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“I can’t believe it, either,” I tell him. “I’m so glad to be here.”
And before we’ve even had dessert, they’ve already made me feel like a member of the family. Caroline and Ted share a gentle and relaxed affection. They finish each other’s sentences and pick food from each other’s plates, and together they tell me the charming fairy-tale story of how they met at the Lincoln Center Barnes and Noble some fifteen years ago. Midway through the story, Ted’s hand reflexively drifts to his wife’s knee, and she rests her hand on top, weaving their fingers together.
Even their disagreements are kind of funny and charming. At one point in the meal, Teddy announces he has to go to the bathroom. I stand to go with him, but Teddy waves me off. “I’m five years old,” he reminds me. “The bathroom is a private place.”
“Attaboy,” Ted says. “Don’t forget to wash your hands.”
I return to my seat, feeling foolish, but Caroline tells me not to worry. “This is a new phase for Teddy. He’s exerting his independence.”
“And staying out of prison,” Ted adds.
Caroline seems irked by the wisecrack. I don’t understand what it means, so she explains.
“A few months ago, we had an incident. Teddy was showing off to a couple children. I mean, he was exposing himself. Typical little boy behavior but it was new to me so I may have had an overreaction.”
Ted laughs. “You may have called it sexual assault.”
“If he were an adult male, it would be sexual assault. That was my point, Ted.” Caroline turns to me. “But I agree I could have chosen my words a little more carefully.”
“The boy can’t even tie his own shoes,” Ted says, “and already he’s a sexual predator.”
Caroline makes an exaggerated show of removing her husband’s hand from her knee. “The point is, Teddy learned his lesson. Private parts are private. We don’t show them to strangers. And next we’re going to teach him about consent and inappropriate touching because it’s important for him to learn these things.”
“I agree one hundred percent,” Ted says. “I promise you, Caroline, he’ll be the most enlightened boy in his class. You don’t have to worry.”
“He’s really sweet,” I assure her. “With you guys raising him, I’m sure he’s going to be fine.”
Caroline takes her husband’s hand and returns it to her knee. “I know you’re right. I just worry about him anyway. I can’t help it!”
And before the conversation can go any further, Teddy comes hurrying back to the table, breathless and wild-eyed and ready to play.
“Speak of the devil!” Ted says, laughing.
* * *
Once we’ve finished dessert and it’s time to go in the pool, I’m forced to admit that I don’t actually own a swimsuit—that I haven’t been swimming since high school. So the very next day, Ted gives me an advance of $500 against future wages, and Caroline drives me to the mall to shop for a one-piece. And later that afternoon she stops by my cottage with a dozen outfits on hangers, really nice dresses and tops from Burberry and Dior and DKNY, all new or barely worn. She says she’s already grown out of them, that she’s ballooned to a size eight, and I’m welcome to the clothes before she turns them over to Goodwill.
“Also, you’re going to think I’m paranoid, but I bought you one of these.” She hands me a tiny pink flashlight with two metal prongs sticking out the top. “In case you go running at night.”
I switch it on and there’s a loud crackle of electricity; I’m so startled I immediately drop it, and the device clatters to the floor.
“I’m sorry! I thought it was—”
“No, no, I should have warned you. It’s a Vipertek Mini. You clip it on your key chain.” She retrieves the stun gun from the floor and then demonstrates its features. There are buttons labeled LIGHT and STUN, plus a safety switch that toggles on and off. “It fires ten thousand volts. I tested mine on Ted? Just to see if it worked? He said it felt like he’d been struck by lightning.”
I’m not surprised to learn that Caroline carries a weapon for self-defense. She’s mentioned that many of her patients at the VA hospital have mental health issues. But I can’t imagine why I’d need a stun gun for jogging around Spring Brook.
“Is there a lot of crime here?”
“Hardly ever. But two weeks ago? A girl your age was carjacked. Right in the Wegmans parking lot. Some guy made her drive to an ATM and take out three hundred dollars. So I figure better safe than sorry, you know?”
She’s waiting expectantly, and I realize she won’t be satisfied until I get out my keyring and attach the device, and it feels like my mother’s looking after me again.
“I love it,” I tell Caroline. “Thank you.”
* * *
The job itself is pretty easy and I adjust to my new routine quickly. A typical workday goes something like this:
