“He’s all right. Finished the year with a B, I think. He’s in my class this year.”
“Good. He’s a good student,” I said. “He just needs encouragement.”
“I’ll do my best.” Sarah smiled faintly. “I don’t expect to replace you.”
I glanced around my (former) classroom. My bulletin board of epic opening lines had been swapped for motivational quotes. My readers’ corner now housed a conference-style table. “You already did.”
Red stained her cheekbones. “I meant…your students will always remember you. And so will I. I’d be happy to write you a reference,” she added.
I’d been a student teacher in Sarah’s classroom. I owed her my first job. She was my mentor and, I’d thought, my friend. But the days when I would have blurted out my plans, when I could have confided in her my dreams of becoming a writer, were gone. “Thanks.”
“Just because you’ve lost the battle doesn’t mean you can’t continue the fight.”
I was momentarily speechless. And curious. And confused. “Sarah, if you feel that way, why didn’t you back me up when Colin’s parents complained?”
She looked surprised. “I did. Jim wanted to fire you. I saved your job. It was your choice not to come back.”
A weight I didn’t know I’d been carrying lifted from my chest. “Okay. Thanks.”
“What will you do now?”
The words stirred up a memory: Joe’s deep brown eyes, his deep, low voice asking me, “And then what?”
Once I’d imagined my future stretching out in an unbroken line to the horizon. But I didn’t need to see the whole path shining in front of me anymore. All I needed was to take the next step. “Remember how you told me we could make a fresh start in August?”
She nodded.
“That’s what I’m doing,” I said.
—
I had tostop at the liquor store on Western Avenue for more boxes, but by nine o’clock the trunk of my mother’s car was weighted down with books, the back seat crammed with black garbage bags.
Paige had thoughtfully left out a blanket and an extra pillow. I didn’t need more. The apartment, built in the years before central air-conditioning and climate change, held the August heat like an oven. I took off my bra and shook out a blanket, memories tumbling from the folds.Joe, bringing me water and ibuprofen. Coming out of the bathroom in his boxers, his hair damp from the shower. Kissing me good night, his beardgently chafing my throat. Lying beside me in the dark, the mattress shaking and creaking with our stifled laughter.
Yearning scraped my insides. The knock on the door was a relief. I wondered if Paige had forgotten her key or was simply respecting my privacy.
I knuckled away my tears and swung it wide. “You’re home early,” I said cheerfully.
But the person standing on the other side of the door wasn’t Paige.
The hall light gleamed on his short blond hair and clean surgeon’s face.
“Hello, Anne,” Chris said.
30
Joe
“You should take her flowers.Or candy,” Hailey said.
Joe’s jaw set as he scraped the whiskers from his neck. No point in pretending he didn’t know what she was talking about. There were witnesses, for God’s sake. “Anne’s mom owns a fudge shop. Giving her candy isn’t going to fix things.”
He wasn’t sure anything would fix things.
Hailey continued to lean in the doorway of their shared bathroom, watching with critical eyes.
He lowered his razor. “Don’t you have something better to do?”
