Sex. Murder. Mystery(160)
“Yeah, so.”
We've all been waiting for this, Kate thought, without saying it. Is there someone? I hope there is someone! Now maybe you can love someone.
“Yes, there is someone,” Mary Kay said softly.
“That's great”
“And I'm pregnant,” she said.
“Well, you said there was someone. So what!”
Kate learned nothing about the other someone, though she understood he was a wonderful person, and younger than Mary Kay. But as she had when she first told Michelle about it, Mary Kay did not let on just how much younger her beau was.
Kate, of course, would learn more in the weeks and months to come and she would consider why Mary Kay couldn't come out and tell her friends what had been going on and with whom.
“It was too much for her,” she said later. “I think there was a shame factor there—religion hassles, which I don't think she's come to terms with. She's got this divider, one side, she's devout and believes in God, wants to do the right thing. The other side of her says, 'There's nothing wrong with having fun. God wants me to have fun. God wants me to live life, and damn it, I've embraced that.' “
The police had been by to make sure no other children had been molested by their favorite teacher; the school made offers of crisis counseling for those who needed it. And, of course, the media was sniffing around. As for Vili Fualaau, he was still in class at Cascade Middle School. Shorewood music teacher Beth Adair wrote a note to Mary Kay describing how Vili was: “spaced out and subdued.”
Chapter 37
HANGING OUT AT a friend's house in Kent on a rainy Friday evening, February 28, 1997, Amber Fish answered an urgent page from her older sister, Lisa.
“Amber, did you hear the news?”
“What news?”
“Get a hold of Angie quick!”
“What news?”
Lisa didn't want to say and instructed her sister to call their mother and she would fill her in. Amber hung up and dialed. Joy Fish answered and told her that a teacher had been arrested for molesting a student.
“On Channel Four they're saying it's Mary Kay.”
Amber got into her car and drove to another friend's house where Angie was visiting. The twins and their friend watched the news report on the local late news. In shock and full of disbelief, Amber and Angie realized there was only one thing to do: they drove to Normandy Park to see Mary Kay. They knew it was late and that all hell had broken out, but Mary Kay was their friend and they wanted to support her.
Something's not right here. There has to be a mistake, Angie thought.
Amber said it out loud.
“It's just allegations. It was some kid just making this up. Mary Kay? I'm just sure.”
Angie agreed.
“Not Mary Kay.”
Just as the Fish twins, then just nineteen, turned into the driveway, the Letourneaus' '94 Plymouth Voyager pulled in ahead of them. The driver didn't get out right away and just sat there. The girls thought it was Mary Kay and got out and approached the driver's side.
Mary Kay kept facing straight ahead, until Amber got her attention, and in an instant a look of surprise and exaggerated delight washed over her face.
“Girls!” she said, getting out of the car and hugging them, first Amber, then Angie, who lingered a bit behind her sister.
“Look, you guys,” Mary Kay said, gesturing to her pregnant belly. “I'm six months! Can you believe it's number five?”
Amber and Angie were breathless. Though they hadn't seen Mary since July, they had talked on the phone at Christmas and there had been no mention of a pregnancy.
Mary Kay kept rambling.
“Oh, I missed your birthday,” she said. “I'm really sorry!”
The sisters said that was all right. They had come to see her because they had heard some things on the television news about “some allegations.”
The smile vanished. “Great,” Mary Kay said, “this will probably be in the newspapers tomorrow.”
Then she started to cry and slumped back into the driver's seat and fiddled with the keys, still in the ignition. Amber and Angie moved closer and stood next to her; the rain fell hard, but it didn't matter much to them.
Mary Kay admitted that she had stayed in the van in the driveway without getting out because she thought some reporters might have followed her.
And then she talked for the next hour or two, and though the former neighbors and favorite baby-sitters knew nothing about what Mary Kay Letourneau was saying, they didn't ask any questions to fill in the gaps. In fact, neither said very much at all. They didn't know what to say. They didn't know if she was confessing to a crime or telling them the whole thing was some big mistake.
Mary talked in a stream-of-consciousness manner that was almost incoherent and then stopped to cry. Her tears seemed to fuel her and she would talk some more.