I saw pain. I saw longing. I saw anger. But I also saw bittersweet melancholy and erstwhile nostalgia. I knew those last two very well: the pain of missing someone so lovely combined with the inevitable march of happy memories they left behind. My mother had both made mistakes and been horribly mistreated, but she had also brought so much joy in my childhood. No matter how our story had turned out, I was so incredibly grateful that she’d been my mom.
“It’s not easy.”
“No. I would never say it is.”
“Do you mind…” Time for another pause. It seemed that Benny, I, and Mr. Poynter all needed a second or two to decide on the best words. After all, there were so many of them. “How did she pass?”
“The same sickness I have,” I answered honestly, which I hadn’t been expecting to do. Normally, I just said she was ill because I didn’t really want to get into it, but something about Mr. Poynter made me want to open up to him. And it wasn’t because he was hot or completely jacked. It was the softness with which he looked at his son, and the clear devotion he had to what was left of his family.
His eyebrows shot up to his hairline, and all the color drained from his face. “But you told Benny you?—”
“Oh, no, no, no, I’ll be fine!” I said, a little taken aback by how horrified he’d looked. It was like he genuinely cared. “My mother had a hard time getting diagnosed, and it was more than a decade ago, so the treatment wasn’t as good. Also, there was so much damage to her heart by the time she was diagnosed, that there was only so much that could be done.”
“I… I’m so sorry.” He didn’t speak for a long moment, and I felt no need to fill the air. Sometimes, it was okay to just be quiet and listen. “That couldn’t have been easy, watching that progression.”
“No, it wasn’t.” I didn’t know what possessed me, but I reached out and offered my hand. Mr. Poynter took it, shooting me a grateful look. “Please understand that when I say I’m here for whatever support the two of you need, I really mean it. While I don’t know exactly what you’re going through, I do have a good idea, Mr. Poynter.”
“Please, I’ve told you to call me Ben.”
“All right then, Ben.” A sappy smile spread over my lips. I was feeling quite fond of the father of the student who had basically saved my life, and maybe it wasn’tthatstrange.
He was kind; he was handsome; he loved his son; and he’d brought me the biggest gift basket I’d ever had. And as someone who’d lost their mother and been hospitalized several times since my senior year, I’d received alotof gift baskets.
Our hands stayed clasped, and we stared into each other’s eyes. I knew I was getting too caught up in the fantasy going on in my head, because it felt like I was having my own meet-cute in a romance movie. Except Mr. Poy—Benand I had already met, and he was the parent of one of my students.
It wasn’t completely forbidden for teachers to date a single parent, but it was messy. And it reminded me of a crass phrase Grandma Mack had once muttered when one of her landscapers had asked her to dinner:Don’t shit where you eat. So yeah, I wasdefinitely getting carried away. It wasn’t even like I had time to date.
The toilet flushed, and we broke apart. I could have sworn I saw the faintest flush of color on his cheeks as we separated.
Man, was I delulu? I wasn’t exactly a bombshell, and even though I wastryingto be nice to myself like Nox had asked, I knew the reality of the situation. I looked far too much like a withered old lady for someone as handsome and charming as Ben to be attracted to. He probably liked someone with muscle, who could keep up with him. Or someone with plenty of curves.
“Hey there, buddy,” he said, standing. “You wanna pack up your book so we can head out?”
“Sure! Thank you for letting us visit, Missus Fischbacher.”
“Thank you for visiting! I can’t wait to snack on all the lovely treats you got me after my nap.”
“Okie dokie! We’re all gonna miss you in class, but make sure you rest, okay?”
I gave the young man a salute. “Just like Natalie said.”
“You remembered!”
“Come on, Junior. We’ve taken up enough of your teacher’s time. Besides, I know Veronica is probably anxious to have you back home.”
“Goodbye, Missus Fischbacher!”
“Goodbye, Benny.”
“Goodbye, Miss Fischbacher,” Ben said. My stomach swooped at the warm smile he gave me.
“Please,” I said, trying to mimic his exact tone from earlier. “Call me Giselle.”
I didn’t quite have a word for the expression that crossed through his features, but I hadn’t seen it before.
“Giselle?”
Panic tightened my chest. “Of course you don’t have to, if that’s too informal.”
