Chapter 31
Miriam
Entertaining sixth and seventh graders is no walk in the park. I was dabbling in electrical circuit kits at their age. When I’d visit, my mother would accuse me of trying to blow up the house because science and technology held my interest over makeup and boys. I knew what I was doing back then. Right now, I’ve got no clue.
I’m officially the STEM program coordinator at the Jefferson Moselle Community Center, and I’ve only thought about crying in the closet once. My father didn’t miss the opportunity to remind me how “unbefitting” the title is for a woman with a PhD, but I’m enjoying the work.
The kids are quick to crack on me for wearing leggings two days in a row or rambling about formulas. They’re happy otherwise. Every child who steps into our gathering space of worn rugs and painted cinder-block walls has an appetite for creativity and hands-on application. I’m not a teacher—at least, I wasn’t before this week—but I’m happy these kids want to learn. Engineering and the ability to problem-solve shapes societies.I’m guiding the next generation of world builders who will bring their imagination to life through practical solutions.
Today’s project is Valentine’s Day-inspired. I’m not a fan of the holiday, but the kids wanted to make gifts. So, we’re coding. They’re using a binary code alphabet reference to write “secret notes like they did in the 1900s.” A direct quote.
I advised against the practice in school. The last thing I need on my conscious is an eleven-year-old telling another child to suck a fart out of their butt, as Harmony so eloquently spelled out in zeroes and ones before I took her paper.
Flatulence aside, the coding bracelets we’re creating are keeping them hard at work. We’re spelling out “Love” and “Peace,” using pink beads for the zeros, red for the ones, and white for the spaces between the letters.
“I finished, Ms. Miriam.” Marc shoves his bracelets in my face with a gap-toothed grin. “I made three.”
I smile. “That’s nice.”
“One for each girlfriend.”
The smile is gone.
“You havegirlfriends, with ans?” Marc is nine and cried until he was allowed to participate in my after-school program. He’s decked out in a Roblox shirt and sweats, and his love life puts my nonexistent roster to shame.
“Yup.” He lifts a finger to describe each one. “Monica goes to my mama’s church. Kiana I see at the Y. Angel is in my homeroom. My brother says I’m too young to be locked down by one female.”
I bet your brother says, “Grand rising,” and talks about ancient Egypt too.
“That’s…something,” I say.
He points to the craft on my desk. “Did you make that for someone special?”
My fingers graze the friendship bracelet Antonio made me on my wrist. “You could say that.”
Antonio is special to me. A good friend, I remind myself, and nothing else.
It wasn’t my intention to create distance, but I was at a loss on how to solve the challenge of us. There is nous. What happened last Saturday was…well, there are no words—at least none that I’ll repeat here. I thought I could separate my need for physical gratification from my feelings for him, which aren’t going away. I pretended what we did had no effect on me, but the truth is that it does. Compartmentalizing might help with complex projects, but it doesn’t work with matters of the heart.
I can’t fix the hunger to be touched again, but I can prevent the recurrence to ensure my heart, head, and vagina don’t get the wrong idea. “Antonio” and “relationship” have never appeared in the same sentence. I’m not ready for one this second, but I will be at some point. Falling for my best friend would lead to hurt, not to mention an imploding friendship. There’s too much to lose if we cross the line, and last weekend proved it.
I haven’t seen him since we flew back to Buffalo. Yes, I could’ve reached out, but I know the drill. The start of rugby season is always busy for him as the Steel make last-minute adjustments ahead of their first game. He texted to wish me luck on my new job before he flew out yesterday.
It’s weird. Missing someone you have no romantic connections to but have somehow threaded your life with theirs.
Marc runs back to a table with construction paper and markers. Resources are a mere wish list buried underneath maintenance and general operating costs, but we make it work.
I slip out my phone from a desk drawer to send Antonio a picture of the bracelet I made him.
Hi. I made this for you. It’s a binary coding bracelet that says “Peace.” The kids are making them for Valentine’s Day.
It’s not a peace offering. Maybe an icebreaker?
Happy Valentine’s Day BTW. You might be out with the team. Did you know that the International Space Station has a Houston area code?
Houston also has the largest freeway in the country, with twenty-six lanes at its widest point. You’re probably better off walking to the stadium, depending on where your hotel is. There’s also a six-mile underground pedestrian tunnel system.
You’re rambling.
