Extracurricular Activities by Maggie Barbieri Page A

kitchen and stood at the counter, my arms crossed.
    She started talking as if we were in the midst of the conversation already. “I feel terrible about Ray.”
    As would anyone with a modicum of human feeling, I thought. I continued to stare at her. Although I’m not scary in any way, shape, or form, the fact that I towered over her by a good eight inches obviously intimidated her somewhat. I stared down at her and she averted her eyes.
    She started crying, a hiccuping serenade complete with runny nose and leaky eyes. “I’m actually devastated by his death,” she said. She got up and leaned into me, expecting a hug, I presumed, but my arms hung at my sides. “You found him, right?”
    â€œYes, Terri. I found him.”
    â€œOh, my God! That must have been awful!” she cried.
    More than you’ll ever know, I thought. I stood there while she wept into my shirt, waiting for her to stop and tell me her reason for coming by. I didn’t think she had come by to wail about Ray, but I had been wrong before. Maybe she had.
    After a few minutes, she composed herself and pulled back. She saw that I wasn’t going to engage in a conversation about Ray, so she took another tack. “It wasn’t always like this, you know.”
    â€œLike what, Terri?” I was beyond exasperation and waited for her to get to the point.
    â€œLike it is now.” She didn’t do anything to stop the tears and they fell freely onto the front of her T-shirt and my kitchen table. “We used to be happy. I thought we had a good marriage.”
    â€œWell, I guess your cheating put an end to that.” We had moved very quickly from her devastation over Ray’s death to a conversation about her marriage; I shouldn’t have been surprised, but I was.
    She looked at me, resigned. “You’ve got every right to be angry. You must hate me.”
    â€œFirst of all, I don’t need your permission to be angry, and second, hate doesn’t even begin to describe how I feel about you.”
    She pursed her lips. “Ray loved you. He just didn’t know how to be in a committed relationship.”
    My anger boiled to the surface and I used every ounce of self-control that I had not to throttle her. I kept my voice even and measured. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave, Terri, and ask that you never come back here or speak to me again.” After a second, I added, “Please.”
    She gave a rueful laugh. She wiped her hands across her eyes, smearing her mascara across her forehead. “I had this realization this morning,” she started. “Besides you, and of course, Ray, may God rest his soul,” she said dramatically, “I really don’t know anyone in this neighborhood.” She paused. “And I need a friend, Alison.” She let out a choked sob.
    We were only a few feet apart and her fear was palpable.
    â€œWhat would you say if I told you that you didn’t really know Jackson?”
    I sighed. “I would have to agree, Terri.”
    She pushed her hair back with both of her hands. “I’m in a bit of a bind, Alison.”
    My head was spinning. I didn’t know why she was here, I didn’t want to know, and I wanted her to leave. Immediately. I didn’t want to hear this story and I didn’t want to be involved in her life in any way. She wasn’t responsible for my divorce in any direct way or in Ray’s death, I assumed, so we really didn’t have anything to talk about. Ray had cheated on me before and after her, but I was suspicious of women who had affairs with men who were clearly attached, never mind married. I could never hurt another woman in that way and tried to stay clear of women who could. Even Max, for all of her liberal views on sexual recreation, drew the line at married men.
    I finally pulled a chair out and sat down. I don’t know if it was compassion or stupidity, but I felt