I shrug.
I send Oliver a text.
Dorothy??
Shit, sorry, I forgot to tell you. Mom called me. I switched her class. Figured that was the best solution for everyone. Everything go ok?
yes, but wish you would’ve warned me
Sorry. I was distracted
by what
your tits
I’m sad when only twenty-nine students walk into my classroom that morning.
Max comes in a few minutes after the bell. He’s been great the past few days, and I think he’s still staying with mom. He bounds into the classroom with his usual effervescence, but stops short when he sees that Dorothy’s desk is empty.
He walks up to my desk while everyone quietly works on their morning work. “Where’s Dorothy?” he asks me, eyebrows furrowed.
I sigh, irritated that Oliver has put me in this position without warning, not giving me any time to think about the consequences for the rest of my class. “Hey bud. She’s been moved to Ms. Stewart’s class,” I tell him.
“For the day?”
“No, for the rest of the school year,” I say quietly.
It’s like watching a flower wilt. His little shoulders and head draw downwards. “Is it because of me?” he whispers, barely audible.
Heart breaking, I try to draw him in for a hug. He’s mostly resistant, so I just let him be. “No, Max, no way. Not because of you. You’ve been so kind to her lately. You two were becoming great friends.”
He sniffs. “Is it because of my dad?”
My skin wants to crawl from all the feelings I’m currently feeling, so I can only imagine how Max feels. How can this little boy be so perceptive? Why isn’t Oliver here tohave this discussion? I truly don’t know what to say, how much to disclose. “Umm… I think so, Max. Yes.”
He nods once. I watch him as he gathers himself, shoving all the negative thoughts and feelings deep inside. I watch as his eyes clear and his spine grows straight. I’m uncomfortable watching him. It’s like watching myself in a mirror. I know this look. I’m personally very familiar with this strategy.
“Max…”
He strides away, sits at his desk, and begins his morning work.
“You did the thing again,” I tell Oliver that night, with a mouthful of toothpaste.
“Huh?” Oliver says, or grunts. It’s hard to tell around the toothbrush.
I spit into the sink. “You did the thing again,” I repeat
“Wa tha?” Oliver always brushes for the full two minutes, while I lose patience around the first.
“I wish you told me you were switching Dorothy out so that I could’ve prepared my class. Or prepared myself to respond to questions from my class. Especially from Max.”
He finally spits, looking apologetic. “I know. I’m sorry. I just did it a few days ago, and I forgot to tell you about it. Her parents were really worried.”
“I get they were worried, but that’s not the problem,” I insist.
He comes to stand behind me, wrapping his huge body around me. We look at one another in the mirror. “I’m sorry,” he tells me again, with a kiss to my temple.
“I’m worried about Max. He’s been doing great, but after today… I don’t think he’s going to handle it well. His new friend being moved out of his class because of reasons related to him?”
