“We can’t do this. You. Me. What happened at the hotel was a mistake.”
And there it is. His words land like a missed shot, a ball bouncing off the rim, leaving the game unfinished.
“Oh.”
I don’t even realize it comes out of my mouth until it’s there, floating between us.
“That’s fine. I mean, sure, of course, if that’s what you want. Or don’t want, I suppose.”
I move my hand to the door, preparing to open it for him.
“I just can’t. With you. We can’t.”
I open my mouth to reply, but Harry interrupts me.
“This is what’s best.”
Harry moves toward the door. Me. But before I open it, letting him out, I ask, “Did I do something wrong?”
He closes his eyes, and I can hear the air escaping his nostrils.
“Never mind,” I say and open the door. “See you around, I guess.”
And that’s it. He walks out of my office, and the silence he leaves behind feels heavier than anything he could have said.
6
DARIUS
I really thoughtwe had a connection. Sure, physical, but something more. Clearly, I was wrong. I never expected Harry to be the type of guy who hooks up and then ghosts, but I guess I didn’t know him as well as I thought. At least we don’t have to see each other too often. His class only has PE twice a week, and I can eat lunch in my office to avoid seeing him in the teacher’s lounge.
Later that morning, when Lexi gets smashed in the face with a ball, I don’t even notice until the screaming reverberates in the gym.
“Coach? Coach?” It’s Maynor—Coach Applegate to the kids during practice, but Mr. Applegate during the day when he’s a special education aide. He’s here to support Lexi and Hugh. Thankfully, he’s already kneeling by a very distraught Lexi.
“Sorry, sorry,” I stammer to Maynor.
“Fifth graders, water break,” I holler. “Then laps.” I head over as the rest of the class groans.
“Don’t give me attitude,” I yell, a little louder than I mean to.
They’ll spend most of their time lined up by the fountain, taking long drinks, getting back in line, and barely do a lap around the gym’s perimeter by the time we’re back to dodgeball, but they complain anyway. They’re ten—it’s in their DNA.
“What happened?” I ask as I kneel next to Maynor and Lexi.
He’s examining her face, and I join him, searching for swelling and/or blood. Lexi’s cheeks are red and swollen, but she’s also sobbing, so it’s hard to discern the culprit.
“She should go to the nurse,” I say. “Just to be safe.”
He nods, but as he stands, Lexi’s crying stops, and she says, “No, I’m okay. I want to keep playing.”
Maynor and I exchange a look.
“Why don’t you get a drink with the other kids,” Maynor says, “and then we’ll check in.” He glances at me. “We can always stop by Mrs. Lowell’s on the way back to class.”
Lexi nods and runs over to the line in front of the water fountain. Her sneakers squeak against the shiny gym floor with each quick step, the sound sharp and rhythmic, echoing throughout the otherwise quiet space.
“You okay, Coach?” Maynor rises from the wood floor and wipes his hands on his backside.
