All characters in the story are completely fictional and have no relation to any one person living or dead. All characters are also above the age of 18.
Chapter 1: The Job and Mrs. Bramstead
I sat in a waiting room with three other men about my age, all clearly having just left graduate school in search of a successful first teaching job. The difference between the other teaching candidates and myself was I did not need this job. After all, I was a Scarsdale.
Scarsdale's were known throughout New York City and high society for their extreme wealth but their joy of keeping job's that usually the middle class holds. My father was a great surgeon and instead of working a job at one of the finest clinics in the world he chose to work at an E.R. in lower Manhattan. My mother who was trained to be a great violinist settled for a life of relative ease but painful five year olds playing the violin; she became a teacher.
So then there is myself. Graduate of Bennington's High School, one of the finest private schools on the East Coast, who went on to be an undergraduate at Princeton majoring in Literature after which enrolling in Columbia Graduate School for Education, known as one of the finest institutions for Education. Why then was I applying for a job at a magnet school in Connecticut?
I suppose I wanted some real life experience and the best idea I could come up with was the idea of teaching at a school in Connecticut called Sinclair High School. I was applying for the Senior English Department which meant I would be teaching only Senior year of high school. The interesting thing about this year was the system was a year more than most high schools. Instead of the traditional four years of high school there were five, pre-Frosh being the first.
So I had my interview and my class session with the kids showing the faculty what I could bring to the school and I felt I had done reasonably well. The faculty seemed to like me sufficiently and I was able to strike up interesting conversation with the students. Being a Scarsdale we didn't have to give much effort to get people to like us.
My parents were that of the top breeding, much like horses. Not only was my father born rich but so was my mother. The most interesting part about their relationship was that they were both extremely beautiful and for a couple in their late fifties still are. My parents were very much in love at the time they married and still are which I suppose granted them the right to have me.
One of the things about being attractive is for the first few years of your young adult life when girls and adults keep telling you that you are quite attractive you don't believe them. You figure they must be mistaken and the girls must be horny so they just want to do anything to get you to bed. Then after a while you start believing them. You dress a certain way to accentuate your assets and you start working out at the gym to perfect yourself. Eventually you start believing what people have always been saying and you too belief that in fact, you are quite beautiful.
Therefore I had always been stuck with an air of confidence throughout high school, college and graduate school. I wouldn't say that I was promiscuous but I had quite a bit of sex. Of course this wasn't just loose sex I was having but it was relationships with quite a bit of sex.
So I continued to sit there as the three men next to me sat there as if they had just been called to the principal's office. I laughed under my breath looking at the three of them wondering why they were so nervous. I began to feel a little guilty because I knew they would give me the job here I was just too qualified for them not to hand it to me.
After a few more moments of sitting with these awkward gentlemen Harold Jameson, the Dean of Students, came out to greet me. He extended his hand as he walked across the room. I stood up meeting his hand with mine and shaking firmly. I gave him my usual nice boy grin and he smiled heartily back at me. "Come on in, we are all waiting to talk to you."
I followed him into the room where about five members of the school sat. I recognized all of them from previous meetings accept one. There was a woman in her late thirties or early forties sitting at the end of one table who was glaring at me. I stood by my chair waiting for permission to sit down.
"Please sit down." I took my sit quickly and thanked him. "I know you've met almost everyone here." The group nodded as I looked around. A few of them gave a cordial 'good to see you' or 'how are you.' Then I looked at the woman at the end of the table hoping to elicit a response.
"Nice to meet you Miss...?" I stretched out my hand to greet her.
"Julia Bramstead." Finally she spoke, "Mrs. Julia Bramstead." She didn't take my cuteness to call her "Miss" playfully as I had intended. This show of distance from such a beautiful woman was oddly arousing. Not only that but she had an amazing voice to listen to. She had a seductive nature to her voice, a calming purr yet a forewarning that she was that of a 1940's femme fatale.
The meeting began and Harold and other members of the school board spoke about what the school's mission is and how they go about their daily routines. I exchanged ideas briefly on how I feel class should be constructed and told them about the things I had learned at Columbia. Overall they seemed very impressed, all but Mrs. Julia Bramstead of course.
In general she seemed very uninterested in me. Occasionally it seemed as if she were bored of hearing me talk. A few times I had glanced over and seen she was either writing down notes or she was tracing her cheek with her index finger. For the hour that I was there she never once smiled and when she and I did make eye contact it was in the most condescending manner.
I left the meeting feeling very uneasy. I had gone in with confidence knowing I was assured the job. Still I assumed I had the job but Mrs. Julia Bramstead left me feeling uncomfortable. Who was she anyways? She was definitely not a teacher and it didn't seem she was a dean or member of the administration. All said I would still have to wait for the phone call from Harold.
Three days went by before I heard anything. I had occupied myself by going to the gym and sculling out on the Charles River. I had returned from an early morning on the water at about nine when I received the phone call from Harold.
"Pete." There was a tone of disappointment in his voice. "We have to talk. Look, it's not me Pete, I want to give you the job. It's that goddamn director of the Parent's Board, Mrs. Bramstead." So that's what she was. It seemed that Julia Bramstead was the liaison between the parents and the faculty. I continued to listen to Harold, "Don't be mad at me Pete. I want to give you the job but Mrs. Bramstead demands that she meets with you first. She said a few things about complaints she had about your character and your attitude towards learning. I don't know."
"My attitude towards learning?" I interrupted him. I had become severely annoyed by this woman very quickly. Apparently she was out to get me the moment I walked in the room.
"Look Pete, listen."
I wasn't in the mood to listen now. "Harold, can I meet with this woman?"
"Yes, she wants to meet with you tomorrow. Let me give you her number." Harold gave me the woman's number and as soon as we hung up and he apologized thirty more times I immediately dialed this woman.
I heard the low cooing woman's voice on the other end. "Hello?"
"Hi, this is Peter Scarsdale."
