by Lia Davis
Chapter 8
Violet crossed Friday off on her refrigerator calendar when she got home from work. It’d only been four days since Noah had left, and even though they’d spoken every day since, she felt his absence boring a hole in the pit of her stomach. She cried herself to sleep every night while hugging his pillow. It still had him on it. Her behavior resembled that of a teenager’s, but she didn’t care. She’d always envied her teenage friends who were in love. Such passion! Such angst! Every emotion was always a hundred times more intense than ever before. She’d traded that experience for practicality and self-preservation. Now, she was making up for lost time and experience.
All week long, her students were jacked up on Halloween candy they’d stolen from younger siblings, and every time she entered the hallway, she prayed Cassie wouldn’t happen to walk past. Luckily, she kept to her own stretch of high school territory. The last thing she wanted was a confrontation at school.
She wasn’t the only one acclimating back into the swing of things. Noah had told her the night before last, that when he’d gone through his messages, he’d acquired a bunch of orders to be filled within a few weeks’ time. So many, in fact, he hired someone temporarily to help carry out his designs. Even though swamped, he’d stuck to his promise and made airline reservations for Thanksgiving. She’d circled his arrival date on her calendar the minute he’d told her. By the time he finished his last order, he’d be ready to come back down to her.
Keeping herself busy until then would be thankfully easy. Besides all the papers she had to grade for school, she decided to write a book about Annabelle and Benjamin’s forbidden union. Since she knew the basics— they were lovers, Annabelle had gotten pregnant, and Benjamin escaped ultimately up north— Violet could take these nuggets and craft a sweeping historical romance.
Nine o’clock on a Friday night, her laptop open and ready, and all she wanted to do was talk to Noah. It was about that time, so she sat, like an expectant pup, staring at her screen, willing Skype to come to life. They decided talking and texting was not good enough. They needed to see each other. Not two minutes passed nine, and he answered her wish.
“Hi, Noah!” She waved like an idiot.
“Hey, honey. How are you? You look great.”
He looked exhausted, with dark circles under his eyes emphasized by poor lighting. Not wanting to add to his weariness, she mustered her best “everything is fine” demeanor and answered him. “I’m good. Happy the week is over. Why does a four-day week always seem longer than a five-day week? I don’t get it.”
“I know, right?” He tried his best to stifle a yawn, but failed miserably.
“Noah, everything okay with you?”
“These orders are kicking my ass, even with the guy I hired. I’m smelling wood in my sleep and dreaming about more orders coming in. There aren’t any, but my dreams don’t know that.”
“In other words, you’re stressed out and overworked.”
“Yes. Put simply, yes. So, tell me, how was the week on the whole? Did you run into Cassie at all?”
“No, thankfully. Next week we have a faculty meeting scheduled, so we’ll see.”
“Anybody treating you...differently?”
“You know, I haven’t noticed, so I’m hopeful that she’s keeping this between us only. It wouldn’t serve anyone any good for her to spread gossip around. I miss you.”
“I miss you. Every time I sand down a spindle or a leg, I think how I’d like to be sliding my hands over your body.” He breathed heavily, closed his eyes and pantomimed running his hands up and down in the air. It got her pulsing racing something fierce. Then he opened his eyes and sat upright, suddenly quite alert. “So! How’s your romance novel going?”
“Oh,” she said, fanning herself and forcing her breathing to return to normal. “I’ve only gotten as far as the prewriting stuff. Hopefully this weekend I’ll begin to write Annabelle and Benjamin’s love story.”
He leaned in close to the screen. “Just make sure, when they have sex, you use us as your frame of reference.”
“Oh, most definitely!”
“Would you care to show me what you had in mind?” He wiggled his brow and smiled not-so-innocently.
Now she leaned in close to her screen. “Only if you help me.”
“Gladly.”
“Well then.” Her eyes narrowed and she offered a crooked grin. “Show me yours and I’ll show you mine.”
He complied. “You know,” he said, hamming it up while removing his shirt and pants, “I used to dance in a strip club when I was younger to pay my way through college.”
“No! You’re such a liar!”
“I swear, I’m telling the truth. I was the Magic Mike of the Rockaways.”
“Noah, I am not that gullible.”
Still jiggling his assets for her to ogle, he asked. “Would you believe I danced on a local TV show for teens?”
Violet cocked her head to the side and squinted her eyes. “That I would believe.” She reached into her purse and tossed dollar bills at the screen while roaring with laughter. “Woohoo! Show me what you got, baby! Show me what you got!”
He inched his briefs down, mooning her, and then revealed the money shot in all its glory.
“Oh yeah, baby! That’s what I’m talkin’ about!”
He took a bow and sat back down, legs spread apart so his fine form could be seen in all its grandeur. “Your turn, okay?”
“Okay, I’m ready.”
“I want you to take off your shirt slowly. Inch it up. Tease me good, baby.”
Violet stretched her collar to show her shoulder, and then turned her attention to the bottom of her shirt. Inch by inch, she raised it, revealing the bottom of her breasts.
“No bra? Oh, you’re killing me over here.”
She winked and used her hands to massage her breasts underneath her shirt. She lowered it and stretched it so her taut nipples punched through. Noah had taken to massaging himself, as well. He looked hungry. For her. She tore off her shirt, tossed it aside, and took up kneading her breasts and teasing her nipples for his pleasure. “You like?”
“Yeah, baby. I like. I want more. Take off your pants.”
She stood and turned, rubbing her ass through her yoga shorts, imagining his hands in her place. Rolling the waistband down, she bent over, giving him the perfect view as she slid the shorts to her ankles.
“Geezus, Violet. Turn around and show yourself to me.”
With her thumbs, she lowered her panties and sat down, one leg up and one leg splayed to the side. He’d begun to stroke himself, and even with the crappy video, she could see a light sheen develop on his chest.
“Touch yourself for me, baby. Let’s do this together now. Look at me. Do this with me.”
Violet didn’t need any more verbal prodding. She reached down between her legs and touched herself. She’d gone hot and wet the minute she’d seen his naked body, and now, she was full-on ready to get her orgasm on. Her fingers rubbed against her sensitized folds and teased her clit before plunging inside. Noah had stopped directing her and simply groaned his pleasure. He pumped in earnest now as he watched her pick up the pace. She was so close to the edge. Just a little faster and a lot frenetic.
“I can’t hold out much longer, baby. Come with me.”
“Oh, God, Noah! Now, now, now! Ahh,” she groaned and writhed on her chair. She forced her eyes to stay open to watch as he came. And he sure did, staring straight at her.
Breathing heavily, he grinned. She grinned. And they both laughed.
She extended a pointed finger at him. “If you tell a soul about what we just did, you are dead meat, Noah Blackman!”
He raised his arms in surrender. “I swear, no one will ever know. I can’t believe we just did that, though.” He shook his head and blew out a huge breath. “Whew! You know, I think we got something going here. Might just help make the days go by a bit easier.”
“And here I thought you were helpin
g me write a sex scene for my book.”
“I was!”
“Um, they didn’t have Skype in the 1800’s, my dear.” Another fit of laughter rocked them both.
“I gotta clean up, honey. I’ll call you back when I’m done. Love you.”
“Love you!” Violet showered and threw on her shirt and shorts.
While waiting for Noah’s call, her thoughts traveled to Benjamin. He’d left her, too. She hadn’t seen him cross the back lawn since Noah left. Maybe her second conversation had satisfied his soul. Well, no one being around didn’t satisfy her soul one bit, but Skype was her new best friend. She lounged on her bed, wondering how long it would take this guy to clean up and call her the hell back, but didn’t last long before succumbing to sleep.
Monday came swiftly, along with the great possibility of a tropical storm to come by week’s end. The cloudless sky belied the danger that roiled in the Atlantic Ocean. By Wednesday, clouds would be rolling in, breezes would turn to variable gusts, and supermarkets would be emptied of their contents. Violet made a mental note to shop after school. She’d checked her generator before leaving for work, and it was in great shape. The windows she couldn’t reach from the outside, she’d board up from the inside. Better that than nothing at all.
Tomorrow would be sandbag day. She knew a guy who could help her with the haul. All storms affected the river. Nothing could be done about it, but in the two years she’d lived in Savannah, it had never risen so much as to flood it. The most she’d experienced was hearing the raging rush of the bloated river from inside the house, and when she went out to look, it had crept up the river bank a good twenty feet. Still, it hadn’t crested the bank, which was key. Plus, the house sat a few hundred feet back from there and on graded land, putting it about twenty feet above water level. She had to hand it to her family and the original builder of the house for their brilliant planning. Over the hundreds of years, the stone “fortress” had been re-pointed many times, she was sure, and it looked good and solid now.
The lunch bell rang and her students filed out, talk of the storm gushing from their mouths. She monitored from her doorway and smiled as her principal approached.
“Ms. Adams, may I see you in my office, please?” The twitch of a pencil-thin mustache raised warning flags, and her heart leapt to her throat.
“Of course, Mr. Jenkins. Right now?”
“Yes.” He turned and marched off, leaving her to follow like an errant schoolgirl. This was highly unusual behavior for him. Yes, he was known as meticulous, with no sense of humor, but he was intelligent and a strong instructional leader. What could possibly have him in a snit about her?
She walked into his office and closed the door.
“Have a seat, Violet.”
Okay, he’d moved on from formal to more casual. That was a good sign, she hoped. “What’s this about? You have me a bit worried.”
“It’s your lunchtime, so I’ll get right to the point.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that.”
“We’ve had a complaint from a few parents.”
“A complaint? About what?” What on earth had she done? She wracked her brain at lightning speed in the hopes that nothing would come to mind. Nothing did.
“Well, they are objecting to a questionable writing assignment.”
“Mr. Jenkins, all writing assignments are a part of the curriculum and have been approved by the Board of Directors.”
“They say you’re having them write a series of journal entries as slaves. They are uncomfortable and think it’s inappropriate. They don’t want their children doing this assignment. So, you’ll need to toss it out and assign something else.”
Outrage filled her soul and threatened to let lose a mouthful of expletives, but she held her scathing tongue in favor of explaining the full assignment. “Mr. Jenkins, that is only half of the assignment. The other half is to write a series of journal entries from the point of view of a plantation family. Both parts of the assignment require the reading of primary sources and the use of textbooks from their American History class. I know for a fact they’re learning all about the time period leading up to the Civil War because I spoke with their teachers in order to give them an interdisciplinary experience. I’ve given this assignment before without issue. Why is it one now? And who are the parents so I can talk to them and explain?”
“I am not at liberty to say, as they are concerned about retribution against their children.”
“Retri—! Are you serious?” She shifted to the edge of her seat. “I’m stunned. I…I…I have no words. No, wait. I do. How could they think such a horrible thing of me? Never in my years of teaching have I ever had my character or integrity come into question. Nor have I ever been told my curriculum is inappropriate. Mr. Jenkins, this is simply outrageous, and you agreed with them. You’re really making me stop this assignment in its tracks and do something else. You are not one to kowtow to parents, especially when it comes to instruction. Why now?”
“It’s complicated, Violet.” He shuffled papers on his desk and rearranged his pencils in a neat row. “Let’s leave it at that.”
She eased herself back and clasped her hands together as she considered the “who” and the “why” of this dreadful situation. “I can’t just leave it at that. Parents are up in arms that their kids have to “assume” the persona of a slave in the 1800’s. Geezus, Mr. Jenkins, what does this smell like to you? Racism! Pure, unadulterated, disgusting bigotry. And you’re letting it happen. In. My. Classroom.”
“Violet, this isn’t some public high school you’re working at. Xavier Preparatory caters to the elite in our community, so you know the clientele here. These old-establishment families pay a great deal of money to have their children attend here. I said it’s complicated. Now, either remove the assignment or I’ll have to remove you from your position here. Your choice. Best to go get lunch before your time is up. Let me know your decision by end of the day. That’s all.”
Having been summarily dismissed, she bit her tongue, stood, and left his office. When she returned to her classroom, she couldn’t even think about eating. Those fucking bigots! Why this assignment? Why now? Something didn’t add up in this whole scenario. The assignment had been running without a hitch for two weeks. They were just about to switch focus from the slave entries to the plantation family entries. Why would parents raise concern now rather than when it was first given? Secondly, most of these parents were absentee parents, always away on business. None of her kids ever mentioned that their parents had seen any of their work. As long as their GPA’s were 3.7 or higher, they never questioned. So now they have a beef with her?
Third of all…well, there was no third of all. Jenkins had a point regarding their clientele. Elite, white, privileged, prominent families whose ties to the South went way, way back. Given Cassie’s demeanor the other week, it was possible a few parents were just as bigoted and stuck in the old ways and beliefs.
Cassie.
Would she have had anything to do with this madness? She was part of the team when Violet approached the teachers about the activity. Everyone loved the assignment and how it supported their teaching. The Halloween party followed soon thereafter. With a big enough chip on her shoulder from that bit of embarrassment and another chunk of her foundation shaken by Noah’s news, Cassie had reason to fuck with her in a devious, discreet manner.
What would Violet do? Her knee jerk reaction was to defy authority. This was one battle she was willing to put her job on the line for. There were probably a ton of school districts who would hire her even after blatantly disregarding a principal’s orders. Especially districts that believed in equality.
The saddest part of the whole mess was, if she tossed the assignment, the kids would be the ones losing out in the end. All they’d learn is how to tiptoe around an ugly piece of history, rather than absorb it and accept it, warts and all. Two periods left to teach before she could go home and forget this day ever happened. Violet
had to pee. She threw her wilted salad in the trash and headed for the restroom.
As she entered, voices from behind the stalls alerted her she wasn’t alone. She thought her name had been tossed about, and then an abrupt silence ensued after a violent hush sound. Great. Word had gotten round already. But in whose defense? She found it hard to believe teachers wouldn’t side with her, at least in private.
“Don’t hush on my account. I already heard my name mumbled between you. Might as well come out and tell me to my face what you think you know and how you feel about it.”
Two flushes later and a couple of second-year math teachers, whose classrooms were on the same floor as hers, revealed themselves, looking guilty as hell.
One of them, Susan Crowder, spoke immediately. “I’m sorry as heck, Violet. We didn’t hear much. Only that you looked awful coming out of Mr. Jenkins’ office. Someone said something about you being in trouble with parents? We were just saying that we found it hard to believe that you’d ever get in trouble, you’ve always been so awesome, but we also know our parents.” The girl rolled her eyes.
“Well, I appreciate your support. Really I do.” An obnoxiously loud bell rang. “I will get to the bottom of this one way or another. If you know who may have started the rumor mill, I would love to know.”
The silent one, Bethany Anderson, finally spoke. “One of the history teachers said she saw you walking out.”
“Which one?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know her name. You know, it’s only my second year here and I know no one except for who’s on my floor. I really hope everything turns out all right for you, Violet.”
“Thank you, Bethany. It will.” She offered them both a smile and walked out with them. Just another day of holding it in until the last bell.
Chapter 9
Bills had to be paid and she had to eat. By the end of the day, Violet sent an email to her principal, telling him her decision. Violet tossed the assignment, to the consternation and bewilderment of her students. Their response added to the mystery. If some parents had put up a fuss, why were all the kids complaining about stopping it? By all, she knew for a fact each and every one of her students were pissed off they couldn’t finish what they’d put hard work into. So, someone’s parents complained and didn’t tell them. Nice.