“Clearly you’re well read,” I say. “Your last school couldn’t have been that bad.”
“Oh, I didn’t read ‘A Rose for Emily’ at my last school,” she says, strumming her fingers over her notebook. “I read it for fun.”
“I see.” It’s hard to picture this teenager with her tight jeans and potty-mouth reading Faulkner for pleasure in between moves. “Go ahead and join the group in the back.”
She stands and picks a seat next to Ben. She shakes his hand. She nods at Adam and Darcy, her other group members, like she already knows them. Within minutes, she blends in. But I still find her peculiar.
Three
Now
I usually get home by four o’clock. Danny’s clinic stays open later, so it’s closer to six before he arrives. By the time he walks in the door, dinner is nearly ready. Tonight’s menu consists of steak and asparagus covered in a Parmesan cream sauce. I enjoy cooking and get extra practice during the summer months.
He walks in the kitchen, takes off his coat and hugs me from behind while I tend the stove.
“Smells great,” he says, digging his chin into my neck. I pull back, and stare at him. Even though he’s worked over twelve hours, his gray eyes are still kind. His dark hair is combed neatly to the side, and you’d never guess by looking at his starched clothes he’s spent the day poking and prodding all types of sick people. We kiss.
“Thank you,” I say, turning my attention back to the stove. “How was work?”
“Busy. People are starting to travel and picking up all sorts of nasty viruses.” He sits on a barstool and slumps forward, the first sign that he’s tired.
“Yuck.” Between his job and my constant exposure to germy teenagers, it’s a wonder we’re not forever sick. Danny is a general practitioner at a family practice. Womb to tomb, they say. He sees patients of all ages for a variety of causes. Occasionally, he rotates on-call hours at the local hospital.
Everyone looks at Danny and thinks he’s a catch because he’s a doctor, and he is. But that’s not what I love about him. Danny and I grew up together. He knew me before, and he knew me after, and he knew Brian in between. We reconnected when Danny was in medical school. There was an immediate comfort in knowing I wouldn’t have to explain what happened. He already knew.
We discuss our individual days over dinner. Nothing heavy, just enjoyable conversation. We share a bottle of wine, which leads to him carrying me upstairs. We slowly and predictably ease into sex. He strips my blouse and slacks, lays me gently on the bed. He glides into me, methodically pushing into my core. When he finishes, we kiss a bit more, until the wine in our blood makes us giggle.
“Do you know what weeks you’ll have off for summer?” I ask, mentally Pinteresting all the activities I’d like to accomplish.
“I should by the end of the month,” he says, rubbing his finger across my thigh.
“I want to go somewhere big this year,” I tell him, hoping he’ll agree.
“Europe, big?”
“Why not?”
We toured Italy and France for our honeymoon. Since then, we’ve mostly stayed stateside, making a commitment to put more money toward his medical school loans than stamping our passports.
“Well, you are receiving tenure this year. This can be our way to celebrate. Start planning,” he says. “When I have dates, we’ll book.”
Danny knows me so well. Strategizing an itinerary is half the fun of traveling. He also knows I need to keep moving. I need to keep experiencing. I need to replace the bad memories with good ones.
“Knock, knock,” I say, leaning my head inside the doorway of the guidance wing.
Pam spins around in her chair and flaps her hand for me to come inside.
“Hey, Dell,” she says. Her navy suit is professional, but she’s already kicked off her shoes for the day. Her bare feet dangle above the ground. “I’ve not seen you since before break.”
“Is this a good time?” I ask.
She smiles, her fuchsia lips popping in contrast to her dark skin. Her braids are neatly pinned to the top of her head. “Fourth block is always a good time.”
I love having fourth block planning. I’m able to teach my classes with limited interruption. By 2 p.m., I’m done for the day. I use that time to grade papers so by the time I exit the school building, I don’t have to think about this place.
“I do love having afternoon planning. It would be nice to keep it in the fall,” I say, smiling. Pam has many tasks at school, and one of them includes creating the schedule.
“I’ll see what I can do,” she says, twirling a pen in her hand. “But I’m sure that’s not why you stopped by.”
“No,” I say, filling one of the empty seats that line the far wall in her office. “I wanted to ask you about a new student.”
“Zoey Peterson?”
“Have others talked to you about her?”
“No, but she’s the only enrollee we’ve had since February. Is she giving you trouble?”
“Not really. She’s only been in class two days.” There’s no use in revisiting the exchange I had with Zoey yesterday. It was annoying, but not concerning. Today, she arrived on time and spent most of the period talking with her classmates. I was surprised by how quickly she seemed to be making friends. “I was just wondering what her story is given how late in the year it is for a transfer.”
“Gotcha.” She spins to her right and starts clacking her computer keyboard. “Let’s see. Her last school was in Virginia. She’d been there since the beginning of her junior year.”
“Where was she before that?” I ask, surprised.
“She was enrolled at a Kentucky high school as a freshman and sophomore. Looking
