The Teacher

by Gray, Meg

  Tucking the notes inside her lesson plan book Emma turned on her CD player, inserted a Classical collection of Mozart then got straight to work. She started by taking down her March calendar pieces. When school resumed it would be April and they would start a new round of math concepts in their calendar routine. The hours passed quickly and Emma was startled when she heard footsteps behind her.

  * * *

  Marcus’s eyes searched the classroom, grazing over Ms. Hewitt sitting at one of the child-sized rectangle tables. “Have you seen Brayden?” he asked abruptly.

  “No,” she said. “He should be in the gym with the other kids.”

  “Well, he’s not. I thought he might still be in here with you,” Marcus said, spinning on his heel. He marched back down the hall, the soles of his shoes clicked hastily beneath him. Where could he be? Marcus thought. How could nobody in this God forsaken place know where Brayden is? Panic was setting in and his mind clouded with fear. He had to stay calm, he had to keep his head and find Brayden.

  There were soft, hurried footsteps behind him. Brayden? He spun around to see Ms. Hewitt trailing him. Her face mirrored the panic he felt inside. Together they walked into the gymnasium and a herd of children swarmed them. They flocked to Ms. Hewitt like the paparazzi to a movie star. One little girl shamelessly threw herself at Ms. Hewitt and wrapped her arms around her teacher’s legs.

  “Ms. Hewitt,” the little girl wailed. “I missed you sooooo much.”

  “I missed you too, Naomi,” Ms. Hewitt replied, gently prying the girl’s arms from her legs. “We’re looking for Brayden. Have you seen him?”

  The girl shook her head.

  “Was he at school today?”

  “Yes,” the little girl said and bobbed her head up and down.

  “Where is he then?” Marcus barked, pushing his suit jacket back and planting his hands on his hips.

  The little girl and her flock of friends stared up at him, embers of fear burned in their eyes, and not one of them offered an answer.

  Ms. Hewitt took the girl’s hands in her own, “Did Mrs. Rodriguez walk you all down here today?”

  Naomi nodded.

  Who the hell was Mrs. Rodriguez? Marcus wondered.

  “And was Brayden with you then?”

  Again, a nod and Marcus felt a grain of relief. Brayden had been gone no more than three hours, according to this five-year old girl. Still a lot could happen in three hours. He ran his hand over his head, the urgency of finding Brayden made him restless. He didn’t want to stand here and drag answers out of a little girl. He wanted to find his son.

  “Have any of you played with him?” Ms. Hewitt asked the entire group and they all shook their heads. “Did any of you see him leave with anyone?” Again, heads shook.

  Then where the hell is he? Marcus wanted to know.

  “Mr. Lewis why don’t you go outside. See if he’s playing with the kids on the playground equipment.” Marcus moved on Ms. Hewitt’s order and dodged the little bodies running around the gym floor. He found the supervising adult outside and told her he was looking for his son, Brayden.

  “I haven’t seen him,” she said with a dismissive shrug.

  Marcus could feel his blood begin to boil. “Well, he should be here,” he boomed and stalked off ready to cover every square inch of this place.

  * * *

  Emma turned back down the hallway. The other children had returned to their play, except Naomi and her friend, Ashley, from Susan’s class. Both girls took her hands. Emma tried to understand how Brayden could have gone missing. She was terrified—where had he gone, what could have happened?

  If she had been here today, this never would have happened. Losing a child is beyond the worst nightmare for a teacher and the pit in her stomach was growing as she walked down the hallway. Naomi and Ashley dropped her hands as she poked her head in the boy’s bathroom, “Brayden are you in there?”

  No answer, but just to be sure she stepped inside to confirm the room was empty.

  Next, she checked the coatroom. The room was tiny, a former janitorial closet lit with a single bulb. A series of hooks lined the perimeter of the room, about three feet up the wall. The hooks were rarely used—the kids usually threw their backpacks and coats into a pile on the floor—leaving a heaping mess. Stepping inside Emma scanned the pile and saw a blue Transformer backpack propped against the back wall. It might not be Brayden’s—his wasn’t the only Transformer backpack she’d seen traveling the halls of the school—but it definitely looked like the one he carried. A blue and black fleece jacket lay next to the backpack—it looked like Brayden’s too.

  She lifted the backpack and there was Brayden sound asleep on the floor, his face was pink and she could see the steady rise and fall of his chest.

  “I found him,” she shouted as joy exploded inside her like a firework. “I found him,” she said again to Naomi and Ashley. “Go and tell Miss Lisa and Brayden’s dad that I found him.” The girls ran off, holding hands, and happy to do the bidding of their teacher.

  “Brayden,” she said softly and shook him, but he didn’t rouse. “Brayden,” she said a little louder, then touched her hand to his forehead. He burned with a fever. She shook him again and this time, his eyes fluttered open. “Brayden, it’s Ms. Hewitt. Are you okay?” He sat up, his eyes half closed and his head bobbed forward as he nodded. Emma dropped to her knees and gathered his warm body on her lap. His head fell on her shoulder and he was fast asleep again. Emma blew out a huge sigh of relief. Brayden was okay. She rocked him in her lap. Mr. Lewis arrived, stopping in the doorway of the coatroom. His eyes went from his son to her—worry replaced the panic in his eyes.

  “He’s okay,” she said calmly. “He feels like he’s running a fever, though.” She stroked the hair back from Brayden’s forehead. Brayden’s eyes fluttered open. He looked up at her.

  “Why were you gone today?” he asked and Emma let out a little laugh.

  “Because I was helping take care of my very sick nieces.”

  Mr. Lewis squatted down next to them. “You okay, Bray?”

  Brayden nodded and licked his parched lips.

  “You don’t look so good, pal. You should have called me. I would have picked you up early. It’s no good to be at school when you’re sick.” Mr. Lewis’ voice was so gentle and soothing and his blue eyes were soft with compassion. Emma was surprised and warmed by the sound of his voice.

  “But you said we couldn’t go to the Blazer game tonight if I had a stomach ache.”

  A look of recollection passed over Mr. Lewis’s face and he nodded. “You’re right I did say that.” He looked at Emma, “He’s been complaining about a stomach ache all week, I just thought he was trying to get out of coming to school.”

  “We’ve had a lot of kids out sick this week,” Emma said. “Looks like Brayden finally caught it.”

  Mr. Lewis nodded as Emma passed Brayden off to him and then they both stood. Emma picked up Brayden’s coat and backpack and followed Mr. Lewis out into the hall. Brayden’s head rested on his dad’s shoulder.

  Emma handed over Brayden’s things.

  “Thank you,” he said with genuine appreciation.

  “You’re welcome.”

  Mr. Lewis hesitated. “Can I offer you a ride home?”

  “No, no,” Emma said. “You don’t need to do that.”

  “It’s no trouble. Your place is right on our way. It’s the least I can do for your help.” Mr. Lewis tightened his grip on his son with one hand and rubbed his back with the other. Emma was touched again by the softness in his voice.

  “Okay,” she agreed. “I’ll just be a minute.” She had more work to do in her classroom, but the search for Brayden had drained her. Her throat was beginning to burn and her body ached, probably the onset of the flu. She wouldn’t get much done if she stayed.

  Mr. Lewis smiled at her, the curved lines around his mouth deepened and Emma realized it was the first time she had ever seen him smile. It suited him,
softening his features and Emma was struck by his good looks. Was it him or a fever coming on that was responsible for the heated sensation she felt right now?

  “I’m right out front,” he motioned toward the front door. “We’ll wait for you.”

  * * *

  Brayden was asleep in the backseat when Ms. Hewitt slipped into the passenger seat. Marcus eased the car onto the street, neither one of them spoke until he pulled to a stop in front of her apartment building.

  “Thanks for the ride,” Ms. Hewitt said quietly and looked back at Brayden who was still sleeping.

  “You’re welcome,” he said, feeling like the words were wrong. He was the one indebted to her. He should say something more. “Oh here,” he said, remembering the tickets in his pocket and pulled them out. “I guess we won’t be needing these tonight. You’re welcome to them, if you have somebody you’d like to go with.”

  “Thank you,” she said, accepting the tickets on her way out of the car.

  Marcus watched her walk inside and didn’t pull away until he saw the third story light come on.

  He drove off thinking about how lucky he was that Ms. Hewitt had been at the school. He was afraid to think about what he might have done to the other two teachers there, who didn’t seem to care one way or another if Brayden was found. Ms. Hewitt jumped right in and helped him find his son.

  Marcus had been terrified, feeling so out of control, like the night, he stood by and watched the firemen search his home for his family. It was a terribly helpless feeling, one that Marcus didn’t wear well.

  At least when Marcus had stood on the street watching his home turn to an inferno he knew where Brayden was, albeit trapped inside, he had a location. And he wasn’t alone, Marcus was able to picture him inside with Vanessa. But tonight the vast possibilities of a location rendered him almost broken. And the horrific images of him being lost and alone or worse abducted by some senseless criminal made him sick inside. He’d felt himself unraveling out there on the playground as he searched each child’s face in the waning light and looked into every shadowed space until he heard the little girl screaming, “Ms. Hewitt found him! Ms. Hewitt found him!”

  Marcus parked the car and loaded his arms with his briefcase, Brayden’s backpack and his sleeping son. The elevator pinged at his floor and he glanced at Brayden as he stepped off. He kicked the door to his condo closed behind him, careful not to let it slam and wake up Brayden. Slowly, he climbed the stairs to the master bedroom.

  He laid Brayden down on the king-size bed and reached out to touch him—to make sure he was real, safe and sound in their home. Marcus’s arms shook from carrying the weight of his son into the condo, but he needed the tangible reassurance. The heat from Brayden’s skin reminded Marcus of the fever and he went in search of the thermometer and medicine. He stopped in Brayden’s room and found a neatly folded pair of pajamas in his drawer.

  He took Brayden’s temperature and gave him a dose of medication, dropping the liquid in his mouth. Next, Marcus took Brayden’s shoes and socks off. Brayden moved like a rag doll as Marcus worked at pulling his shirt over his head and replaced it with his pajama top. The pants were easier to wiggle him free of and the pajama bottoms slid right on.

  Covering Brayden, he went downstairs and heated his dinner in the microwave. He ate standing up over the sink and listened for Brayden. He finished his meal in a few bites and left the plate in the sink, returning upstairs. He set a glass of water on the bedside table and again touched his son, gratitude flooding his every pore.

  Marcus changed into sweatpants and a t-shirt before pulling the blankets back on his side of the bed. He fluffed the pillows up against the headboard and grabbed the remote. He flipped the television on and found the channel airing tonight’s basketball game. Brayden stirred next to him at the noise.

  “Hey, Bray,” Marcus said. “Let’s get you a drink of water.”

  He reached for the glass and held Brayden up so he could sip the water.

  “You want to watch the game?” Marcus asked, setting the glass back down. “Maybe we’ll see Ms. Hewitt sitting in our seats.”

  Brayden rubbed his eyes. “Yeah,” he mumbled and grabbed a pillow, throwing it on Marcus’s lap, lying horizontally across the bed. Marcus stroked his son’s hair and thought of how Ms. Hewitt had done the same thing to him back at the school. She’d held Brayden so tenderly. She had a gentle touch, a way with children that he admired. It was a foreign concept to him. His own mother left the child rearing to their nanny, Rosa. Vanessa had been like his mother in that way too. Having an infant who relied on her was tough and that’s why Marcus hired Rosa, to help Vanessa while he worked his long hours at the office.

  Marcus realized Brayden hadn’t had many caring women in his life and was thankful Ms. Hewitt had found a way into his son’s life.

  Brayden’s eyes fluttered closed again, when Marcus’s cell phone rang. He snatched it up, not wanting the ring to disturb Brayden.

  “Hello,” he answered, muting the game on television.

  “Hi, this is Ms. Hewitt. I was just calling to check on Brayden.”

  “Oh, well,” Marcus replied, pleasantly surprised. “He’s doing fine. He’s right here next to me and we’ve got the game on. Are you there yet?”

  “No, I decided to stay home. My roommate is using the tickets. He was pretty excited. I hope you don’t mind me giving them away.”

  “Not at all,” Marcus reassured her. “I guess you’re not a big Blazers fan?”

  “It’s not that. I think I’m coming down with the flu too,” she said.

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Marcus said with genuine empathy.

  “It’s just part of the territory when you’re a teacher.”

  “I bet it is,” Marcus said and then there was a pause.

  “I want you to know how sorry I am about what happened today. If I had been there, this never would have happened. I probably would have noticed Brayden feeling sick earlier in the day and I would’ve sent him home. I’m just so sorry.”

  “This wasn’t your fault and the important thing is that Brayden is okay.”

  “You’re right,” she agreed.

  “Where were you today?” he asked feeling bold.

  “Oh, I was taking care of my nieces. They’ve been sick too and my sister needed help so,” she stopped and Marcus heard her pull back from the phone and sneeze.

  “Your sister is lucky to have you,” Marcus said, thinking to himself how he’d felt lucky to have her around too. “I really appreciate you calling.”

  “Of course,” Ms. Hewitt said. “I also wanted you to know that I’ll be talking with Mrs. Wolf and the after-school teachers to put some procedures in place, so we can keep better track of our kids. Trust me, this will never happen again.”

  “I do trust you,” Marcus said, surprising himself as the words came out.

  Silence hung on the line.

  “Ms. Hewitt, can I ask you something?” Marcus looked down at Brayden’s innocent face. It wasn’t going to be easy to ask her this question, but he had to. He just admitted that he trusted her and now it was time to act on it, for his son.

  “Sure,” she said.

  “Do you really think this testing for Brayden is necessary? Do you really think it will help him?” He knew he wasn’t going to like the answer, but he waited for it.

  Ms. Hewitt took a heavy breath on the other end of the phone, “Yes, I do.”

  “Alright then,” he said, swallowing hard. “I will be in on Monday, after Spring Break, to sign the consent forms and you will have my full cooperation.”

  “Okay,” she said and he could hear the hope rise in her voice. “I will make sure all the forms are in the front office for you. Thank you.”

  “Thank you, Ms. Hewitt, for everything,” he said.

  “Please, Mr. Lewis, you can call me Emma.”

  “And you can call me Marcus.”

  Chapter Twenty

  The library was as gloomy a
s a mausoleum. An early morning meeting had been called for all teachers. Emma stared at the man talking. The more he talked the more she equated him with the grim reaper.

  “It’s important you not show up on these days,” Mr. Deeds, the union rep, said as he pushed up the sleeves of his black turtleneck sweater and adjusted his rimless glasses, which immediately slid back down his long shapeless nose. His hollow cheeks began to flush, as he rushed through the delivery of the district’s demoralizing news—budget cuts.

  The district, finding itself once again low on funds, had elected to scratch seven days off the school calendar from now until June. Most of the days were non-contact, days the students already had off, like teacher workdays and conferences. Fewer days translated to less pay for everyone.

  “We have to send a message to the administration that if they won’t pay, then you won’t work.” Mr. Deeds snaked his paper thin body through the tables and chairs handing out a half sheet of paper as he made his plea.

  Easy for him to say, Emma thought as she waited for him to reach her side of the library. Neither his job nor his students’ learning was at stake. If she didn’t get her report cards marked or her lessons prepared it wasn’t the administrators it would impact, but her and her students. She would work longer hours, to make up for the cut days, and get paid less just like everyone else in this room.

  Emma looked down at the paper Susan slid across the table to her outlining the effects of the pay cuts. The biggest cut came in June and Emma wondered, staring at the reduction, if her check would be enough to cover the month’s rent and bills. She was probably going to have to dip into her savings again—and start looking for a summer job. The thought was discouraging and depressing. She wished Seth was home this week so she could whine about her latest plight to him, but he was in Sacramento. Instead, she would bake a deep dish of fudge brownies when she got home and eat them right out of the pan. That might boost her spirits.