From the Wreckage

by Melissa Collins

  With her head on my chest and my fingers in her hair, we drift to sleep in a bubble of complete and utter contentment.

  Day one of a new job is never easy for anyone, I’m assuming. But today might just be the most nervous I’ve ever been in my life. Of course, everyone has assured me I’ll be fine—more than fine actually. But there’s something about walking into a room filled with teachers whose collective experience adds up to more than twice your age that’s overwhelmingly daunting.

  And these are the teachers who sign up to work in July. Who does that?

  Needless to say, when my new boss, Principal Gallagher, asked me to be a member of the curriculum writing team, I couldn’t say no. Yet now, as I pull into the parking lot, I’m wishing I could have come up with some kind of excuse.

  Yeah, yeah, I already know I need to put on my big girl panties and be confident, but holy crap am I intimidated. Looking to the two cars parked on each side of me—a black Mercedes and a grey B.M.W., I already feel way out of my league. My used Toyota Camry brings down the gross income of the parking lot by far more than I’d like to admit.

  I wave my new I.D. badge over the card reader at the entrance and breathe a sigh of relief when it actually works. Last week when I came up to fill out some more paperwork and take the hideous picture for the badge in my hand, the security guard told me the system was usually on the fritz. He laughed when he told me he let a teacher in who’d been stuck outside for over thirty minutes because the one secretary in the main office was on her lunch break.

  Draping the badge around my neck—on the school issued lanyard—I walk down the main hallway at the end of which is the library. Straightening my navy blue jacket, I take a deep breath before pushing the doors open.

  You can do this, Grace.

  The icy blast of the air conditioning is a welcome respite to the near broiling heat of the rest of the building. The main room of the library is huge¸ shelves of books lining every inch of the walls. There’s a computer station and a bank of laptops. And despite it being a library, it feels open and airy, not stuffy and archaic. Like the true nerd I am, I smile thinking of all the learning that must go on in here.

  Chatter from one of the side classrooms pulls my attention away from my dorky musings. The classroom is separated from the main room by large windows, allowing me to see inside before anyone catches sight of me. Stopping dead in my tracks, embarrassment washes over me. Even though they’re some of the most experienced teachers in the building, and they make more money than I can fathom, they’re all dressed far more casually than I am. From what I can see, everyone is wearing T-shirts and shorts. Sitting around a large table, they’re watching one of those silly cat videos on the large projector screen at the front of the room. Laughter bubbles in my chest watching a kitten fall off a table as it chases its tail.

  Looking down at my freshly pressed suit and briefcase in hand, I realize I’m about to be the laughing stock of this summer’s curriculum writing project. With a quick look at the clock, I realize I might have enough time to race home and change. I can simply claim I got lost and that’s why I’m late.

  Yep, that’s what I’m going to do.

  Turning away from the room, I somehow manage to trip over my own two feet as my heel gets caught in the carpet. My briefcase flies from my hands, crashing into a cart of books in need of re-shelving. Books tumble to the floor and catches the attention of my waiting colleagues.

  Sprawled out on the floor, I can’t do anything but laugh at my own clumsiness. Sitting up, I look down at my legs. My pantyhose are torn at the knees and blood drips down my shins.

  Stellar first impression.

  Gingerly, I brace myself on all fours, trying to stand as gracefully as possible. That’s when I see a pair of muscled legs standing before me. Looking up, he’s holding my briefcase and wearing a huge smile. “You okay?” he asks, stifling a laugh.

  Taking his out-stretched hand, I pull myself up and stand before him. “Fine, thank you,” I answer, trying to look as composed as possible.

  “Tim,” he introduces himself, handing me my briefcase. “And you must be Grace.” Laughing at my name, he looks me over. “Rather ironic, huh?” he jokes. “Falling on your ass like that with a name like Grace.”

  Losing himself to a silly fit of laughter, it’s easy not to be mad at him. He’s not much older than me, his face young and carefree. “My parents clearly didn’t think that one through, huh?” I laugh with him.

  “Clearly,” he agrees, running his hand through his light blond hair. “Well, Grace,” he emphasizes my name, “it’s a pleasure to meet you. June mentioned we’d be sharing a room this year,” he explains, walking us into the classroom.

  As I step in front of him, he puts his hand on my lower back ushering me into the room. An unsettled feeling brews in my gut as he introduces me to the group as his new roommate. I know he means well, and that he’s just trying to be friendly, but the combination of the casual friendliness in his voice and the ease with which he’s putting his hand on me, it’s throwing me off.

  The rest of the teachers introduce themselves and we share a collective laugh at my entrance. Tim pulls out a seat next to him for me to sit in. Seeing as it’s the only free spot, I take it and try to push back the feeling of unease. “Grace, this is Kathy, Lauren, Doug, and Mike.” Shaking hands with each of them, I thank them for allowing me to be a part of their team.

  “Nice to meet you, Grace.” Lauren smiles at me from across the table. “Are you okay?” she asks, tipping her head out to where I fell on my ass.

  “Yeah, I’ll live.” Laughing about it is the only way to make the embarrassment go away.

  “I’ve got an even better one for you,” Doug chimes in. “I was walking up the stairs, piles of papers in my hands and of course, I figured I could carry my coffee as well. I actually tripped up the stairs.”

  “Oh no,” I gasp, laughing.

  “Oh yes,” he continues. “Papers and coffee went everywhere. I had to lay the papers out on the windowsill so they could dry off. My room smelled like coffee for days after that.”

  “Well, at least you didn’t trip over your own shoelaces and fly face first into a couple making out,” Tim adds to the horror stories.

  “That’s . . . wow, that’s just awful.”

  “You’re telling me.” Tim laughs along with everyone else. “I was face-to-face with pretty much the worst threesome you could ever imagine.”

  After a few more horror stories, some their own, and some belonging to their fellow co-workers, we’re all laughed out. With the focus off my less-than-graceful entrance, I feel much more relaxed with this group of new people.

  Half an hour into the first task, I feel even more at ease. Mixing work with funny stories about the students and teachers of the building, I realize just how lucky I am to be a part of this group. They really do seem to be nice people. Even Tim, who I must admit is really easy on the eyes, has proven to be funny and smart and not at all creepy like I thought he’d turn out to be.

  As the hours move on, I’m in awe of the group’s collective intelligence. In complete contrast to their casual appearance, every teacher here is articulate and creative. My brain hurts by the end of the day. Their ideas and enthusiasm are almost too much to take in. Whatever apprehension I was feeling earlier is completely erased as they embrace and encourage my participation. By the end of the day, my mind is racing with a million different ideas for lessons in the upcoming school year. At the end of the session, we share some ideas about what we’ll work on tomorrow and I offer to bring in some muffins for breakfast.

  “I’ll walk you to your car, Grace,” Tim offers, holding the door open for me as I walk out of the library.

  “Okay,” I accept, suddenly nervous.

  “So what did you think of today?”

  “It was good. I learned a lot. How do you think it went?” Of course he agrees. It really was a good day. As we walk to the car, the conversation is filled with tal
k of who will use which side of the room and how we’ll divide the bulletin board.

  “Sounds good, Tim. And thanks again for helping me earlier.”

  “No problem.” He leans against the rear panel of my car. “It’s great having you aboard.”

  “Yeah, I’m excited. I just moved out here for this job so it’s nice to know it was worth it.”

  “From where?” he asks, genuinely interested.

  “I grew up in New Jersey, but went to college in Manhattan. I just moved out here a few weeks ago.”

  “Well then.” The tone of his voice sounds as if he’s just come to a monumental decision. “I’ll have to take you out. Show you the lay of the land. Help you get used to your new hometown.” With each word he moves closer to me, leaning into my personal space. His motives are not nearly as hidden as they should be.

  “Thanks, but really it’s okay.” After I open the door, I drop my briefcase inside. Deliberating for a second on how to say it, I felt like an idiot trying to tell him about David. In all my experience with men, which isn’t much, I was never good with being able to tell if a guy was interested in me. Maybe Tim is simply being nice and offering his help, but there’s something in his smile and his eyes suggesting that this is more than an offer of friendship. “Um, I,” I start lamely. Digging for my confidence, I say, “I have a boyfriend.”

  Oh, my God. I sound like a dope.

  “Oh, okay.” There’s dejection in his words and I have to say, I’m more than a little proud at being able to read the situation correctly. “Well, my offer still stands. I mean we will be working together for oh, I don’t know, like the next twenty or twenty-five years.” Recovering quickly, he laughs, smiling at me. “But seriously. I was just trying to be a friend.”

  “Thank you. Maybe I’ll take you up on that tour one day.” Sliding into my seat, I say goodbye through the window. “See you tomorrow.”

  “Bye.” He smiles at me as I pull away. Maybe it’s a little duller than the smiles he gave me the rest of the day, but there’s still a friendly air about him making me believe he is a decent guy.

  The first thing I do when I get home is change and clean up my knees, which are now a lovely shade of bluish purple. It’s still an adjustment living alone, but it’s one I’m really enjoying. Besides, on the stretches when David isn’t working, he spends most of his time here. As I toss my heels into the closet, I smile when they land next to David’s extra pair of running shoes. It makes me think back to this morning.

  “Why are you up?” I groaned, curling around him as he sat on the edge of the bed. Lacing up his sneakers, he chuckled at me and my drowsiness.

  “You’re kind of adorable when you’re tired.” Twisting around, he pulled me into his arms completely. “And believe me, I would love to stay here and waste the day away with your legs wrapped around my hips.” He arched a brow, smiling at me. “But I have work tonight and you have work in like an hour.”

  Sweetly, he pressed his lips to mine, completely ignoring my morning breath. “You have way too much energy after last night.” Stretching, I raised my arms above my head and the sheet fell away.

  “You’re a temptress, you know,” he said, trailing a finger down the center of my exposed breasts.

  “Who me?” I asked, feigning innocence.

  “Yes, you.” His strong hand, rough and calloused, cupped my breast, pulling my nipple into a stiff peak. “A beautiful goddess, who is making me very late for my morning run.” His last words were mumbled against my skin before he sucked my nipple into his mouth, the scratch of his two-day-old beard leaving red lines on my skin.

  The soft clunk of his sneakers preceded my cries of pleasure as his tongue worked an early morning orgasm from my body.

  As if he could sense I was thinking about him, my phone skittered across the table. A picture of me and David flashed across the screen, me kissing his cheek and him with a gigantic smile on his gorgeous face. “Hey, you,” I answer the call.

  “Hey, beautiful. So how was it?” he asks, excitement flowing through his words.

  I tell him about my stupendous entrance and how everyone else had their own horror stories to share. “Oh, Gracie.” He laughs into the line after making sure I’m okay.

  “Yeah, not my finest moment, but otherwise it was a really great day. I met my roommate.”

  “Is she nice?”

  “He is. His name is Tim. He actually helped me when I fell. You know the whole damsel in distress deal.” I laugh. Busying myself with pouring a glass of wine, I don’t even realize the silence permeating the line. It’s so quiet I actually have to pull the phone away from my ear to see that the call is still connected. “Are you still there?”

  “Yeah, I’m here.” His voice is curt and cold. “So tell me about Tim.”

  “Seriously, David?”

  “What?” he grouches. “Have you seen you? Is it so terrible I want to keep you all to myself?”

  Sipping down a mouthful of Pinot, I smile around the rim of the glass. “Don’t worry. I was wearing my I heart David Andrews T-shirt. You know the one that says ‘He’s a big strong scary fireman. Keep back 500 feet’ on the back,” I joke.

  “Oh, good,” he plays right along. “I knew you’d get use out of that one.”

  “You’re an ass.”

  “Yep, I sure am. But you know what?” I can picture his dark brown eyes shimmering with humor, his face pulling into a wide and gorgeous smile.

  “You’re my ass,” I answer him, loving that little inside joke.

  “Damn straight, sweetheart. But Tim aside,” his name comes from David’s mouth sounding more like a curse than anything else, “the day was good?”

  “It was perfect. I have a bunch of ideas to work on tonight and I’m really excited to be part of the team.”

  “That’s great, babe. I’m really proud of you.”

  “How about you? Did you get lots of studying in? Are you ready for Friday?” With his Lieutenant’s test looming, he’s been cramming like crazy. This means lots of time seeing David in his glasses and lots of time making out with him in his glasses.

  “I did. Even had some time to take a practice test today, too. I think I’m as ready as can be.”

  “Good, baby. I can’t wait to see you kick that test’s ass.”

  “Okay. I need to get in gear if I want to beat the traffic. I’m on until tomorrow night and back for another tour Wednesday through Thursday. I had to pull a mutual to have the right time off for the test,” he explains. His job is so demanding, there have been a few weeks when we’ve barely seen each other. It’s not easy, but he loves his job and I love him so it works.

  “Then I’ll see you Friday night for dinner. We’ll celebrate the test finally being over.” A devious smile splits my face thinking about how we’ll actually spend the time celebrating. “I’ll even cook for you.”

  “Sounds perfect, sweetheart. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  “Be safe. I lo–” Stopping myself before the last of those three words fall from my lips, I nearly drop my glass of wine to the table.

  “Grace.” My name sounds more like a question than a statement.

  Playing it off as if that didn’t just almost happen, I say, “Yeah, who do you think you’ve been talking to?”

  “Did you just start to say what I think you were going to say?”

  Shrugging, I laugh at myself realizing he can’t see me. I consider saying no, but there’s no point in lying. But before I can admit it, he interrupts me.

  “You know I feel the same way,” he admits, not actually saying the words.

  “You do?” I gasp into the line, more than shocked at his easy admission.

  “Of course I do, sweetheart.” I can hear the shyness in his words, but their meaning is in no way diminished by it. “But I won’t say them now. And I don’t want you to say them either.”

  “Oh,” I sigh, dejected.

  “When we say them, I want you to be in my arms, preferably naked. I w
ant to be able to brush that beautiful red hair of yours out of your eyes so I can get lost in their depths when I tell you exactly how I feel about you. And if you say them now, I won’t be able to taste your sinfully sweet lips against mine. I’m not very good at delaying gratification, so until I see you again, just know I can’t wait to say them to you.”

  Completely astounded by his confession, I smile into the line like a lovesick teenager. “I can’t wait either.”

  “Something bothering you?” Tim asks around a mouthful of turkey sandwich. It’s the last day of the curriculum writing project, and since Tim and I worked through lunch most days, we decided an hour out of the building on a Friday afternoon would do us some good. Tim has been talking about this deli all week, so today we figured we’d go there.

  Pulling my distracted stare away from the clock ticking on the wall, I shrug. “I’m fine. It’s just today is a big day.”

  “Oh, really?” Wiping away the crumbs from his mouth, he turns in his seat. “How so? What’s going on?”

  I’d like to say it’s because we’re the closest in age, or because we’ll be sharing a room that we’ve gotten along really well this past week. But the truth is that he’s a really nice guy and he’s been more than helpful. “It’s my boyfriend.”

  In a look that rivals the one Ross gave Rachel whenever she mentioned Mark’s name, Tim’s eyes widen, his attention sharpening. “Everything okay with you two? Is something going on?” Trying my best to keep my focus solely on work the entire week, I haven’t brought anything up about David and his test today.

  “Yes, we’re fine,” I snap—which is mostly unnecessary. It’s been a demanding week and not seeing David at all has only added to the stress mounting toward today.

  Holding up his hands in a mock defense, he says, “Okay. Okay. Just checking.” After taking a sip of his drink, he pushes on, “So then what is it?”