Madelyn: Solid choice.
Max: It’s easy to tune out after the seventh time, which is nice.
Violet: People, it’s four am. I’m glad she’s okay but stop blowing up my phone.
Madelyn: *GIF* of Justin Timberlake singing “Cry me a river”
Violet: *GIF* of Stanley from “The Office” rolling his eyes
Max: *GIF* of Jake Gyllenhaal waving and walking out ofa room
“Goooood morning, Garnet Golden Eagles!”The energy in my greeting is there, but it’s going to be a fake-it-til-you-make-it kind of day. I’m tired. There was the incident itself, dinner with Stella and Opal, followed by all the phone calls, and an adrenaline letdown that took hours to kick in. Finally falling asleep at two a.m. made my alarm go off all too quickly. I dig deep within and find some energy. “It’s going to be another great day!” I stand on the curb and let out a shrill-sounding call as the first kids exit their parents’ cars.
“What is that supposed to be?” Blake is the first to exit, hopping out of Jen’s car.
“That would be an eagle, Blake.” My hand is on the frame of the car door when Jen leans over the center console, purposefully showing off her cleavage and batting her eyelashes.
“I agree with Blake when he says you are the most fun teacher at this school.”
I didn’t get enough sleep to deal with her today. Instead of words, I look at her with a scowl and repeat the eagle call while closing the door. She drives off in a fit of giggles, like that was shameless flirting instead of me reverting to obnoxious middle school boy behavior.
“Dear diary: Today I saw something I never thought I’d see at school drop-off.”
I know that voice. It hits my gut with warmth, and I turn around to see Emma hurry into the building as Nola walks toward me, a shoebox in hand.
“Are you telling me the last P.E. teacher didn’t make the mascot eagle calls to buoy students’ spirits?” I throw up myhand to high-five a few kids who jump out of their mom’s minivan as they walk by. Nola shakes her head with a cocked eyebrow and I tsk. “And he called himself an educator.”
She stands off to the side and patiently waits while I greet students until the last grandpa drives off. I take in Nola. Today’s the first time I’ve seen her truly dressed down—other than the carnival when she was a parrot—and I’m digging her laidback style. Joggers and a hoodie, hair in a knot on the top of her head with flyaways. There are a couple streaks of paint across her stomach, where she must’ve wiped a brush or her hand, and a sprinkle of color in her hair.
The first bell rings, and she offers me the box she’s been holding this whole time. “It’s not a pair of Asics.”
“That’s lucky because I don’t wear a size eight.” I lift the lid to find four king-sized bags of Peanut Butter M&M’s stacked on top of one another. My lips tick up on one side.
“I asked Emma if she thought you liked donuts, but she wanted to go this route instead,” Nola says. “I hear they’re your favorite.”
Emma’s not wrong, and my stash from the bet during playoffs has gotten low, but I don’t need or want pity candy because she’s uncomfortable with what she witnessed yesterday. It’s life—it’s my story right now and I’m okay with it. Not okay-okay, but I have no choice, so I’m working on accepting it as fine.
“I should let you go to class.” She brushes her loose hairs off her face with the back of her hand and takes a few steps back.
“That’s it? You just wanted to bring me some M&M’s for fun?” I give her an opening to say why she’s really here, what she’s really thinking, but she’s not biting.
Taking a few more steps backward, she smirks. “What I’mthinking is there’s something about you that screams ‘there’s a guy who can’t buy his own candy.’”
I watch her turn and walk back to her car, swishing her hips with the same swagger she carried that night at the bar. Later, during my prep period, I open the box again and notice words written in Sharpie on the bottom of the box under the bags. She’s given me her phone number and the note I didn’t know I needed.
If anybody understands not wanting to talk about the thing, it’s me. Not because of what I saw with Stella. Because life is not always kind to us. When you decide you’re ready to talk about it, please pick me. I’m all ears.
10
MAXFORD
Idon’t call Nola for two and a half weeks. My sisters have drilled into me the general rule of thumb to wait a day or two before calling a woman, but I spent a solid week staring at the bottom of that box before I even put the number in my phone. During that time, I processed every possible avenue: maybe she gave it to me but didn’t actually want me to use it; maybe she changed her mind the further she’s been removed from the incident and didn’t know how to tell me; maybe I’d already let too much time go by and now things would be awkward if I did call her.
Didn’t matter. I’ve been busy after work, visiting Stella, winning Bingo games, and getting back into training shape. Tonight I’m in my office, going through some of Stella’s files for the hundredth time. I know her whole life doesn’t fall squarely on my shoulders. She’s well taken care of in a nursing care facility. By default of living in Boise close to her, I was named executor of her will, and I’m trying to be the adult who understands all the many pieces that make up her largeestate. I choose to work on this task when I need to calm my mind and give it a specific focus.
The call from my agent has been rattling in the back of my brain day and night. As far as I was concerned two weeks ago, that door was tightly shut and bolted forever. My attitude at being put on probation hadn’t been great. Eighty games is a large chunk of any season to have to sit out. Aaron tried to spin positive PR for me, and I ran it into the ground, letting all my feelings be made known. I messed up, but I wasn’t going down without the world hearing they were losing the best baseball player to have ever graced MLB with his presence.
After two straight days of lighting my life and career on fire, I went to see Madelyn and let it all blow over. A month later, the Armadillos let me know my contract was expiring and they weren’t interested in renegotiations. Before I could even attempt an apology tour, we got the call from Stella about her diagnosis, and I packed both of us up.
