by L. C. Morgan
“Oh my God. Close the blinds. The sun is the devil.”
Alyssa emerged from the bedroom and Amber followed closely behind her.
“Where are my glasses? I need my glasses.”
While Amber frantically searched the living room for her sunglasses, Alyssa followed me into the kitchen. She sat at the table while I prepared us some very strong coffee.
“I feel like maybe I should apologize for last night. I never drink that much. But the good news is, I learned my lesson and never will again.”
“Is this puke?” Amber appeared in the doorway, her bug-eyed sunglasses pointed down at her sleeve as she walked into the kitchen. “Whose puke is this? Why do I have puke on me?” She sat down, stretching her arm across the table.
Alyssa reached out and picked at the dried substance before sniffing it. “Yep.” She straightened and crinkled her nose. “That’s definitely puke.”
“Yeah, your puke,” I said to Alyssa then turned to fill the coffee pot with water. I talked over my shoulder at them. “Don’t you guys remember anything?”
They looked at each other and I sniffed a laugh, turning back to pour half the amount of usual water into the pot. Strong. It needed to be strong.
It took a couple minutes to brew, then I passed them each a mug and we sat in silence as we sipped, listening to the wind blow against the house. I wasn’t mad at them like they probably thought. I felt strangely serene even though I had a lot on my mind. Firstly, I needed to finish up my conference notes.
“I do recall Sonia talking about some farmer’s market going on today down by the docks. Once the room stops spinning and Amber changes her shirt, we should go. My insides could use some fresh fruit.”
Perhaps I could put the note-writing off for just a little while longer.
“What do you say? Is it a date?”
I nodded, somewhat happy Alyssa suggested something other than shopping. Though it was still technically shopping. At least it was outside in the sun. I needed some sun.
Setting down her mug, Alyssa straightened in her seat as if she’d just remembered something. “Did I make out with Sonia last night or was that a dream?”
“A dream,” Amber mumbled into her coffee cup.
Alyssa sighed. “Oh thank God.”
Alyssa finished her coffee then went home to shower and change, leaving Amber and me to do the same. Amber touched up her nails as I dried and curled my hair. When Alyssa returned, we piled into her car and took off for the docks.
It was a beautiful day to spend by the bay. Not a cloud in the sky. While the breeze was cool, the sun was warm and I was glad I’d dressed fairly light.
Once we parked and reached the stands, all three of us took off in different directions. Amber for the vegetables. Alyssa for the fruit. And I for the pies they had piled by the checkout. I was craving apple with a scoop of vanilla ice cream on the side something fierce.
“Apple. Great choice. That’s my favorite too.”
I looked up to find Harbor Master Russ standing beside me. All I could think was, he was my neighbor’s stepbrother. He was Coll’s stepbrother. Him and he were stepbrothers. They were stepbrothers. Stepbrothers! My mind screamed at me so loud I didn’t hear the next thing he said.
“I’m sorry?”
“My grandma, she made them. They’re the best. Not too sweet. A little salty.” Handing me a sample cup, he motioned with his hand. “Go on. Try for yourself.”
Using the little wooden dipper, I spooned a biteful into my mouth. “Mmm.”
“Yeah?”
I nodded, covering my mouth self-consciously when he didn’t look away.
“Mmhm … Yeah. Not too sweet. A little salty.” I returned his smile from behind my hand. “I’d say you’re right. Grandma’s is the best.”
“I’ll be sure and tell her you said so.”
Russell offered to peruse the market with me. I agreed on the one condition that he held open and lugged all the bags I filled. He surprisingly knew a lot about fresh produce and was an immense help. Turned out he cooked in his spare time, trying out new recipes. A commendable hobby.
“I’d invite you over sometime to try one, but you’ve already turned me down twice, so …” He shrugged. “Believe it or not, I do know how to take a hint.”
I wasn’t sure he did because either he was trying to guilt me into agreeing for once or he was actually asking me out again. For the third time.
“And I’ve never been one to step on my brother’s toes.”
“What do you mean?” Bagging a few carrots, I moved farther down the stand. Russell followed.
“You and Collin. It’s kind of an unspoken rule that we all don’t date the same women.” He shrugged.
“Oh, we’re not dating,” I said somewhat defensively, giving him a look before turning back to handle a couple tomatoes.
“Coulda fooled me, the way he was actin’ last night.” He sniffed a laugh. “Thought he was gon’ hand me my ass right then and there in the bar. ‘Course that could have had something to do with me mentioning Dad. Those two never did get along. But that’s neither here nor there.”
Instead of digging in deeper as to why Collin and his stepdad didn’t get along, I let Russell go on about the apples his grandma used to make the pies sitting up front. There was a secret ingredient no one knew as she refused to share it with anyone.
“Not even Rachel.”
“Rachel?” I asked, and he nodded, tossing a couple apples in my bag.
“My ex-wife.”
“You were married?”
“Sure was. For about a month.”
“Just a month? What on earth happened? If you don’t mind me asking.”
“No, it’s all right. It’s really no different from every other stupid sailor’s story. We were young and dumb. I got her pregnant. Only difference was she miscarried and we divorced a month later.”
“Oh, that’s awful. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It was awful but it’s been, what, ten years now? Yeah. I was around Coll’s age. So yeah, ten years. You kinda become numb to it.”
I could see that. After all, Amber still talked about the night it had happened to her back in high school. Relieved and forever guilty about it, that was how she explained it. Sometimes she still sat and wondered who he or she would have become. “You never forget, you just get used to it,” she said.
“He’s not as stupid as I was back then.”
“Who’s not stupid?”
“Collin. He’s stupid, but not as stupid.”
“Oh, right. Okay.”
“I think he’s mainly learned from our mistakes. He told you we have four other brothers between us, eh?”
I nodded.
“Two are married and tied down to women they don’t particularly care for, let alone love.”
I crinkled my brow. “How do you know they don’t?” I asked, a little uncomfortable with discussing his brothers’ relationships.
Picking up a cherry tomato off the ground, he popped it in the pocket of his cheek to talk out of the side of his mouth. “They were stupid like me.”
As we rounded our way back to the checkout, Alyssa and Amber showed up to take advantage of Russell’s bag-carrying services. I thanked him for offering up all my produce and a pie for free, but insisted on paying.
“What would my grandma say if she found out I had my friends paying for their food?”
“I don’t know. That you’re a pretty savvy businessman for not giving all her goods away and actually making her a little bit of money today?”
Russell smiled but still refused to let me pay, promising to foot the bill himself.
“You’ve got my word. Grandma won’t miss a penny of it. Scout’s honor.” He did a two finger salute, winking as I waved and turned away.
Amber threw her arm around my neck as we walked to the car. “That was pretty nice of him, carrying our bags and offering to pay for everything. He may be a little on the older side with that s
alt-n-pepper hair, but I’m thinking maybe you picked the wrong brother.”
“How did you know they’re brothers? I didn’t tell you.”
“Ah, how quickly you forget that I have my ways.” She checked me with her hip. “Plus, you talk in your sleep.”
It was going on dinner time when we got back to my place. Still not feeling well, Alyssa dropped Amber and me off then headed home herself, which was probably a good thing. I needed to work on my notes as soon as I was finished with dinner.
Following me into the kitchen, Amber sat down her bag and pulled out a tomato. “I’m thinking nothing fancy. Maybe I’ll just have this tomato and turn in early. Sound like a plan, Jan?”
“Sure does, Cuz. Why don’t you take the bed again tonight. I’ll either sleep on the couch or crawl in with you later.” I shrugged. “Whichever.”
Biting into her juicy tomato, Amber nodded. I waited until she finished and went to bed before pulling out the Doritos and a can of Diet Coke and settling in to work on my notecards for the conferences the following day. These notes weren’t going to write themselves, and I didn’t trust myself enough to remember every important detail about every last kid in my class off the top of my head. While they were generally well-behaved, there were a few … quirks some had that needed attention brought to them. The sooner the better.
For example, Jada’s temper. She was an angel when she got her way, but quickly stripped her disguise when she didn’t. She’d gotten into more than one fight since the beginning of the school year. I’d sent letters home. In fact, I’d sent multiple letters home for multiple students, but never heard anything in return, so I definitely needed to bring that up.
Grabbing another notecard I quickly jotted it down.
“What else? What else?” I tapped my chin with my pen before pressing it back down onto the notecard.
What I once considered a generally well-behaved first grade class no longer seemed it the more notes I made.
Bobby lied about everything and rarely ever listened.
Max doodled on the desks and defaced others’ property.
Molly continuously lifted her skirt. And her twin brother Marty dropped his pants on a regular basis.
“I work with nightmares.” Sticking a Dorito in my mouth, I chewed slowly. “They are absolute little terrors.”
My revelation came with a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. I had based my decision to become a teacher solely on the fact that that was what my mother always wanted to be. Instead she married rich and lived vicariously through me. I thought being a teacher was what I wanted until I realized what a responsibility it all was. That the kids weren’t as malleable as I thought they would be. And more often than not their parents just didn’t seem to care. What was I supposed to do with that?
Setting my notes aside, I closed my eyes and massaged the bridge of my nose. All this thinking was giving me a headache and making it a little hard to breathe. Grabbing my sweater off the back of the couch, I made my way outside to get some fresh air. The plan was to sit on my front porch swing and try not to think, but I took the stairs instead, heading over to my neighbor’s when I found his truck sitting in the driveway and him rocking in his chair.
Chapter Eight
I was in the middle of my third parent/teacher meeting when my mind started going numb. My emotions had run from especially nervous to sweaty dread and well-disguised anger. The only thing keeping me sane and not repeatedly flinging myself over this desk was the impromptu discussion I’d had with Coll the night before.
Who knew what I was thinking when I went over there or that I would find the answer I was so desperately seeking because I did? I had probably been intruding on his solitude. But the steady rock of his chair had beckoned me like a beacon and the moonlight led my way until the security light clicked on. And I’d sat down on the top step of his porch, facing the bay.
“What do you think about kids?” I asked out of nowhere, like he was my best friend and it was girl time. Maybe it was because I needed to talk and Amber was asleep.
“About having them or in general?”
“Both, I guess.”
“I don’t.”
“Neither? Ever?”
“Neither. Never. Why? You sayin’ you wanna have kids with me?”
His question caught me off guard and gave me a strange feeling in my stomach, but I ignored it. I knew he was kidding. He was always kidding. I could tell he was smiling by the tingle on the back of my head.
“No. I just think I made a mistake is all.”
“Mistake with what?”
“My life.”
We sat in silence for a moment, listening to the lapping waves of the bay before I spoke again.
“You ever feel like you made a mistake with your life?”
“Every damn day.”
“Do you ever think of doing anything about it?”
“What’s there to do?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. Go back to school or something.”
He huffed a laugh. “No. Didn’t even go the first time.”
“Well, I’m thinking about going back.”
The creaking of his rocker stopped. “Back where?” he asked.
“To school,” I said, and the rocking started back up again.
“And why’s that? You don’t like being a teacher?”
I squinted up at the moon. “I don’t know. I thought I did, but it doesn’t really seem like there’s any point anymore. I don’t think I’m making any difference anyhow.” I shrugged.
The rocking of his chair stopped again. I hugged my legs, resting my chin on my knees.
“I bet you’re making a difference,” he said, no doubt in an attempt to make me feel better. Either that or shut me up.
Turning my cheek to rest on my knee, I looked up at him. “And how do you know that exactly?”
He stared out in front of him and shrugged. “You’re nice. The only teacher I remember is Mrs. Baker. And that’s because she was nice.”
“The art teacher? That Mrs. Baker?”
“Yeah. She still around?”
“Yeah. And she’s still nice, too.”
“Well, see. There you go. She was nice and I’m still talking about her. I bet when the kids think back on your class they’ll all say, ‘Remember Miss Wells? She was nice.’” He looked at me then. “Don’t you want to be remembered as nice?”
I held his stare as long as I could stand before looking back out over the bay.
“I’ve seen the drawings the kids made for you. They like you, so you should stick with it. Keep being nice. Maybe make them a batch of those cookies you promised me but still haven’t made good on.”
I smiled at the ground.
“I bet those would make a difference.”
“Miss Wells? Miss Wells. Hello?” There was a tap on my desk. “Are you listening?” My smile faded as Mr. Miller’s face came into view. “What do you mean my children are constantly disrupting the class? Are you actually paying attention to them or dazing off like you’ve been doing with me?”
It took everything I had not to flare my nostrils and flick my pen at him. “Yes, Mr. Miller. I most definitely am paying attention, as are the other students. I’ve had multiple complaints from other parents as well. Their kids are coming home asking them questions about specific body parts.”
“Well, hell.” He slouched back in his chair. “What is it exactly that they’re doing?”
Mr. Miller’s cheeks blanched when I told him about Marty and Molly’s risqué behavior and how I’d been unable to stop it. He left with a promise to put an end to the mayhem before they returned to school the next day. I, for one, would have liked to see him try. Still, it was the most progress I’d made all day. After learning that Kaylee’s foster parents were having troubles and could quite possibly have to put her back into the system, I’d take the small victory.
“Hey, there. How’s it going?” Alyssa poked her head in the empty classroom. I just
stared at her like she should know. Walking closer, she looked me over for battle wounds. “I don’t see any blood, sweat, or tears. So, pretty well, huh?”
“No.”
“No?”
Slouching in my chair, I leaned my head back, closed my eyes, and pouted a little. “No.”
So far, three sets of parents hadn’t shown up for their scheduled times. And the ones who had shown up didn’t seem all too happy to have to be there. I was dealing with a lot of attitudes, which in turn was affecting my own.
I peeked out of one eye as Alyssa leaned across my desk.
“I don’t want to tell you that you care too much. But you care too much. Just teach the kids their ABCs and one-two-threes and be done with it. No worrying about their well-being outside these walls, ‘cause if there’s one thing I learned in this life it’s that you can’t make a damn difference out there. The only difference you can make is in here and that’s on a good day. You just remember that, chill, and you’ll be fine.” Straightening, she picked at her nails. “You’ll sleep better, too.”
Once the next parent arrived, Alyssa took off for her own classroom, shutting the door behind her. I settled back in for a long day of parent conference hell.
Maybe I should have baked the parents some cookies, too.
*
“So, how’d it go? Was it as bad as you thought it was going to be?” Amber asked from her spot on the couch. Dropping my bag, I plopped down beside her.
“Could’ve gone better. Could’ve gone worse. You know how it goes.”
“True dat.”
She passed me the remote then finished up her nails before going into the kitchen and reappearing with a snack-size bag of Doritos and a Diet Coke. I almost got up to kiss her.
“Amber, sweet Amber.”
“Ew. Don’t reference me using that creepy-ass movie.”
“Did I ever tell you you’re the pagiest of all the pageboys and that I love you?”
“All right.” Frowning, she took back the remote. “No Seinfeld reruns for you.”
Amber’s threat was as empty as they usually were and she flipped the channel herself. We watched a couple episodes before I got up to bake some cookies for the class tomorrow, thinking about Kaylee’s sad situation. Passed on by three families in three years’ time. None of which were her fault. It just wasn't fair.