“We can get out of your hair, if you need to rest,” Mr. Poynter said. Despite his nearly devilish good looks, he almost looked as anxious as I was. Maybe it shouldn’t have, but it did put me at ease to know I wasn’t the only one who wasn’t sure of the social protocol of meeting one of my students’ parents after traumatizing them.
And did I mention I wasn’t wearing a bra? Granted, my girls were barely B cups on a good day, but uh… hospitals werecold,and I didn’t really feel like the girls pointing in opposite cardinal directions was wholly appropriate.
I gripped my blanket tighter, not sure if I should send them away or not. I was leaning towards no, because there was a not-insignificant part of me that wouldn’t mind the company. Especially if it was Benny. I’d been trying not to think about it much until I was out of the hospital, but I really had wanted to do something special for him. My own personal little hero.
Before I could decide one way or another, Benny was practically hopping over to the recliner and threw himself into it.
“Actually, I thought you might be tired but also lonely, so I brought my favorite book to read to you. You said it’s good fornightmares, but I also think it would be good for a scary place like a hospital.”
I couldn’t hold it in any longer. Big, fat, salty tears welled up and cascaded down my cheeks. My breath was hitching slightly, but at least there were no big, gasping sobs. God, that would have been evenmoreembarrassing.
“Oh no, Miss Fischbacher, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. We don’t have to read.”
“You don’t have to apologize,” I said quickly through the tears. “I’m just really,reallyhappy right now. You’ve made my day.”
“But… Missus Fischbacher, you’re crying?”
Back to the longer name. A cute thing I’d noticed about many of my kids was that they generally all called me Missus or Miss Fischbacher, but it would always be the short version if they were particularly excited, alarmed, or in a rush. It was just a little idiosyncrasy of the kids, and yet somehow it made more tears come.
I really was loved, wasn’t I? Howluckywas that? Some people went their whole lives without any community, and here I was looking at mine right in the face. Would they move on to someone else in a year? Of course. That meant I was doing my job right. But they would remain in my heart forever—long after they graduated and went on to their own lives.
“Sometimes, when people are especially happy, they cry,” Mr. Poynter said, grabbing the smaller, non-reclining chair and sliding it over next to his son. “And that’s okay.”
“I didn’t know that could happen. Is that a human thing or a sh?—”
“All of us can do that,” he continued gently. “Humans, animals, you name it.”
Benny looked back at me, and his small eyebrows unfurled while a tentative smile spread across his cherubic features. “I’mreally glad that I could make you happy, Miss Fischbacher. You’re the best teacher I’ve ever had.”
“You’ve only had one other teacher, my dear,” I said after he surprised a sharp laugh out of me.
“Yeah, and you’re the best. So there!”
“Thank you very much, sweetie. I’m so happy to have you in my class. And I hope you know I mean that.”
“’Course! You only ever say what you mean.” Another pause as his gaze flicked from me, to his dad, and then back to the book in his hands. “So… was that a yes to reading?”
“It was a very enthusiastic yes,” I said, leaning back on the pillows. “I would love to hear your favorite book.”
“Awesome! Okay, lemme get settled.”
He wriggled around, his feet swinging off the floor because of the height of the recliner, but that didn’t seem to distract him as he slowly and intently began to read to me a story about an herbivore dinosaur trying to find his pack again.
Honestly, after a couple of pages, I was quite impressed by how quickly he could rattle off all the complicated dinosaur names. When I glanced at his dad after he’d nailedPachycephalosaurus,Mr. Poynter just grinned proudly at me, clearly pleased with his son’s verbal prowess. Benny was far from my first student who was into dinos, but he was certainly the first I’d heard easily pronounce a seven-syllable name.
It wasn’t a long book—children’s books never were—but Benny read relatively slowly when he wasn’t enunciating Latin classifications of giant lizards, so for twenty minutes, I lay there, occasionally closing my eyes and listening to a lonelyHypsilophodonrun across an entire territory to find his family again. It was a sweet and funny story with great illustrations, so I could see why he dug it so much.
“Thank you,” I murmured once he finished, stood, and took a small bow. “That was very fun, Benny.”
“I knew you would like it.”
“Really? Why’s that?”
“Well, you know a lot about everything, so I figured you’d already know all the dinos. I tried sharing this with Mickey, but he said their names were too annoying and there wasn’t enough T-Rex.” The way his nose wrinkled at the mention of T-rex had me chuckling. “He doesn’t even really know about the shrink-wrapping stuff or feathers!”
“Well, most people don’t know about shrink-wrapping,” I said, and I was quite surprised that Benny did. It wasn’t a common term, at least not when used with dinos, but it was the phenomenon where many artists tended to depict dinosaurs with minimal flesh and bulk, like their skin wasshrink-wrappedover their bones. “And a lot of people don’t realize that many of the birds we see today are actual living dinosaurs.”
Benny beamed at me, like I’d just told him I was throwing him his own personal pizza party. “See, Dad! I told you she would know all about dinos!”
