don’t think a song like “Take Me to the Backseat” really expresses a healthy attitude toward sexuality? Should I tell her that female empowerment doesn’t necessarily mean hard-partying sleaze? Or should I just roll the windows down and turn the volume up?

  Guess which option I chose.

  She was silent and sullen all the way home. You would be very proud of me—I managed not to ask her what she was thinking, or how she was doing, or anything. So I suppose that was a positive, though of course when I fail to get in her face I worry that I am being the kind of father my dad was. Ah, that exquisite fear and guilt mélange again.

  In any case, it wasn’t horrible, she spoke for half the trip, she hung out with Max without punching him, so I suppose we have to count it as a success. I also enjoyed it a lot. Not to feed poor Max’s unrequited love too much, but perhaps the three of you could come down here for dinner or something sometime.

  Well, back to work. Having brought Charlesborough to heel, I now have to take on some charter school that thinks they don’t have to do special ed. Talk to you soon,

  —Sean

  Dear Fluffy:

  Corny bonding day with Sean and his dorky friend was okay, I guess, but why do gym teachers always have those gigantic guts? I seriously can’t believe that guy teaches gym. And his wife is this good-looking woman just like on commercials where some fat bonehead always has a pretty wife. Well, the world is weird I guess.

  His kid was okay. I beat him at Smash Brot
hers, so I think he thinks I am a goddess which of course I am, ha ha. I got sad at the beach though. Because the great sea is a metaphor for my own tiny insignificance. Ha, no, but maybe if I made some bullshit poem out of that Westerberg would give me extra credit. It just made me miss going to P-town every summer and the beaches there and the sea is still there but Mom and Mommy are gone, and I don’t know I guess I thought maybe they took all the beaches with them or something. Plus I probably will never go to P-town with Sean because I just don’t think single straight guys go there unless like their gay dad has a house there or something. Anyway who wants to go there without Mom and Mommy anyway.

  So I was quiet for a while and I was glad Sean didn’t try to talk to me or bring up something serious like “Oh, I notice you are quiet, and so I’d like to talk about why you are failing everything, or maybe you need to open up, or I’m here for you” but luckily like I said he just shut up and played his old-school dork music.

  So tomorrow is back to school and it’s 11:30 and I am nervous about walking into class again and everything and I wonder if that kid’s friends will be mean to me or what. Probably I will start going like five minutes late to Westerberg’s class so I can just not see that fuckhead and his fuckhead friends, but then I will be making this big entrance into English class which is not good either. Ladies and Gentlemen, Rosalind the psycho has arrived! Watch your mouth, or she’ll rearrange your face! Blah blah blah. Guess I should go to bed but I don’t want to because when I go to bed it will make it almost tomorrow but if I stay up it will still be today. Whatever. I am tired of you tonight Fluffy, no offense or anything but maybe I will watch TV.

  Dear Fluffy:

  Well, school wasn’t that bad because as I suspected people are kind of afraid of me and that is cool and I do think the BWP were being extra friendly or respectful or something but maybe I am imagining that. Anyway Jen welcomed me back personally in the hallway, all “I heard that kid made fun of your moms and I’m glad you flattened him,” and so did Kate the Shoplifter, only I should stop calling her that because she has always only been nice to me and so I shouldn’t be a bitch and make fun of her even though I’m sorry but she could boost some nice stuff and not just metal shirts. Okay that was mean and from now on I am never making fun of Kate again because like I said she is only ever nice to me and that counts for a lot especially when half of the school is looking at me like I am the psycho bitch from hell.