The Unremarkable Heart

the only way he could live out the rest of his life in relative comfort.
    And she would not die alone, unattended in a cold hospital room, the beep of a machine the only indication that someone should call the funeral home.
    And so, the man who had robbed her of her good reputation, her lifelong friendships, her comfort in her old age, would be the man who witnessed her painful death. And then he would reap the reward of the last thing, the only thing, they could not take away: the benefits of her tenure with the public school system.
    June chuckled to herself. Two birds with one stone. The Harris County Board of Education would remit a check once a month payable to Richard Connor in the name of June Connor. They would be reminded once a month of what they had done to June, and once a month, Richard would be reminded of what he had done to her.
    Not just to her – to the school. To the community. To Grace. To poor Danielle Parson, who, last June had heard, was prostituting herself out in order to feed her heroin addiction.
    June heard a loud knocking sound, and it took a few seconds for her to realize the noise was conjured from memory, something only she could hear. It was Martha Parson, banging on the front door. She pounded so hard that the side of her hand was bruised. June had later seen it on television. Martha held the same hand to her chest, fist still clenched, as she talked about the monster in their midst.
    Grace had been dead less than a month, and the police were back, but this time, they were there to arrest Richard.
    June’s default position whenever a child made a damning statement against an adult had always been disbelief. She could not be faulted for doing this at the time. This was not so many years removed from the McMartin preschool trials. False allegations of child abuse and satanic sexual rituals were still spreading through schools like water through sand. Kern County. Fells Acres. Escola Base. The Bronx Five. It was a wonder parents didn’t wrap their children in cellophane before sending them into the world.
    More girls stepped up for their moment in the spotlight: Allison Molitar, Denise Rimes, Candy Davidson. With each girl, the charges became more unbelievable. Blowjobs in the faculty lounge. Fingerings in the library. He let them watch adult movies. He gave them alcohol and took suggestive photographs of them.
    June immediately pegged them all as liars, these former friends of Grace. She thought with disgust about the fact that she’d had these girls in her home, had driven them to the mall and the movie theater and shared meals with them around her dinner table. June had searched the house, the car, Richard’s office at home and school. There were no photographs. The only alcohol in the house was a bottle of wine that had sat in the back of the refrigerator since June’s birthday. The cork had been shoved back into the open bottle. When she pried it out, the smell of vinegar had turned her stomach.
    If June Connor knew about anything, it was teenage girls. Half her school day was spent settling ‘she said’ arguments, where rumors and innuendo had been used by one girl to tear down another. She knew the hateful, spiteful things they were capableof. They lied as a way of life. They created drama only to embrace the fall-out. They were suggestible. They were easily influenced. They were spiteful, horrible human beings.
    She said as much to the detectives, to the media, to the woman who stopped her at the grocery store. Anyone who met June Connor during that time would’ve gotten the same story from her: I know these girls, and they are all lying for attention.
    For his part, Richard was outraged. Teaching was his life. His reputation was sterling, one of those teachers students loved because he challenged them on every level every single day. He had devoted himself to education, to helping kids achieve something in their lives other than mediocrity. The previous year, four of his kids had gone on to full scholarships at Ivy League schools. Twice he had been voted teacher of the year for the district. Every summer, former students would drop by his classroom to thank him for making them work harder than they had ever worked in their lives. Doctors, lawyers, politicians – they had all at some point been in one of Richard’s English classes, and he had done nothing but help them prepare for their exemplary lives.
    That first week was a blur; talking to lawyers, going to a bail