The Tattered Gloves

by J. L. Berg

  She laughed as we entered, grabbing a small handbasket. “Just a few things. I thought I’d take the rest of the leftovers and make a soup or maybe a potpie. I haven’t decided.”

  Despite the vow I’d made to never eat again after consuming copious amounts of food yesterday, my stomach instantly growled at the thought of homemade potpies.

  Traitor.

  “Why don’t you go look at the movies, and I’ll meet you back at the register in a few?” she suggested, already focused on several items in front of her.

  I agreed, liking the idea of venturing out on my own much better than standing around, waiting for Addy to decide between three different brands of chicken stock.

  The town’s one and only Redbox was just outside the door, so I immediately headed there. It didn’t take me long to look through what was available and pick out something Addy might like. I’d learned rather early on, she preferred comedies to most everything else.

  And that was totally fine with me.

  Using the credit card she’d given me, I grabbed two selections and headed back into the grocery store toward the checkout counter, but she wasn’t there.

  Knowing how long she could sometimes take with making decisions, I set out to find her. The odds were in my favor, seeing as it wasn’t a large store, and it thankfully took only moments to locate her.

  Of course, the sound of her laughter could probably be heard miles away.

  Approaching tentatively until I knew whom she was speaking with, I stayed back, waiting until she noticed me.

  “Oh, Willow! I’m so sorry! I was supposed to meet you up front. I got caught up, speaking with Mrs. Landers about your wonderful History project.”

  The familiar face turned to greet me, and I smiled.

  It was always weird to see teachers outside of school. Mrs. Landers, an older woman, probably in her late sixties, was dressed down in knit pants and a matching top. Her hair was styled much more casually than I’d ever seen, and the dark lipstick she usually wore to class was gone.

  It was like seeing a lion in the zoo. You just knew it didn’t naturally belong there, yet you couldn’t stop staring.

  “Hi, Mrs. Landers,” I finally said, fidgeting with the DVDs in my hands.

  “Hello, Willow. So good to see you. Did you two have a pleasant Thanksgiving?” she asked politely.

  “Yes, we did, thank you,” Addy replied. “And you?”

  “Oh, it was nice. Quiet, but nice all the same.”

  There was a sadness to her words, as if the word nice really didn’t mean nice at all.

  Addy must have noticed it, too, because there was a slight pause before she replied, “Good, that’s good. Say, do you have any plans tonight?” she asked, causing both of us to look up at her in shock.

  “Um, well… no, I guess not,” Mrs. Landers replied.

  “Great! Well, Willow and I were just picking up a few things to make a big homemade pot pie, and we’d love to have you over, if you’d like to join us? Maybe you could stay for a movie as well?”

  Mrs. Landers looked over at me, clearly asking for permission.

  Is it strange to have your teacher over for dinner?

  Did I care?

  Seeing the loneliness in her gaze, I realized… no, I really didn’t care. I gave her an encouraging smile, basically green-lighting her to accept.

  “That sounds delightful,” she replied, her mood already lifting, as the tone in her voice improved.

  Addy and she discussed time and other details. Mrs. Landers insisted on bringing something, and they settled on rolls or an appetizer. I couldn’t remember. My mind was still focused on the fact that my teacher was coming to our house to hang out.

  Can this day get any weirder?

  “Is it okay that I did this?” Addy asked as we walked through the front door, both carrying grocery bags. “She looked so sad and lonely. Her husband died just over a year ago.”

  “Yeah, it’s fine,” I answered before adding, “What are we going to talk about?”

  “She’s not an alien, Willow,” she replied.

  “I know,” I answered although I wasn’t sure I agreed.

  I followed her into the kitchen, intent on helping her with dinner. It was something I’d sort of fallen into. First, it had been a way to earn my keep, I guessed. If I couldn’t pay for things, I could at least help prepare the food and keep things tidy.

  But, now, it was actually something I looked forward to. It was a little tricky — cutting vegetables with yarn-covered fingers — but I’d learned to manage. At least, if things went upside down again and I found myself back in that cold apartment, I’d know how to cook for myself.

  It was something I tried not to think about.

  The possibility of going back.

  But, sometimes, being here felt too good to be true, and I knew what they said about things that were too good to be true.

  They usually were.

  Mrs. Landers — or Trudy, as my aunt called her — arrived right on time. This didn’t surprise me in the least. Most teachers were sticklers for punctuality — with a few notable exceptions.

  Although still wearing the same knit pants, she’d changed into a seasonable sweater and done her makeup. She looked more like the woman who greeted me in History class every day and less like the grocery-shopping stranger we’d run into this afternoon.

  And, now, she was standing in our living room.

  Crazy.

  “Willow, why don’t you get Trudy a soda or a glass of water?” Addy suggested, making me realize I was standing in the living room, awkwardly staring at my teacher.

  “Sure,” I replied, jumping into action.

  Mrs. Landers requested a cup of coffee instead, and thankfully, Addy had had the foresight to brew a pot. I wasn’t much for the stuff, so I poured a medium-size cup and pulled out the half-and-half Addy used as well as several varieties of sugar packets, including the gross fake kinds Addy liked.

  I brought them out into the living room and set everything down on the coffee table in front of Mrs. Landers, taking a place next to Addy on the couch.

  “Thank you, dear,” she said sweetly.

  “In the store, Trudy was telling me how well you had done on your project — both of you actually,” Addy said, a hint of pride in her voice.

  It made me blush.

  “Oh?” I said, curious as to what she meant by both of us.

  “Yes, I really enjoyed the sections you wrote about Sam’s early family and the settlement of the town. I know I’ve heard it before, but reading it from your perspective and his, it was really quite fascinating.”

  I gave a half-smile, remembering our conversation at the bookstore and how funny I’d thought it was that he was one of twelve Sams in his family.

  He’d offered to get me information on why the town was named Sugar Tree, and he’d done just that. But reading it in an email just hadn’t been the same.

  None of it was the same.

  “He had a lot of wonderful things to say about you as well,” she said, instantly grabbing my attention.

  I opened my mouth to respond, but what could I say to something like that?

  “It’s examples like the two of you that made me decide to change the project this year. Bringing students together, making connections — that’s what I hoped they’d gain from the work. Yes, I wanted you to learn about your families and gather insight about others, but the relationships you make now are so important. My hope is that a lot of lifelong friendships will blossom out of this little exercise.” She smiled before adding with a wink, “And perhaps a few marriages.”

  I gulped as both adults laughed at my obvious unease.

  “That’s doubtful,” I replied, rising from my spot on the couch to flee to the kitchen. I thought I’d had enough parent-teacher bonding for now.

  “She might not believe me now, but she didn’t read what he had written,” I heard Mrs. Landers whisper softly enough that she must have thought I couldn’
t hear her.

  It froze me in my tracks.

  Just when I’d finally done a decent job of convincing myself that Sam wasn’t worth my time, now, I was stuck here, wondering, What in the world did he say?

  THE HALLS WERE louder than usual when we returned to school the following Monday. I watched as friends hugged like they hadn’t seen each other for years even though it had only been a few days.

  I wanted to roll my eyes, but honestly, I kind of missed Allison, too.

  She’d spent the four-day break in the mountains with her family — something they often did in November. When she’d returned home last night, she’d called me briefly, tired and happy, but I was eager to hear all about her trip.

  After all, I’d never been to the mountains.

  “It was fantastic,” she said when I finally tracked her down. “We stayed at this old rustic cabin in the middle of nowhere. The views from the deck were insane. I freaked out a little at first when I realized there was no cell reception. Like, what if someone needed to contact us?” she said, making me laugh over her cell-phone dilemma. “But it was actually nice. I mean, I wouldn’t want to shut my phone off forever, you know, but a few days away was cool. Anyway, how was yours?”

  “It was good. Just Addy and me. She made enough food for the entire town though,” I said, making Allison smile.

  “My mom does that, too.”

  Her comment made me freeze.

  For all my life, the word mother had a much different meaning to me than it did to most. Mothers were supposed to be caring, gentle, and giving.

  My mother was none of those things.

  But Addy was.

  “Yeah, it was great,” I finally answered.

  For the first time, I realized that word that had haunted me for years, making me question what I’d done to deserve someone like my mother… well, it didn’t anger me anymore.

  Because I had an Addy.

  And that was so much better.

  WHEN SIXTH PERIOD finally rolled around, I felt like I had been at school for days. The fresh glow and renewed energy we’d all returned with after some much-needed time off was gone.

  Gone and dead.

  And, now, it was just back to the same old classes.

  But at least I had one thing to look forward to. Our graded projects were being returned to us today. I wasn’t nearly as nervous as everyone else, having already heard from Mrs. Landers directly that I’d done well.

  But how well was an entirely different question.

  Also, the idea that Sam had written about me still lingered in my mind.

  I’d thought about mentioning it to Allison, but I knew what she’d say. She’d make a big deal out of it, and soon, there would be texts and conversations. Ultimately, I’d only discover that he’d actually written one sentence about me, and the lonely old lady had just been making friendly conversation because we’d invited her over for dinner.

  So, even though I still wanted to know if he had really said what she’d hinted at before dinner the other night, I wasn’t going to risk it.

  Sam and I had enough tension between us. Any more, and things were liable to explode.

  “All right, everyone. Let’s quiet down,” Mrs. Landers said, her loud voice somehow carrying over everyone else. “I know it’s been a long day — for me, too — and everyone is eager to get to last period and call it a day, but I have some things to go over first.”

  A few groans made their way around the classroom.

  “First of all, I want to say I’m really quite pleased with how everyone did on this project. It was no easy task I gave, and for the most part, the majority of you rose to the challenge.”

  Looking around from my seat toward the back, I could already spot a few nervous faces from the ones who already knew they were screwed.

  “But, as I’ve said before, this is more than a grade, and I hope you take what you’ve learned — about each other and yourselves — and hold it close to your heart. Cherish your memories — the good, the bad, and everything in between — because, someday, you’ll be asked to tell your own history, a story of your life… and you’ll want to make it a good one.”

  Her words tossed around in my head as Mrs. Landers dived into her lecture, promising to give back our reports at the end of class.

  Good, bad, and everything in between?

  I didn’t want to remember everything. I only wanted to remember my life starting when I’d first arrived in Sugar Tree.

  Everything else wasn’t worth remembering.

  She wasn’t worth remembering.

  I’d found a new life, a new home… and finally, someone who cared for me.

  Nothing else mattered, did it?

  I was still deep in thought as we all waited in line just before the bell rang to pick up our graded papers. I didn’t notice him staring until we were near the front.

  “How was your break?” Sam asked, his deep green eyes giving me a startle.

  “Fine. And yours?” I asked, trying not to fiddle with the straps on my backpack.

  “Decent, I guess. My sister has been trying to teach herself how to cook, so she can move out and be a grown-up or whatever, so our turkey was a little burned, and everything else was cold. But it was food, so can’t complain.”

  I wanted to tell him that complaining was actually what he’d just done, but he was talking to me.

  Actual words.

  So, I just nodded and tried not to say anything stupid.

  “My aunt is teaching me; it’s not easy. Cooking, I mean,” I clarified.

  “I grew up with a single father who hated the stove, so I’m pretty impressed with anything that’s not frozen or microwaved.” He shrugged.

  “Me, too,” I admitted.

  His eyes held mine for the briefest moment before my knees hit the front of Mrs. Landers’s desk. Caught off guard, I turned and saw her smiling at us.

  “Glad to see both of you. Your papers were excellent,” she said, keeping it brief.

  From the look on Sam’s face, he was decently pleased with himself. Looking down, I found myself grinning when a solid A in bright red was written across my paper.

  “Oh, and, Willow?” Mrs. Landers said as I stepped to the side to allow everyone else through.

  “Yes?”

  “Can you return this to your aunt and thank her for the leftovers? It was very thoughtful of her to send me home with food the other night,” she said, holding out a clean Tupperware container toward me.

  I looked around, noticing Sam’s curious eyes move between us.

  “Um, sure,” I answered quietly, quickly taking the container.

  The bell thankfully chose that moment to ring, disrupting the awkward silence that had fallen between Sam and me. I took it as a cue to gracefully exit and move on to my last class.

  But, of course, that was never how things worked in my favor.

  “Hanging out with teachers, huh?” a snarky female voice said to my back.

  I turned around to see Katie, the girl Allison had described as the meanest girl on the planet, carrying a smug look on her face, standing in between two of her friends. Everything about her was over the top. From the overly complicated outfit she wore to the dozen accessories, including a gold necklace around her neck that said Screw U.

  “She just came over to my house to spend some time with my aunt,” I said, hating that I had to defend myself to someone like her.

  “No need to explain yourself, Willow. We all knew you were a freak anyway.” She grinned, making a point to glance down at my gloves.

  I’d never been overly concerned with what people thought of them. I knew they were weird; an added bonus to wearing them. It kept people at a distance and made them think twice before approaching me.

  But, in that moment, I wanted to rip them off and run away.

  In that moment, I wanted to put her in her place and tell her to go to hell.

  But I didn’t.

  I simply stood there, hold
ing back tears, until I had the courage to turn and flee.

  But that same brick wall stood in my way, and this time, it held on.

  “Back off, Katie,” Sam warned, his fingers barely brushing my shoulders.

  “What’s this now? The knightly Sam sticking up for the school freak?”

  “I mean it, Katie. No one needs your bullshit right now.”

  She brushed him off, laughing, as she walked away.

  Yet he was still touching me… still invading my space.

  And so I did what I’d sought out to do in the first place, before the wall and the hands on my shoulders.

  I fled.

  Without saying a word.

  IF THERE WAS ever a day I wished I didn’t have a conscience, it would be today.

  Then, I could brush off my responsibilities and ditch work after school, avoiding Sam and the conversation that was sure to follow.

  I’d walked away from him after he stood up for me in front of the whole school.

  Okay, it wasn’t the whole school, but when you did something like that, everyone was bound to find out. And, if there was one thing Sugar Tree High was good at, it was spreading gossip fast.

  By now, everyone knew, and it was just a matter of time before people began speculating on what Sam’s confrontation with Katie could mean.

  What did it mean?

  Honestly, I didn’t even want to know because as I walked into the bookstore — on time, I might add — my mind was still reliving that single moment when his hands had found their way to my shoulders.

  When he’d held me in place.

  It was the first time I’d ever felt fear in his presence.

  It was the first time I’d been reminded he was a man, just like the rest of them.

  Just like—

  “What the hell was that all about?” Sam’s concerned voice pierced through the silence, bolting me back into reality.

  I nearly jumped as I looked up, finding him behind the counter, while I entered through the front entrance.

  His voice had shocked me, but he was still Sam.

  Still just Sam.

  Am I really scared?

  “What are you talking about?” I asked, purposely not making eye contact, as I tried to figure out my warring feelings.