Where You Are

by J. H. Trumble

  He smiles sheepishly. “I took the fan page down. It was kind of a stupid thing to do. I hope there’re no hard feelings.”

  “Thanks.”

  He fidgets around. A month ago I would have found this irritating. It’s not so irritating.

  “I also wanted to tell you that, well, I told off Stephen Newman the other day. He said something pretty rude about Mr. McNelis. I wasn’t going to let him get away with it. I mean, if you like him that much, he must be a pretty good guy.”

  “Yeah.”

  There is one thing I’m looking forward to on my birthday—getting home to Spot II. His paws and his belly have healed, and he acts now like I’m God himself when I get home each day. This is why I’m so disconcerted when I pull into the driveway and see Nic waiting for me on the front porch. He’s holding a glass bowl of pink and white flowers, real ones this time. He hands them to me when I get to the porch. An envelope peeks up from the center.

  “I haven’t seen you in forever,” he says, pushing his sunglasses up to his forehead and squinting at me.

  “I saw you at lunch just yesterday, Nic.”

  “You know what I mean. Anyway, I wanted to say happy birthday.”

  I move past him to unlock the door but he grabs my arm and stops me.

  “You broke up with me because of him, right? Well, I want you to know that I forgive you for that. He totally took advantage of you, and it’s not your fault that you’re a pushover. But that’s okay. I like that about you.”

  I jerk my arm away and open the door, then whip back around. “Get off my front porch.” I shove the flowers back in his hands. He starts to protest, but I say, “Don’t,” and he rolls his eyes at me.

  “Why do you have to be so dramatic about everything?” he says.

  I want to laugh in his face. Instead, I turn my back on him, enter the house, and shut the door.

  Chapter 47

  Andrew

  Maya gives me a hard time about leaving the house that evening.

  “Look, I’m just running to the store for some razors.”

  “I can pick them up for you tomorrow when I go.”

  “I don’t need them tomorrow. I need them tonight.” I pick up my keys from the counter and shove them in my pocket.

  “Do you even have any cash on you?”

  She knows I don’t. “I’ll use my credit card.”

  She huffs. “You know this is a bad idea. Do I need to remind you what a small community this is? You are not a very popular man right now. You can’t just go to the store anymore, not until all this stuff blows over.”

  “And I can’t hide out in this house every goddamn day for the rest of my life. I have to get out of here.”

  “Well, maybe you should have thought about that before you dropped your pants with that kid.”

  I don’t believe her. I storm out of the house and slam the door behind me.

  In a back corner of the H-E-B lot, away from all the sodium vapor lights, I find a spot and pull in. The clock on the dash reads seven fifty-two. I kill the engine and watch for his car.

  At ten, I tuck my tail between my legs and go home.

  Maya doesn’t bother to ask me about the razors.

  Chapter 48

  Andrew

  Just as my lawyer predicted, the grand jury declines to indict me because of Robert’s age and his affidavit that our relationship was completely consensual.

  Three months after my arrest, I am cleared of any criminal charges, but my teaching career is finished. I’ve been terminated by my school, and the state is in the process of revoking my license.

  Crews from all four of the local TV stations this time are waiting outside the courthouse when we exit. My lawyer covers me on one side, Maya the other, as we hurry to our cars.

  We try to pretend like it’s just a normal evening. We have dinner together. I read Kiki as many stories as she wants, and when her eyes droop, I tuck the covers around her and kiss her good night.

  Maya’s waiting in the living room. When she hears me come in, she looks up from the spiral notebook she’s been keeping since I was first released from jail. The pages are filled with lists and plans and projections. I guess committing everything to black-and-white on paper empowers her. It’s funny, though . . . I’ve always found a certain kind of beauty in lists. But the only thing I find in her lists is despair.

  “I just talked to my principal,” she says with a small smile. “As soon as she can find a sub to finish out the school year for me, I’m free to go. It’s just a couple of weeks. Shouldn’t be a big deal.” She looks at me and her smile falters, but she continues with even greater energy. “And I talked to the Realtor this morning. She’s had a couple of bites and thinks if I’m willing to drop the price a little, she can get a contract by the end of the week.”

  I sit on the edge of the couch and clasp my hands together. I don’t know what she expects me to say. So I say nothing. Frustrated, she looks back at her notes like she’s missed something, and if she can just remember what it is and record it in her list, everything will be okay. Tears edge the lower rims of her eyes.

  “Talk to me,” she pleads.

  Her phone rings. She looks at the number, then disconnects the call. I glare at her. “Was that him?”

  She sniffs and glares back. “No.”

  I hold my hand out for the phone, but she slips it into her jeans pocket.

  “Let me have the phone, Maya.”

  “It wasn’t him,” she snaps. “Why can’t you understand that? He’s a fickle young man and he doesn’t—”

  “Give me the goddamn phone!”

  “No!”

  So I try to take it from her.

  “Stop it,” she says, twisting away from me.

  “I want the phone. Why won’t you let me talk to him?”

  “Because,” she screams at me, breaking free. Then she pulls the phone from her pocket and flings it at me. “Because he hasn’t called you.”

  I don’t believe her. I retrieve the phone from the carpet where it landed after bouncing off the couch and open her Missed Calls folder. The call was from some one-eight-eight-eight number. I open the All Calls folder and scan through them, too, but I don’t see his number anywhere.

  “It’s time to move on, Drew,” Maya says, crying softly. “We’ve got to—”

  “You’re right, Maya. It is time to move on. But not together.” Numbly I hand her the phone and collect my keys from the counter.

  “Where are you going?” she says, suddenly wild-eyed.

  “I’ve already reenrolled Kiki in Ms. Smith’s Village. They’re expecting her tomorrow morning. Mom and Dad paid her tuition for the next two months. As soon as I can find a job, I’ll catch up on child support.”

  Maya’s lip trembles and tears spill down her cheeks. “You don’t have to do this. Drew—no—don’t—please—wait. We can make this work.”

  “We can’t make this work, Maya. I don’t want to make this work. I want—I just—” I stop and will myself to hold it together. “Will you tell Kiki something for me?”

  “You’re just going to walk out on me and your daughter? Just like that?” She’s angry, and I don’t blame her.

  “Tell her that her daddy loves her, and he’ll see her soon.”

  Her breath hitches and she wipes at the tears on her face. I’ve left a small bag just inside the hallway. I shoulder the strap and let myself out.

  I’ve debated and debated whether or not to see Robert before I leave. It’s been so long. I don’t even know if he wants to see me; I don’t know if I want to see him, because seeing him will just make everything so much harder.

  I pull up to the curb outside his house and put the car in park, and I sit. One window is lit up, but I’ve never been in his house and have no idea if that’s his bedroom window or not. So many emotions jumble at the back of my throat, and I find it hard to swallow. When he didn’t rendezvous with me, it hurt like hell. I admit that. And I’d been so certain that
was him who’d called earlier. How could I have been so wrong?

  Through the white shade I see some movement in the room. Two people. Then the shade shifts and a little black-and-white dog works his way between the shade and the window. “Hey, Spot,” I say softly.

  I wait, hoping Robert will retrieve the dog and I’ll get to see him, but after a minute or two, the dog backs his way out and disappears into the room.

  I put the car back in drive and head out.

  It takes about fourteen hours to make the eight-hundred-fifty-mile drive to my folks’ house. I drive straight through the night, stopping only for gas. I’ve made myself a promise—when I get there, I’ll allow myself to feel.

  I keep my mind busy. Outside of Huntsville, I try to calculate the time it takes to destroy a man’s life. Maybe two seconds to swipe a phone. Another fifteen to jot down a phone number and a note (Anybody going to Saturday’s concert? Call me.) and pass it around the room just so I’d take it up and everyone would know I took it up. Five minutes to take a couple of photos and fake some text messages. A half a minute maybe to make an anonymous phone call. Another five minutes to walk from my classroom to the office and claim he was too ashamed to tell anyone about my “advances.” Eleven minutes. Less time than it takes me to shower most mornings.

  Outside of Dallas, I try to calculate my debt. Student loans, attorney’s fees, car loan, back child support, credit cards. I can’t even wrap my brain around the number. It might as well be a million dollars.

  I’m crossing into Oklahoma as the sun rises on the passenger side of my car. For the last hour or so I’ve been thinking about all the reasons why I couldn’t stay—Maya, no career, no job, the public humiliation. Those things have kept me up at night for weeks, but there was something else, something I just couldn’t live with.

  It was the fear of seeing that light go out in Robert’s eyes when he realized I wasn’t as clever or as smart or as good-looking as he’d once thought I was. That fear that one day I’d no longer be someone he looked up to, someone he admired, respected. I’d just be another loser with worn-out soles on my shoes and cheap twill pants.

  Maybe to him I already was.

  I pull into a Shell station and maneuver close to a pump and get out. It’s hot and I think we’re in for a scorching summer. I stick the nozzle into my gas tank and lock it. I’m surprised to see a pay phone on the outside wall of the station. I leave the pump and call Mom and Dad to let them know where I am.

  Mom answers. “Are you okay, sweetheart?”

  Hearing her voice rips something open in me. I start to say yes, but my voice catches. I swallow hard and croak, “I’ll have to call you back, Mom.”

  “Drew, where are you?”

  I somehow manage to tell her, then I fumble the phone back on the hook and grip the edges of the privacy wings as all the feeling I’ve been holding back finally overwhelms me.

  Robert

  I don’t understand. I will never understand.

  I’m furious that Ms. Momin blocked my number, but he could have found a way to contact me. And then when I stopped by last night, she told me he was gone. Her eyes were red, and I could tell she’d been crying.

  “Just leave him alone, Robert,” she’d said. “If he wanted to see you, he would have seen you. You have no idea what this has done to him.”

  “Where did he go?”

  “You just don’t get it, do you?” she’d said. “You practically destroyed him. He’s lost his career, he’s lost his reputation, and you think he’s just going to pick back up with you now that he’s free? It’s not going to happen.”

  I didn’t want to believe her, but he had no reason not to see me last night. He could have, but he hadn’t. I understood that we couldn’t be in contact while he was waiting for his hearing with the grand jury, but that was over. And yet, he’d left without so much as a good-bye.

  “Hey, man.” Luke takes the chair next to me as I’m numbly going through the motions of warming up. He opens his clarinet case and begins snapping the pieces together. “I saw the news last night.”

  “Yeah.” I stop and adjust my mouthpiece for something to do.

  “So, what happens next?”

  “Nothing. He left last night.”

  “Is he coming back?”

  I look at him, and I burn with jealousy. I remember how Curtis fought for him. I really thought Andrew would fight for me. I thought what we had was solid, real.

  I think about those months before he was arrested. The time we spent together, the things we talked about. I really felt like his equal. And now, I just feel like a student who once had a crush on a teacher.

  “No. He’s not.”

  Chapter 49

  Andrew

  I’ve lost track of the days. My time at home has been a blur of sleep, self-pity, more sleep, Rice Krispies Treats I don’t eat and hot chocolate I don’t drink, overly cheerful chatter from my mom, and silence from my dad. My jeans, when I bother to put them on, are loose, and I don’t care.

  I can hear Mom and Dad outside my door, arguing quietly. The bright sunlight seeps through the blinds. Groggy and with a pounding headache, I drag the clock into bed with me and press the button on top to light up the display: 3:00 PM.

  I can feel an intervention coming on. It won’t be the first.

  When the door opens I pull the quilt up over my head. Just as quickly, someone yanks it back.

  “Drew,” my dad barks. “Enough. Get up. Get dressed. We’re going for a walk.”

  I don’t want to walk. I don’t want to talk. I don’t want to do anything.

  Mom pretends to be busy scrubbing the sink as Dad silently hooks the leash on Shep’s collar and hands it to me. “I’ll have an early dinner ready when you get back,” she offers as he opens the back door and gestures for me to walk through it.

  Shep takes the lead and I trudge along behind him. Dad walks with his hands in his pockets. When Shep stops to lift his leg to a curb, Dad turns to me. “You need a shave, and you need a haircut.”

  He waits for a response from me, but he doesn’t get one.

  He takes a deep breath, then lets it out with an, “Aw, hell.” Shep starts to walk on and I start to follow, but Dad takes the leash from me, and I dissolve into tears. I haven’t cried since they picked me up at that gas station some two weeks ago or so. I drop my head and hug my arms to myself. I don’t want to do this, but I can’t help myself anymore.

  “Goddammit, Drew.” He hooks his arm around my neck, and we walk on. “You screwed up, Son. There’s no denying that. But that doesn’t make you a screwup. It’s time to be a man. Stop this wallowing and take charge of your life. I know you don’t think so, but you have options, and you have Kiki to think about. That adorable little girl needs her daddy.”

  She’s not the only one, I suddenly realize. I need mine too. I stop and fall into him and let him hold me while I get it all out. When the sobbing eases up, he sits down on the curb and pulls me down with him. Shep pushes his wet nose into my palm.

  “You’ve had two weeks of your mom’s coddling, Son. I’ve given you that. But that’s over, okay? You and me, we’re going to work through this. You need a job, and you need a plan. You’re a bright young man. You can do anything you want to do.”

  “Except teach,” I say, my voice cracking.

  “Then you will turn your talents elsewhere. I’m not going to do it for you, Drew, but I will support you in whatever you decide.”

  I sniff and wipe my eyes on my sleeve. “Can I ask you something?”

  “You can ask me anything.”

  “Are you disappointed in me?” I blink a few times, then turn my head to him.

  “Oh, Drew.” He stretches out his legs. “I’ve known you a long time, Son. At first, yeah, I was a little surprised, maybe even shocked. This Robert was your student and that is a sacred relationship. But I’ve never known you to be anything but completely honorable. Sometimes too honorable.”

  He smiles and s
cratches Shep’s head, and I know he’s thinking about my marriage to Maya.

  “So,” he continues, “I have to believe that he was someone pretty special to you.” He pauses and fixes me with his eyes. “I just don’t know what you were to him and whether or not he was really worth everything that it cost you.”

  I can feel the tears pricking at my eyes again.

  “Look, Son, there’s an opening at the kiosk in the mall. It’s a decent job with some upward mobility. I’m not going to pave the way for you, but you’re certainly qualified and it’s a start.”

  Selling cell phones? Is that where all my education has led me?

  Dad seems to understand my silence. He pats me on the back. “You can stay with us for a while, get caught up on your child support, pay down your attorney’s fees some. And when you decide what you want to do with your life, you can move on.”

  Robert

  I look away. This should have been one of the best days of my life. It’s not, and I can’t pretend any differently.

  Mom lowers the camera and sighs. “It’s just going to take time, baby.”

  Time is something I have way too much of.

  “Give me the camera,” I say, changing the subject. I hold out my hand.

  She looks at me curiously. “Why?”

  “I want to take a picture of you.”

  “I’m not graduating. Why would you want a picture of me?”

  “Just because.”

  She hands the camera over with a curious smile, then strikes a diva pose. I snap a photo, then a few more because she will have photos.

  “Enough,” she says, laughing. “This is your big day.”

  “Yeah. Community college, here I come. Watch out world.”