But I’m sorry about yours
My parents divorced because my dad hated how quickly he had to grow up when my mom got pregnant with me, and my mom hated being a “wife” in any traditional sense. I was unplanned and (mostly) unwanted. I was hoping the Hargraves would want me, but it seems, since we got married, that theywant meto fit the mold of perfect spouse more than they care to get to know me for the true me.
Veronica:How did the ham turn out?
Me:Great! But I didn’t cook it.
Veronica:????????????
Me:It’s too hard to explain
Though, I wish I could, because I desperately need some advice right now. Veronica is the best listener I know.
Veronica:Are things any better with Patrick?
Me:Define “better”
Veronica:Did you TALK to him?
Me:Define “talk”
Veronica:Sometimes you make me want to throttle you like I’m playing a pent-up housewife hungry for the Best Supporting Actress statuette
Me:If I were in the Academy, I’d vote for you!
Veronica:Btw, where were u last night?
Veronica:Last night, my mom didn’t text me when she left home like she usually does when she comes over, so I checked the little “find my friends” thing and it showed you at home, then when I was going to bed and closing out my apps, it showed you were in the middle of the Arctic???
I laugh nervously to myself, experiencing extreme heart palpitations. Veronica would never believe where I really was, so I send off the first lie I can think of.
Me:Dropped my phone in the toilet last night. Tried the rice thing, but it must still be glitching! LOL
Veronica:Figures LOL. Don’t go breaking your phone. You’re not tenured yet. You can’t afford a new one.
Her text only serves to remind me of the reality of my thankless job. I’m barely keeping my head above water this year, and when my aide leaves in January, I have no idea what I’m going to do. If my performance slips too badly, I could end up classless next September. Though, maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing.
As of late, I’ve been losing the resolve to continue teaching. From a group of alpha fifth graders tearing the crepe paper down off my curated bulletin boards to a select group of parents complaining to the principal that I have a photo of Patrick and me on my desk (on our wedding day! Not even kissing!) to overcrowding in our classrooms, I’m growing frequently fed up.
I can’t possibly be making a difference in my students’ lives because the system is so set against us teachers doing our jobs. Especially queer ones.
I think about how last night was magical. Our adventure was blissful and fun and had immediate, tangible effects. I mean, Chasten and Angelica were proof of that, sitting right in my own dining room.
If we sign on for one year as Santa and Mrs. Cl—the Merriest Mister—it’ll be like a mini marriage vacation.
We won’t be pulled away by our jobs with opposing schedules, and while I’m sure the new positions in the North Pole (I can’tbelieve I’m even thinking about the North Pole right now!) will be stressful at times, I can’t imagine we won’t have our nights and weekends free. Something we can’t even count on here.
The village at the North Pole had a sense of romance and wonder to it. All those couples on the Council of Priors seemed happy. Even Colleen and Nicholas, who had to be well into their eighties, seemed still madly in love.
I want that. I want the side-by-side rocking chairs that end with side-by-side burial plots.
On that beach, on our wedding day, we said “’til death do us part,” and I meant that. But before our engagement, we also said we’d only stay together for as long as we were having fun, making each other better people by tag-teaming the hell out of life.
I meantthat,too.
These days it’s felt so much like we’re on travelators in an airport going in two different directions. It’s no fun waving at one another from opposite ends of a crowded, massive terminal.
Maybe this whole Santa thing is the spark we need to get us moving as one again.
