by Lucy Lambert
The glow from the screen softened the shadows and made a blurry oblong circle against my blouse. I knew that I shouldn’t read the message, knew that it always upset me.
But it was a compulsion.
I pulled up my text message log, thumbed down to get to Brady’s name and brought up the message history. His final message, the one I’d never had the courage to answer, glared at me from the screen.
I still love you, read the first message in its little blue bubble.
But we both know this won’t last forever, the second said.
My heart turned into a chunk of lead in my chest, growing heavier each time my eyes scanned the words.
After I’d received that message from him we’d met up at my little apartment and had a huge argument. That was the last time we’d spoken. It had been the middle of July.
Then the school year started and I tossed myself bodily into it.
What is wrong with me? I always asked myself. Where did I go wrong? I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth and clamped down on it until it hurt, until I could feel the steady thrum of my pulse.
It took the hair on the back of my neck prickling to realize that someone stood in front of my desk, watching me.
“…Miss Morgan?” It was Joe Powers. Joey to his buds. He was on the football team but struggled to maintain the C average he needed to stay on it. Lately he’d been coming to class a little early, looking for some extra help.
“Yes, Joe?” I said, locking my phone and pushing the screen down against my thigh as though Joe might see it. Waves of guilt kept crashing through me.
This is not me time. This is teaching time. Do your job! I told myself, trying to smile. I thumbed the lock button on my phone and slid it into my pocket.
It wasn't a good habit, using a phone as a teacher in a classroom. It set a precedent. It was a constant, uphill battle to curb phone use in classes. A battle rather like the tale of Sisyphus, doomed to push a boulder up a hill for all eternity, only for it to come crashing down on him again and again.
"I started my essay," Joe said, offering me a few sheets of typing while he glanced back at the door, "I was hoping that you could, maybe, you know... let me know if I'm doing it okay?"
I took the papers, glad for anything that might take my mind off that text, off Alexander Crossley and his tailored suit. Also just glad that this young man had finally started opening up.
"I'll have some notes for you tomorrow," I said, putting the sheets into my briefcase.
Then a couple of Joe's friends sauntered into the room and his demeanor changed. The smile dropped from his face. He went over to them and they started laughing while they pulled their desks into a little circle.
Joe shot a look back at me as though I might betray him to his friends. Might tell them that he did actually care about school. I began getting my notes out for the day's class, pulling my old Oxford edition of King Lear out.
And then I glanced at the clock, for once wishing for the day to just end. Usually I wanted it to go on forever. Anything to keep me from going back to the apartment I once shared with Brady. The apartment I couldn't afford to move out of yet, and was forced to stay in, wallowing in the memories.
But today I had to meet with Alexander Crossley after school to discuss things, and how I wished for that to be over with.
The bell rang. I stood. "Okay everyone, please get out your texts and turn to Act 2, Scene 1."
Someone peered into the room through the window in the door. I caught them from the corner of my eye. Mr. Stockwell, I figured, checking in.
Chapter 5
ALEXANDER
Charlie looked just as good in profile as from face-on. I liked the way her nose curved. The way she licked her lips when she caught her breath. And once she brushed her hair back over her ear, missing a few strands and forgetting about them. I wanted to go in right away and fix that for her.
And had that been an iPhone she'd been cradling so secretly between her knees? What could be so important on it?
Boyfriend? was my first thought. But then I dismissed it. She was a consummate teacher. No time for boys or men. If she was in a relationship then I would get my name legally changed to Ronald McDonald. Trust me on this.
But then I noticed the kids. Teenagers. I sneered. Always getting into trouble. Always thought they knew everything. Always thought themselves invulnerable.
And, up to this point, I thought that they always hated school. Especially these inner city kids with no prospects.
They all listened to Charlie, though. She captivated them. And not just because she was lovely to look at, I knew.
I frowned, leaning closer to the window. They were all listening. When she asked a question, a good scattering of hands rose throughout the entire room.
I'd seen seasoned executives and board members less engaged at meetings.
Then I turned back to Charlie. It was like watching a silent film, but I didn't mind. I liked the way her lips moved to form words. I loved the way she smiled at the students when they answered her questions.
I got so involved in watching that I didn't notice Mr. Stockwell creep up behind me. He tapped me on the shoulder.
I turned on him and his eyes widened. "Muh... Mr. Crossley. I wanted to check in with you," he said.
I considered him. A hatchet-faced man. Haggard. Younger than he looked. Probably much younger. Probably only owned two suits and never had the time to take them to the cleaners.
And he was nervous. So I made a quick, slashing check sign in the air and grinned at him. "All done," I said.
He tried to smile back at me but his lips didn't cooperate. Then he tried to laugh at my little joke and the sound died as a croak in his throat.
"Of course," he said, then he looked over my shoulder into the classroom. Some of his nervousness left him, transmuted into irritation. "Is Miss Morgan not allowing you into her classroom?"
"No. She asked that I meet her after to discuss our timetable for the next couple weeks."
"I am sorry, Mr. Crossley. I'll pull her out right now and we'll get this sorted. I can't believe that she would do this to you..." Stockwell said. He made to get to the door.
I stopped him. I stepped right in front of him, blocking the way. He frowned again, wondering why I might have done that. "Mr. Crossley?" he said.
I wondered as well. By all rights this was a gross waste of my time. I should tell Stockwell to stand back and let me handle this. Storm into the classroom and take it over like I took over so many board meetings, by main strength and force of personality.
I didn't get out of his way. "That's all right, actually," I said. I glanced back over my shoulder into the room, catching another glimpse of Charlie while she scribbled something on the chalkboard. The side of her right hand was already dusted white with chalk.
Good, she hasn't heard us, I thought, followed quickly by wondering why I thought that important.
I had only met Charlie briefly, but I knew if I let Stockwell go through with this should would consider it a huge breach of trust. Probably a breach so big I could never fix it.
"Mr. Crossley, sir, if she is being uncooperative then I can have someone else be your main point of contact for the school. Maybe someone from the PTA, or I imagine even someone from the department of education itself would be happy to come and help you..."
I waved my hand in dismissal. "Totally unnecessary."
Stockwell opened his mouth as though to disagree, thought better of it, and started to leave.
"And Stockwell?" I said.
The principal turned around to face me again, like I was a sergeant calling a delinquent private to attention. I can't say that I didn't enjoy it.
A janitor wheeled his yellow bucket with the wet floor warning on it around the corner. One of the wheels chirped against the floor. He stopped when he saw us.
"Yes, Mr. Crossley?"
"You won't discipline her over this. In fact, you're not even going to mention it. Nod if
you understand me," I said.
He nodded. Then he waited for me to wave him off before he turned around and walked away, his legs stiff so that he pretty much goose-stepped around the corner and the confused janitor watching the whole thing.
I looked back into the classroom, wondering why I just did that. I could have been rid of her just like that. Had someone who'd kiss my ass until they'd chapped their lips by the end of these two weeks.
Charlie leaned back against her desk while reading from what looked like an old copy of King Lear.
I'd come into this school wanting this stupid PR stunt over with. I wanted to get back to my office, back to my company. Back to my secretary with her great ass and dirty mind and zero obligations.
I leaned closer to the narrow vertical window for a better look at that smile that Charlie beamed over the whole classroom. That smile sent my heart thumping in my chest, made me want to reach up and tug the knot of my tie loose and undo the top button of my shirt.
Now I wanted her.
Stockwell had been right about one thing, though. And that was that I was supposed to be in the classroom with her. I noticed that the students had started getting antsy and I checked my watch.
10 minutes to the final bell. Even she couldn't keep much control over them with the school day almost out.
Perfect, I thought.
Chapter 6
CHARLIE
I kept glancing at the clock. My heart started racing when I saw how close we were to done for the day.
The back of my blouse began sticking to the small of my back.
The kids could sense something, too. I couldn't keep all the whispers in check. I saw a few bright cell screens here or there but didn't immediately demand they put them away.
At least I have a few more minutes before I have to see Mr. Crossley again, I thought. But then my mind went off the beaten path. Was it really so bad to see him? Because he was pretty easy on the eyes. And he had that cleft chin like those handsome silver screen movie stars from the old black and white days.
I pulled my mind back just in time to hear the latch on the door.
"Good afternoon, students," Crossley said, striding in.
And I had to give it to the guy, he had a presence that even I couldn't ignore. Something about the way he carried himself, and the way his voice resonated deep in my chest, just instantly gave him the entire room's undivided attention.
He wore a small smile on his face that said he knew about this little superpower of his.
And the thing was, he almost cost me control of my classroom. I was the authority in here. If someone could just walk in and start talking without any word from me, that spelled trouble.
I could already see some of the students, especially Joe and his friends, casting curious glances between us.
And Crossley knew about this, too. I could tell by the way he shot his eyes at me quickly. Oh, how I wanted to wipe that roguishly crooked smile off his face.
"Everyone," I said, "I'm sure you all remember how last month our school won the privilege of being one of the first hosts of the CEO-in-Residence program."
My little dig didn't have its intended effect on him. If anything, I was beginning to think my clearly unimpressed attitude towards him amused Crossley more than anything. The corners of his mouth tugged, widening that smile.
That just got my hackles up. So I stood. First mistake. The back of my chair banged against the chalkboard, spilling white sticks of chalk which promptly shattered on the classroom floor.
I also knew that the back of my blouse now had a fine white dusting on it. Blood started rushing to my cheeks. My heart did its best impression of a baseball card stuck in the spokes of a bike wheel.
Second mistake, I let Crossley talk over me.
"This is Mr. Alexander..." I started.
"...Crossley," he finished, looking at me again. In spite of everything, I noticed they were a cold blue color. Almost gray. Like an iced-over river on a cloudy day.
"And I'm going to be with all of Miss Morgan's classes for the next two weeks. Now, to show you that I'm on your side..." he pulled his cuff back and looked at the face of his watch. "I'm going to let you all go five minutes before the bell. So long as Miss Morgan says that's all right, of course."
Then he fixed those gray eyes on me.
An awareness rippled through me, then, caught me off guard. An awareness that he as looking at me as more than just the disagreeable teacher he'd been saddled with.
No, I got the distinct impression that he was looking at me as a woman. My cheeks heated again, but not just from anger this time.
I looked from Crossley to my class. I'd already lost them, I could tell. They shifted in their seats, the little rubber feet on their desks squeaking against the shoe-marked linoleum. They whispered to themselves.
"Of course not. Mr. Crossley's time is so valuable that we wouldn't want to waste any of it," I said, crossing my arms. Suddenly I couldn't remember if I'd done up the top button on my blouse, but I couldn't afford to check, not with his eyes on me.
With that, the students all packed up and left. It was amazing how long it took them to get settled every day, and how quickly they could go.
Soon only Crossley and I stood there. I wanted to go, too. Wanted it bad. But I couldn't. If I went first he'd see all that chalk dust all over my back, and I didn't want to give him any more reason to be amused with me than he already possessed.
"You shouldn't have done that," I said. I crossed my arms tight enough that my ribs creaked a little.
Crossley came over and sat on the edge of my desk, looking back over his shoulder at me. This close to the end of the day, his jaw showed a dusting of dark stubble. It added to his rakish appearance.
"Let's get something straight here, I don't want to be here as much as you don't want me here. But I've got a PR department and a board of directors pretty much breathing down my neck, so let's play nice for a couple weeks."
I shook my head, "I'm so glad that you're so interested in the lives of the students at this school."
He looked around the classroom, his shoulders rising and falling in a quiet sigh. "I went to places not that much different from this. I'm going to tell you something, only one kid out of a thousand here has any shot at all. And that's being generous."
And then I couldn't stand him anymore. He could talk about anything he wanted, but if he wanted to bad mouth my students that was the end. I pushed out from around my desk, not caring if he saw the chalk all over my back anymore.
"How very kind of you to say. You know what would have been better for everyone? You writing a check and getting the hell out. Have your picture taken and leave." Oh God, there's going to be photographers and reporters in here soon enough, I remembered, recalling more of that stupid CEO program now.
It was sort of like recalling a nightmare a few hours after waking up and getting those cold tremors in your back and stomach.
He stood as well, pulling the creases from his jacket with a quick tug. He was tall. Tall enough that standing this close to him I had to crane my head back.
A thought rose unbidden in my mind as I took in the stubble on his jaw again. I wondered what it might feel like if I ran my fingers over his cheeks.
"It's not that easy, so why are you trying to make it harder on both of us?" he said. "We're alone you know. That principal isn't snooping around. Go on, tell me the truth."
"It's because I don't like your company, I don't like this program, and I hate to go off first impressions after meeting someone but I don't like you, either. In any capacity."
"You don't sugarcoat things," he said, "I like that. And as far as first impressions go, I like you, Charlie. In every capacity that matters."
I blanched, all the blood going out of my cheeks. It all went and made a hot ball just below my chest. That awareness rippled inside me again.
I was glad my blouse had full sleeves. They hid the gooseflesh that wrinkled up and down my arms.
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And I was flustered. I kept trying to say something, but nothing came out.
"Actually, I have a theory about you that I'd like to you prove," he said.
I regained some composure. What game is he playing at? Maybe if I just answer whatever question he has he'll put this little conversation to bed. I didn't like being alone in the room with him. It was too fraught with possibility.
"And what is that?" I asked.
"You're single. There's no man in your life. No one to fill that gap."
I'd been trying to look away from him. Instead staring at the back wall, which had a whimsical poster of Shakespeare wearing a chef's hat.
Did I imagine that emphasis he put on the last part? He looked at me in that way that all handsome men who were confident in their handsomeness looked at a woman and I didn't think that I imagined it.
But then I thought of something that made me smile.
That surprised him. A frown touched his brow for just an instant and then disappeared. "I'm right. Tell me I'm right," he said.
I shook my head, feeling my ponytail bat against the sides of my neck, just below my jaw.
"There is a man in my life, actually. The only man in my life that I need."
He snorted as though he didn't believe me. "I see. What's his name?"
"Rufus," I replied without missing a beat. I liked this feeling, this sensation of having one-upped him.
Our eyes met then and something sparked. Like a crackle of static in the dry air of a drought. I pulled my eyes away quickly. Too quickly, probably.
"Rufus," he said, tasting the word, "Not a name you hear much anymore. Rare."
"He's a rare guy," I said, my back stiffening. I could still feel that electricity in the air between us, that potential, just waiting for me to glance back and complete the circuit again.
I need to get out of here, I knew. I stared at the door. Never had I experienced the truth of that phrase: so close yet so far as at that moment.
"So, how about that lunch? Or perhaps dinner. I think something nicer than the cafeteria mystery meat is in order."