Seeking her out over Gavin would’ve saved me a shitload of suffering, and beer money.
“I’ve been sending her gifts.” I pitch a thumb over my shoulder.
Sondra quirks a brow. “And how’s that working for you?”
“Piss-poor at best.”
“What you truly need to offer is already in reach and what she wants most. Audria might be willing to give up her entire life in the city. The least you can do is give her a reason,” she reminds. “Fight for her. Show her that you mean it.”
Perhaps I’ve found another ally in this gruesome battle. “You’re a good friend, Sondra. No wonder Audria has fallen for Bam.”
Her cackle ends on a snort, plumes of steam rushing from her nose. “Feel free to take all the credit for that, Reeve. I know you want to.”
I burrow into the popped collar of my coat. “Nah, it’s a team effort.”
“I’ll tell her you were here, okay? I’m not sure it’ll do much.” She pats my arm.
“Any reinforcements are greatly appreciated. I’m striking out on my own.” That truth is still a sour pill to choke down, even with this newfound boost.
“You’re a good guy, Reeve.”
“Let’s hope you’re not the only one who thinks so. Thanks for listening to me ramble.”
“It wasn’t such a chore. I guarantee Audria is crazy about you.”
“More like crazy for getting involved with me.”
Sondra shakes her head with another laugh. “No, doofus. I meant what I said. Quit being a downer. I haven’t known her long, but she speaks from the heart. Hers only talks about you. That’s something to cherish.”
And something I will never take for granted again.
I stand in front of the Promethean board, watching my students finish their snowman projects. They’ve been diligently cutting and gluing for the last thirty minutes without pause. Sometimes all it takes is cotton balls, construction paper, and glitter to entertain them. Will I be able to recreate a similar flow next week? There’s only one way to find out—not that I have other options.
“All right, class. While you’re putting those finishing touches on Frosty, I have an important announcement before you leave for the weekend.” I wait until they give me their attention, or at least to the standard for a room full of second graders. “This is my final day as your teacher. Mrs. Johnson will be returning on Monday.”
A chorus of disappointed groans echoes toward me. The sound, although sad, spreads a blanket of cozy warmth over me. Several wide-eyed stares seek mine, as if misunderstanding. This news isn’t a secret by any stretch of the imagination. Considering that they’re constantly distracted at their age, I’ve repeated this speech at least once per day this week.
My smile trembles at the corners while I prepare to deliver a farewell worthy of these gracious children. They made my maiden dive into teaching sleek and smooth without so much as a splash. “I’ll still be in the building, covering for Mrs. Chasid. That means we’ll pass each other in the hallways.”
“But that’s fifth grade,” Danny whines.
“It is,” I confirm.
“Can Mrs. Johnson teach that class instead? Then you can stay with us.” Polly’s suggestion accompanies a wide grin.
A long sigh hunches my shoulders. “That’s not how the schedule is set, unfortunately. You’re going to love Mrs. Johnson and forget all about me.”
“No way, Miss Griffin. We love you too much,” Tallie says.
I glance at the colorful displays of artwork and assignments adorning the wall. “I’ll miss you all very much, and I promise to visit often.”
Gabby steps forward, carrying a gift bag that she got from who knows where. She thrusts it directly into my arms. “This is for you, from all of us.”
“You guys got me a present? No way.” Stinging heat attacks my eyes. I’m a goner. A glance at the clock shows I made it a solid four hours without the threat of tears. It might be a new record in these past three weeks.
“Open it!” they shout as a unified voice.
I sniffle in earnest while lifting folds of tissue paper. Nestled on the bottom is a shirt. When I unfold the white fabric, our class picture from the fall greets me. On the back is a squiggly collection of their signatures. The effort of stopping the emotion from trickling out is useless. I wipe the moisture away, but more droplets drift down my cheeks.
“Don’t be sad,” Gabby whispers.
“These are happy tears, kiddo.” I press a palm over my mouth to muffle a sob. Being buried deep in the feels has gotten me into one pickle after another recently. I clear my throat and address the entire class. “Thank you all so much. I’ll treasure this forever.”
“Put it on,” they chant.
Who am I to deny such a request? I tug the cotton over my head without worrying about tact. “Perfect fit. Now I have something to remember my favorite students by.”
“You’re not supposed to have favorites,” Kurtis scolds.
“I won’t tell if you don’t.” I press a finger to my lips.
Giggles and nods fill the room. The urge to send them off with an epic goodbye fills my chest, but stringing a sentence together is suddenly a challenge. My throat clenches as I try to express what they mean to me. More tears leak from my eyes faster than I can swipe the drips away. This personalized memento steals my composure, leaving me without the ability to form adequate words. Instead, I kneel and allow them to tackle me in a group hug. The dismissal bell sounds while we’re still in a tangle. Rather than the typical rush, the students shuffle off with a somber gait. A fresh ache stabs at my belly. I hate to be responsible for dulling their moods.
A solo kiddo separates from the pack and smashes herself into my side. “I don’t want you to go.”
I ruffle Gabby’s hair. “You’ll still see me around, sweetie. I’ll just be right down the hall.”
Her little fingers grip onto my jeans. “But you aren’t
