by David Clark
“Of course not. We have long outgrown putting a potato in your car’s tailpipe or a whoopie cushion in your chair. I will say toilet papering your rose bushes is still not out of the question though.” Mark gave Edward a light slap on the back. “Do you think Robert will mind if I take him up?”
“Not at all. I will send him up to see you as soon as he returns… and you two, stay away from my rose bushes.” Ms. Adams issued that warning with a rather humorous shaking of the fingers at the two nearly forty-year-olds like they were still the same mischievous kids they were back then.
“Let’s go. It is so good to see you Eddie…” and with that, Mark walked Edward out of the office and up to his classroom. The walk turned into a dizzying fast trip down memory lane, some of the memories just as if they were yesterday, others he didn’t remember at all. As Mark continued to recount their childhood, Edward took in the school and looked for any other friendly faces he might recognize. It has been thirty years since he saw any of his old friends, but there may be a chance he might recognize a few. Mark recognized him, even though he didn’t recognize Mark. When he accepted the job and decided to move back home, he knew running into his history would be something he would not be able to avoid. The thought both excited and terrified him.
“So where are you living?”
“Back at my parents’ old farm with my kids.”
Edward’s response caused Mark to pause for the first time since he greeted him in the office. The thought of someone moving back into the home where their parents were murdered may be disturbing, but Edward couldn’t see any other option.
Mark broke the awkward silence and asked, “Back home with your kids. Wow, you are all grown up. How old are they?”
“My daughter Sarah is sixteen and Jacob is seven.”
“Sixteen, huh? So, going to school here? My son Chase is seventeen, he’s the tight end on the football team, even has a few schools looking at him for a scholarship. Mostly just Division II schools, nothing like your dad, the legend, did back in his day. But hey, you can get a great education at those places and that’s what matters, right?”
“Absolutely… and yes, Sarah thinks she is going to die a million deaths going to the same school I’m teaching at. This would be the first time that has happened.”
A wide evil grin stretched across Mark’s face. “Oh, really? Then you, my old friend, are in for a treat. First, there is the seeing each other in the hallway and they turn and go the other way. Then there are the crazy looks at home followed by the random accusations of embarrassing them by doing absolutely nothing. But the best of all… you ready for this? The looks you get from your fellow teachers for something they did.”
“I see what I’ve been missing out on for all these years.”
Mark stopped at a door and turned toward Edward. Assuming this was his classroom, he looked up and saw the “343” on the sloppily painted around room number plate. He now saw why Principal Stephens might be yelling at the painters. Edward started to tear open the envelope with the key but stopped as Mark reached forward and opened the door.
“Too much time in the big city. We don’t lock anything around here.”
He was right, Edward had spent too much time away from the small-town environment. The thought of not locking everything up from the front door at home, his car, and even the door to his classroom was completely foreign and unnerving. “I guess there is a lot I have to get used to, Mark. I spent most of my life in places where they locked everything.” Edward decided not to elaborate on the last part of that statement. He was not sure how anyone would react to hearing he was locked away in a mental facility for a while.
Before he stepped into the classroom, a voice echoed from down the hallway. “Mr. Meyer, I see you found your classroom.”
A mid-fifties, balding man wearing a buttoned up white shirt, black slacks, and black rimmed glasses walked toward them. He extended his hand toward Edward, who returned the gesture. He had a firm grip, evident by the twitching muscles exposed below his rolled-up sleeves.
Going out on a limb, “Principal Stephens, it is great to meet you.” Inside, Edward hoped this time he was correct.
“Call me Robert. I insist.”
With confidence brimming from being right, he said, “Alright, then. You can call me Edward.”
“I will, except when students are around. I see Mark showed you to your classroom. So, what do you think? Not the same as what you are used to?”
With a sheepish tone to his voice, Edward confessed, “Well, actually, I haven’t been in yet.”
“Don’t let me stop you. Let’s have a look.”
Edward stepped inside and returned to a simpler time. The walls were painted cinderblocks, not drywall or paneling like he was used to. Lights hung from a dropped ceiling. A real blackboard with chalk hung on the front wall. No dry erase board here. The student desks were single unit metal seats with wooden backs and desk surfaces. One detail made Edward go wide-eyed. All along the back wall and continuing along the side of the classroom under the windows were bookshelves with what looked like complete classroom sets of the classics. Melville, Wells, Bradbury, Steinbeck, Bronte, and others. He hadn’t seen such a display since he was in school and even then, it was only a book or so. At his last school, a handout listing where to obtain the books at a discount was the closest he came to this.
Edward stood speechless a few feet away from his desk, next to his own overhead projector. He took it all in before uttering a single, simple word: “Perfect.”
He saw a sense of surprise at his remark on the faces of Robert and Mark, so he explained. “I’m serious. This is perfect. The newer schools with all their technology and perfect modern classrooms are rather… institutional.” Not really, Edward thought to himself, but he could not think of another word at the moment. “There are times you feel disconnected from the students in those environments. The simple experience of reading from a proper book and not some e-reader creates a more lasting memory and experience. The feel and smell of the old papers that have been flipped through by scores of students before you. And the desks, proper desks. Most of the classes I have been in had tables and chairs where many students would have their back to me. I would have to either remind them to turn around or walk around the class as I lectured and talk to make eye contact with them while losing the connection with others. This is perfect.”
Principal Stephens looked rather pleased with the explanation. “Great. We still do a lot of things here the older ways. We find they still work. I will let you get settled in. The first faculty meeting of the year is at ten in the auditorium. See you there.”
With the principal gone, Mark closed the door behind him. “Eddie, I need to show you one trick. Don’t let Robert’s nice guy act fool you too much. He has a few quirks.” Mark walked to the back of the room, where a clear box hung on the wall. “He wants all classrooms kept at seventy-two degrees, but on this side of the school the sun can make things warm in the afternoon.”
Mark fished a bent paperclip out of his pocket as Edward moved in for a closer view. Holding it up on display with one hand and pointing out the shape with the other. “If you bend it just right you can push it into one of these vents on top of the box and slide the lever slightly, kind of like that.” Edward heard a click followed by the sounds of the overhead air conditioner starting. A few seconds later, a slight breeze of cooler air moved around him.
Feeling there was an obvious question hanging in the air, Edward asked it. “Wait, there is a lock on the box. We don’t get a key?”
“Nope, not at all. Robert has one, each of the custodians have one so they can reset them each night, and that is it.” Mark held up the bent paperclip. “I have my special key. I will show you how to make one.”
“Appreciate it.”
Mark hung around and helped Edward set up his classroom, even though it was basically ready when he walked in. They moved the desks into neat rows. Edward’s desk was in the center
of the room, but he preferred to stand there during lectures, so they pushed it toward the side of the room. Edward half expected to clean most of his first day, but he found himself astonished at the cleanliness of this classroom.
While they moved things around, Mark and Edward continued catching up. Edward told him about his wife, how they met, and how he lost her, which was the catalyst to moving back to Miller’s Crossing. Mark felt bad and gave Edward his heartfelt condolences. He married his high school sweetheart, someone Edward remembered as Skipping Sharon. She skipped everywhere. Down the hallway. Across the schoolyard, hell, he even remembered seeing Sharon skip across the classroom once when the teacher called her up to her desk. Skipping without a care in the world with her long brown pigtails bouncing behind her. Edward was tempted to ask Mark if she skipped through the house, but decided to leave the past in the past. Mark told Edward she sold real estate across the three towns that made up their county seat. To Edward, it sounded like Mark has a very happy and stable life with a good job, loving wife, great kid, the complete package. Lucky bastard.
Just before ten, they headed down to the faculty meeting. During the walk, Mark addressed Edward with a hint of cautiousness in his voice. “Eddie?”
“Yes?”
“Been meaning to ask but wasn’t sure how. How are things back in the old home?”
“It has been good. I hired someone to keep up the maintenance on it while I was gone, and he did an excellent job. Need to do a little cleaning. Not too much. The kids will do more of it today, I hope. We should be able to finish the rest tonight.”
“That is not what I meant.”
Edward suspected that, but hoped he was wrong. He knew someone would eventually ask about this, considering the tragic circumstances that surround the last time he was in that house. “Oh, you mean….”
“Yeah, any ghosts from the past?”
Caught off guard by the choice of words, he hesitated before replying, “I won’t lie. It felt pretty weird the first time I walked in. A little flood of memories, both good and bad. Took me a bit to work up the nerve to walk into the kitchen. Part of me was afraid they would still be lying there, but having the kids there helps. We have been busy getting settled in.” Edward decided to leave it at that. No need to bring up what he saw the night before. No need to give anyone a reason to think he was odd, yet.
7
Edward stood at his front door, arms full of books and notebooks, beads of sweat on his brow. The stifling heat of the summer afternoon hit him like a blast furnace when he exited his car and walked the twenty feet to the front door, but the sweat could also be from the stress he felt. He had just under two days to plan out the entire year and review with the head of the language department. He usually used the lesson plan from the previous year as a basis to start from. Now, teaching twelfth grade English at a new school, he had to start over from scratch.
He tried several times to balance the books in one arm and open the door, to no avail. While he considered putting the books down, he took a chance and used his foot to gently kick the door three times. He stood there hoping to hear the signs of someone coming to open the door, but there was just silence. He shifted his balance to his left side one more time so he could try to knock on the door with his foot once more as the door opened.
“Not even the first day of school and you already have homework,” Sarah cracked from inside.
“Let’s see if you think it’s funny when this is you next week. HA!”
With an unamused eye roll, Sarah walked back toward the kitchen while Edward unloaded the books on the dining room table. The table served as a makeshift office for him, much as it did for his father growing up. Edward only remembered his family using the table to eat for special occasions like Thanksgiving. The large kitchen eat-in nook served his family fine growing up. It would work fine for the three of them.
“Did you guys finish unpacking?” he asked.
“Yep, well, everything but your stuff. I even cleaned a bit more. How did you live here with all this dust?”
Hearing his daughter complain about the dust reminded him of her mother, Karen. She was a major clean freak. The sight of their first house together almost caused heart failure. When they moved in, a layer of dust covered everything. She cleaned for close to sixteen straight hours, refusing to sit down until everything was spotless.
“It wasn’t this dusty when I lived here. Remember, no one has lived here for over thirty years.” All in all, Edward was impressed with how well everything looked, a combination of how well Mr. Morris took care of it and Sarah’s cleaning.
“Go get cleaned up. We are going over to an old friend of mine’s for dinner tonight.” Sarah let out a frustrated sigh, another trait she got from her mother, and stormed upstairs. Edward followed her to the bottom of the staircase and, just as he imagined his parents must have several hundred times, he yelled upstairs, “Jacob, get ready. We are going to dinner. You guys have thirty minutes.”
A groan echoed down the stairs from Sarah. Edward realized he didn’t tell her how long she had to get ready before that moment. Oops.
Just after 7:00, they pulled into the driveway of Mark and Sharon’s house. Mark must have heard them drive up. He was outside to greet them. Mark waved welcomingly from the porch as Edward and his children got out of their car.
“Hey Mark, did you hear us driving up?”
“Nah, it’s a great time of night. We spend a lot of time out here on the front porch.”
He remembered back to all the time spent on the porch in his younger days on nights just like this, something he would never do in the city. Too much traffic noise, smog, and any other of a number of things that made the experience unpleasant.
Edward herded his children toward the porch and introduced them to Mark. “This is Sarah and Jacob. Guys, this is Mark, we are friends from way back, well… when I was your age, Jacob. And now we teach together at the high school.”
Mark flashed a smile. “It’s nice to meet both of you. Come on, come on in.” He opened the front door and invited them all inside. “Sharon, Chase, our guests are here.”
No more than a few seconds later a middle-aged woman in short pigtails skipped around the corner and through the dining room. The display produced a huge laugh from Mark, and a nervous one from Edward.
“Sorry, I couldn’t resist,” she said. She took the hair ties out of her hair and let braids fall free; then walked up to Edward and gave him a big old country style hug. “Hi, Edward, great to see you again. Mark was right. You really haven’t changed that much.”
“Hi, Sharon, you haven’t either.” Which was the truth. Edward was usually bad with faces, but he recognized her right off.
Sharon turned toward Edward’s children, extending a hand to each. “And you must be Sarah and Jacob. Sorry about that earlier. Your father gave me a nickname back in elementary school. I couldn’t resist.”
“Wait now.” Edward thought for a minute. He didn’t remember being the original source of that name. “I may have used that name, but I don’t think I created it.”
“Oh please, I remember. I was seven and tripped in front of everyone while skipping down the hallway…” Sharon paused as she noticed the smile forming on Edward’s face.
Sheepishly, he confessed. “Guilty. I remember. You tripped, and I yelled, DOWN GOES SKIPPING SHARON.”
“Yep, and I didn’t care. I got right up and kept skipping.”
The three adults in the room had a great laugh while Edward’s two kids stared at them like each of them had three heads.
“Ah, Chase. This is Edward Meyer and his daughter Sarah and son Jacob. Edward and I were friends when we were kids and he will be teaching twelfth grade English this year.”
A specimen of a young man extended a hand and greeted him with a firm handshake, “Hi, Mr. Meyer. So, you replaced Mrs. Henson this year.”
“Uh yeah, I guess so. Nice to meet you, Chase. I hear you are quite the football player.�
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Chase modestly explained. “I play some ball, but nowhere near what your father was. We still see his name and records posted in the locker room and around the stadium.”
Chase turned his attention to Edward’s children “Hi. Welcome to Miller’s Crossing. Our um… little town.”
The normally not shy Sarah was wide eyed in his presence and shook his hand without saying a word. Edward had seen that expression on her face before. The father in him knew exactly what it was for. Oh boy, here we go again.
Sharon ushered everyone into the dining room where a great spread awaited them. Edward hadn’t seen a display of comfort food like this since his mother used to cook large lunches for all of their friends after church on Sundays. His mother and her friends took turns hosting these. The women would each cook a dish and the families would gather at someone’s house. After everyone ate to the point of being stuffed, the wives cleaned up and sat inside gossiping while the kids went outside to play a pickup game of baseball or football. The men were always out on a porch or in a barn of some type talking privately. When the kids ran through the house, the mothers kept on talking and acknowledged the kids as they passed through, but it was not the same with the men. If you came within earshot of the porch they were talking on or into the barn, they stopped talking and urged you to move along. They were always nice about it, but it was eerie how they watched you and didn’t start talking again until you were away from them.
After a great dinner, things proceeded much like those gatherings back in the day, but with a modern twist. While Sharon cleaned up, Mark and Ed were out back talking and Jacob was trying to play basketball with Chase; Sarah was just watching, well, watching Chase. Mark and Ed both tried to help Sharon clean up, but she insisted they go on outside. She even took a few dishes out of their hands. She said she had just a few things to put away and would be right out, which must have been the truth, as she joined their conversation just a few moments later. “Mark said you are living in your folks’ old place.”