by M. R. Joseph
"And now I would like to introduce our new 7th Grade Science teacher. Please help me in welcoming to Grayson-Elders, Mr. Daniel Mathewson."
I suddenly feel a sharp elbow to my rib. "Holy shitballs. Will you look at that?"
"Ouch, Willow. What the hell!" I look up after she eyeballs me.
I can't really see too well because it's so dark in here. I squint and I see what she's elbowing me about.
Tall.
Really tall.
Dark blond from what I can see.
Wearing a dress shirt with a tie and a vest.
Okay. So?
I turn to Willow. "Yea, and?"
"Jeez what is your vagina on hiatus or something? He's fucking hot, Harlow."
I’m still squinting. I find my glasses and stick them on for a better look.
Yes, he's handsome and looks young and sophisticated.
Then he speaks.
In an accent.
A British accent.
Willow's tongue half hangs out of her mouth, I have to practically shut it for her.
"Good morning. Thank you so much for having me. I’m very excited to start the new school year. It's quite different than the school where I previously taught at in England, so...well, just thank you all and I look forward to teaching here at Grayson-Elders."
I drop my tea and it spills all over my dress. I hop up and some kind of horrifying sound comes from my mouth. Everyone around me turns to look as I try and soak up what I spilled with a few napkins Willow hands me. As I try my best to get a hold of the situation, that’s when I hear Principal Sanders say my name.
Fuck me.
"Ah, well since she's standing up already and she was next on my agenda to address, everyone, let's give a round of applause to Ms. Harlow Hannum." Everyone starts clapping and thankfully they have no idea what I just did. This damn place is too dark anyway.
I give a shy smile and a wave and sit my embarrassed ass down as quickly as I can.
Willow leans over in my ear. "Nice job there, coma head. And I thought I'd be the one having to change my panties after hearing that guy talk." She winks at me and I cover my eyes. Principal Sanders continues to speak.
"Late last spring, Ms. Hannum gave us quite a scare as most of you know and we are all so glad she is back with us, healthy and happy. Welcome back Ms. Hannum."
The faculty smile at me and I just want to go hide under a bridge somewhere. Good Lord, help me.
When the meeting is done and everyone is excused to go set up their classrooms, Willow helps me maneuver my crutches through the aisle and down toward the hallway. When we get to my classroom and I take a seat in my chair, she slams the door and she looks like she's about to pass out.
"Oh. My. God. Did you see that shit? Did you get a good look at that guy? Did you hear him speak?" I just go about my business, unpacking a box and taking inventory of what's inside my desk.
"Harlow, you are just going to sit there and not say anything about that guy? What in the hell has gotten into you lately? Wait...I can answer that. Nothing! Your hymen has probably grown back and now you're a twenty-four-year-old virgin."
"Oh, good Lord, Willow. He's a guy. So what? Yes, he looked handsome. We see good-looking guys all the time. What's the big deal?"
She walks to my desk and leans her hands on the edges of it and gets down near my face.
"What's the big deal? I'll tell you what the big deal is. That guy is a certifiable panty dropper." She walks away toward the window and I sit back in my chair. Oh, my Willow is the queen of dramatics. I hear a slight knock on the door and Willow's back is still to me as she gazes out the window, still going on about how I need to get laid. The door to my classroom opens with the greatest of ease and in walks Daniel Mathewson. He hears what Willow is saying without her even knowing he's there. I put my finger up to my mouth for him not to say anything.
"I mean, my God, Harlow, I'd take his British arse right into that parking lot, get him in my BMW and show him the goods. I'd fuck that man six ways to Sunday, and upside down, and all around. I'd even roleplay and talk in his accent. ‘Oh, please sir, shag me harder than I’ve ever been shagged before. Oh, yes, sir, do me sir. Please, sir. Then take me out for some tea after you spank my bum and call me Sally.’" She does her best accent and I cover my mouth as to not laugh out loud. Daniel Mathewson does the same.
Good sense of humor he has already.
Daniel Mathewson is tall, I mean really tall. He has to be over six foot three. Thin, but a strong athletic build I assume. His hair is dark blond with slight touches of gold and light brown. It looks mostly colored that way from the summer sun. Ironically, his eyes almost match his hair. The skin on his face appears smooth and slightly tanned. His lips, peach in color and full. Small creases surround the corners of his eyes. They're subtle but are there. He has to be a little older than me and Willow. I’m guessing thirty? Maybe twenty-nine?
Willow finally takes a breath, and I motion for him to go with my hands and then to knock again. He does and that's when my crazy friend finally turns around.
"I’m very sorry to disturb you ladies. I just wanted to personally introduce myself since we will be teaching on the same floor. Ms. Hannum, is that right?" He extends his hand to me as I nod.
I shiver.
Why?
Why did I just shiver?
I pull my hand away but I’m not able to take break my gaze from his amber-colored eyes.
Finally, I will myself to.
"Yes, but please call me Harlow."
"Harlow, what a lovely name. Suits you well if you don't mind me saying so."
"Why thank you, Mr. Mathewson."
He interrupts me. "Oh, no please call me Daniel. And you are Ms. Taylor. Spanish, right?"
Willow almost sprints to shake his hand but for some odd reason when he asked her name, his eyes are still on me.
"Yes, nice to meet you, call me Willow please. And if you need anything, don't hesitate to ask."
She let's go of his hand after shaking it profusely about a hundred times. His eyes still focus on me then to the crutches beside me.
"I’m very sorry to hear of your accident, Ms. Hannum, I mean, Harlow. Mr. Sanders had filled me in on your situation briefly when I interviewed for the position. I’m quite pleased to see you doing well." His smile is unlike any I’ve ever seen. Bright, friendly, warm.
"Well, thank you so much, Daniel. It's been a tough road but it's getting better every day. I appreciate your concern." We smile at each other, never breaking eye contact, and my belly feels...it feels, kind of fluttery, if that's even a word. I look up at Willow, who looks to me then to Daniel.
"Well, I best be on my way. I have lots to do. Ms. Hannum, I shall meet you in the parking lot after school and we are going out afterward. Remember, I drive and we are going out for cocktails ’cause I am in the driver’s seat."
"Oh, is that your BMW out in the lot there, Ms. Taylor?"
In a sultry tone she answers Daniel, "Why yes it is, Mr. Mathewson."
"Interesting. Looks like it gets around and has lots of road miles on it. You know what I mean, here, there, upside down, and all around. She looks like she gets lots of what do you call it? Wear and tear?"
I can't help not to laugh. I may have even snorted and Willow doesn't get it. She has no idea what he's talking about. She flips back a piece of her blonde hair that's gotten in her eyes and walks to the door.
"Okay, well then, Har, I'll see you later. You need anything before I go? Try not to walk around too much. Save it for PT this week."
Daniel, smiling at me as he leans against the chalkboard tells her, "Oh, no worries Ms. Taylor, if there's anything at all Ms. Hannum needs, I'll help her for the time being." She winks and heads out the door.
Silence surrounds us. I look through some papers as he pushes himself off the chalkboard and stands beside me at the desk. I feel a bit awkward, and nervous, and I have no idea what to say next. I’m at a loss for words, for questions ev
en though I probably have a thousand for him.
"So, um how long have you been in the States?"
That's all you can think of, Harlow? Dummy.
"A little over a year. I live in Princeton. I am renting a house in North Ridge. Quite nice, too. How ’bout you?
"I live in Princeton as well. I bought my home a little over a year ago."
"Yes, Princeton is quite lovely. I love downtown. I’m a silly bloke who's a sucker for a good pub and a good cinema and you have such nice ones in Princeton. But stopping for a pint after work sounds good, too.”
"Cinemas?"
He laughs. "I’m sorry, movie theaters. We call them cinemas."
Oh God, I just sounded so dumb right there. What the hell is wrong with me?
"Yes, of course, Cinemas. I’m sorry. I knew that. My brain now-a-days. Sometimes my mouth doesn't catch up with it right away." I turn away from him a bit embarrassed.
"No worries. I always say only lovely things come out of lovely mouths." He gives me a megawatt smile and I smile back at him, feeling my cheeks blush, and my skin feeling warm and clammy. Maybe I need to eat or something.
"I've taken up enough of your time. I should go. Students will be arriving tomorrow and I need to get myself acquainted with my surroundings."
Then my brain catches up. "Oh, Daniel. What Willow was saying before, when you walked in, pay her no mind. She's harmless, a little outspoken but harmless. I’ve known her almost my whole life. She's actually quite a catch."
Daniel makes his way to the door. He glances over his shoulder at me, his amber eyes reaching my blue ones.
"I’m sure she is, Ms. Hannum, but she's not the catch I had in mind. ’Bye for now." He walks out the door.
Holy shit.
I’m sweating. I mean I’m actually perspiring. What the hell was that? Why do I feel the need to seriously go into my work bag and pull out my stick of deodorant? My headache is gone but I feel a bit dizzy. I don’t remember ever responding this way to someone from a first conversation. Is it just because I don’t remember or have I never responded in that way? My phone buzzes beside me. It's a text from Willow.
if you need a change of panties, I have a whole bag filled with them and they’re yours for the taking.
I reply back.
I’m fine you royal pain in my ass. my panties are just fine.
oh really? funny ’cause actually my panties are dry because I’m not the sucker for accents. in case you forgot, which I’m sure you did, you're the one. see ya later :)
Oh, shit. I am, aren't I? I think I just remembered something. I rub my temples and squirm in my seat. Shit, I do need a change of panties! What the hell?
It's going to be a very long year.
CHAPTER 4
Now what...
Cruz~
Walking away from her that day at the cafe was almost as hard as it was the day I walked out of her hospital room for the last time. When Porter called to tell me Harlow wanted to see me, I felt a glimpse of hope. That lasted about twenty seconds. The meeting wasn't meant for me to think she regained her memory and she remembered she loved me. She wanted to thank me. To thank me. She never has to thank me for anything. She is the love of my life. What was I going to do? Just let her lay there in a coma and not give a shit? Not even the old me would've done that.
When I saw her, all I wanted to do was take her in my arms, hold her tiny body, and tell her over and over again how much I loved her. I knew I couldn't do that. She's not the Harlow I knew. I mean, don't get me wrong, everything about her is my Harlow, my Turnip. Her eyes, her smile, her hair, her freckles. Just not her mind or her heart.
So what did I do when I got home? Drank a fifth of Jack and watched “Some Like it Hot”.
Pussy, right? Yea, well maybe. I didn't even give it much thought when I took out Morty and tried to spank it to Marilyn Monroe. Whiskey dick is the term they use and it described me. Perfectly.
If I keep drinking the way I am, my blood is going to be nothing but pure amber liquid. Fuck, when will this feeling go away?
My stomach is turning and my palms are in a constant state of perspiration. My heart races and I know I’m having a panic attack. I know I am. This is normal, right? To feel like I’m going out of my mind. Maybe I need meds. Maybe I need someone like Dr. Goldberg. I can no longer sit still. I can't stay in this shit-hole apartment and keep thinking about her ’cause she's the reason I feel like I’m going to jump out of my skin. I grab the bottle of Jack off the table. It's so easy to just take a swig from the bottle rather than pour it in the glass. I think my mind must think the effects of the alcohol make it into my system faster if I do it this way. See, my mind - all fucked up. I need to get the fuck out of here. I need a change of scenery.
***
I travel down the boardwalk. My feet not steady. I could very well get arrested for public drunkenness. Wouldn't that be a hoot? Me, a cop, arrested. As I walk, I see the souvenir shops, the ice cream stands, the arcades. People strolling by, looking at me. Are they looking at me? Dumb fuckers. Can't they understand a man in pain? Don't they realize I’m just a body floating around with nothing else? We used to walk along this boardwalk, her and I. We used to hang with the gang and ride the rides, and eat every kind of junk food that was available to man on these boards. Cotton candy was her favorite. The pink flavor as I recall. Sugary and sweet just like her, and it smelled like her, too. I am absolutely torturing myself by being on this boardwalk. I’m suddenly whipped out of my memories when some jerk hits my shoulder as I walk along, almost spinning me around from the force.
"Watch where you're going, fuck face." I hear him say to me. I turn, seeing three of him and I sway but by him calling me a fuck face makes me sober up just a bit, enough to go up to his face.
"Who you calling a fuck face, you ugly mother fucker? Why don't you watch where you're going?"
He gets into my face so we are nose to nose. I’m no stranger to this sort of confrontation.
"Who you calling ugly, you drunk? You smell like a fucking bar. Look at you. Fucking loser." His words cut at me like some kind of knife.
"Loser? Really? You wanna call me that again? I fucking dare you." I’m so close to this guy’s face I can feel him breathing on me. I shove at his shoulders. He stumbles a bit. His body is big like mine and his friends quickly surround us. I don't have anyone, just me. When I continue with the swaying they begin to laugh. That's when I take my swing but my arm only feels wind as it sails past his face and I lose any sort of balance. I don't fall. I just whirl around. Now I pissed him off.
I’m fucked.
I don't think I even feel the sting, feel the pain. All I feel are knuckles landing on my face, and in one second I’m on the ground. Shaking my head, I realize this asshole just knocked me to the ground and I can't get up. I can't even move. My drunken mind and weak muscles won't allow me to. Then they all laugh ’cause all I can do is sit here. There is a crowd of people around us. In my haze I see them pointing at me, I hear the words “loser” and “drunk”, and no one helps me. I’m left on the ground as they walk away. I don't go after the guy, I stay where I am, I stay who I am. The loser drunk who just got his ass handed to him on Sandy Cove's boardwalk.
Fucking loser.
I need to get away and do what I plan to do, as painful as it is going to be. I need to make her fall in love with me again. My fear—my worst fear—is that it may be too late and she'll never remember, and she’ll fall in love with someone else. I can't let that happen. I can't let another man love her, touch her, get into her heart. I need to leave here. I need to escape. I need my Turnip back. But, how?
***
When I pull into the driveway of my brother’s house, I see my sister-in-law, Bella, pulling my one-year-old nephew, Matteo, around in a wagon. I see him clapping his hands and laughing as she moves the wagon quickly across the lawn. God, to be so carefree without worries or knowing what heartache is. I wish I were like that now. I used to be.
&
nbsp; I get out of the car and walk up the pathway to the front of their house. Bella looks up and smiles then it fades into a frown. She picks Matteo up from inside the wagon and greets me.
"Nice, Raph. Black eye and you look like a pile of dog shit."
I snicker. She's right, I do, but I still snicker. "Thanks, Bella. Nice to see you, too." I take Matteo from her arms and he wraps his chunky little hands around my neck. I squeeze him and smother him with kisses.
Bella, still staring at me, points to the front door and tells me to go. Like a puppy dog, I follow her instructions and go inside.
When we get in the house, Bella tells me to sit at the kitchen table and I do with my nephew still in my arms. He traces my tattoos with his tiny fingers.
"What happened this time?" She goes into the freezer and retrieves an ice pack for my eye. She wraps a dish towel around it and places it on my eye. I hold Matteo with one hand and the ice pack with the other.
"Some asshole started with me on the boardwalk." She doesn't look surprised.
"And you were just doing nothing? He just came up to you and punched you in the eye? Come on. Really?"
I laugh, "Yea, really. I bumped into him or he bumped into me, I can't remember. He started mouthing off to me and I started right back."
Crossing her arms in front of her, looking unconvinced. "And that's all?"
"No," I say in a cocky tone.
"Well then. What happened after that?"
"I pushed him, then I tried to take a swing, and then he hit me."
Letting out a small chuckle, she makes her way back to the fridge and grabs a bottle out for Matteo. She hands it to him and he grabs it and swigs back the milk like I do with bottle of Jack.
"Well, I'd hate to see what the other guy looks like after he hit you."
I stay silent, just holding onto Matteo and staring at the table.
"You hit him back, right, Raph?" Bella asks me.
I shake my head.
"I see. Why not?"
I don't want to tell her that I was too bombed to get up and finish what was started, but I have an idea she already knows.