Sumi raised her eyebrows at her coworker’s disclosure, sliding her phone into her bag.This can wait.She needed to think through how she would respond, and didn’t want to do anything hasty that would jeopardize a relationship she had come to depend on.See? You’re not the only one who wants to walk out!
“What would you do? I mean, if you’re not teaching, what would you do instead?”
“Oh, I didn’t mean quitting,” the other woman laughed. “Are you kidding? Between the two of us, we’ve got another decade on our student loans. But I don’t think I can do middle school for another two years. Especially with kids at home. It’s so much grading, constantly following up with assignments they never turn in. You know how it goes.”
Sumi nodded, knowing all too well how it went.
“I used to do early education, and I would be happy to go back. When you go home for the day, you actually feel like you’re off the clock. Second-grade is the sweet spot. You’re past the crying stage but most of them are still sweet enough. These kids? With their hormones? I’m going to wind up in jail if I have to do this for another two years.”
The other woman paused to stuff her mouth with caramelized onion and feta cheese in puff pastry as Sumi sympathetically laughed her agreement.Damned middle schoolers and their puddles of puberty.
“But if I weren’t teaching,” she continued around her mouthful, “I’ve always wanted to open a B&B. But that would require a bigger house and nicer furniture and the desire to get up and make strangers breakfast. But if we’re talking second life dream jobs, that might be it.”
“I’ve always wanted a flower shop,” Sumi blurted, heat spreading over her cheeks.Why don’t you put it on a sign and start wearing it around, that might be less obvious. “Just a littleplace, nothing too fancy or big, where you can stop in and get a bouquet to brighten your day.”
“That sounds so nice. It can be on the same block as the big house for the fancy furniture I don’t have.”
“That speech was justriveting, wasn’t it? We’re so lucky to have someone like that on the state board. There’s just so much riding on what happens next, don’t you think? Have you voted yet?”
The bespectacled older woman had come out of nowhere, appearing at their elbow. Jordan must have given a speech, Sumi realized. One that she had missed, dillydallying in her classroom, catching up on her messages from ChaoticConcertina. Another tiny pang of guilt shivered through her as the older woman stuffed a miniature quiche into her mouth, waiting for someone to answer.It’s giving emotional affair.Sumi said nothing, knowing her grimace-like smile probably made her look feral, annoyed at that treacherous little voice.You wouldn’t need to have an emotional affair if your emotional needs were being met. They’re barely being acknowledged.
She would tell her principal at the end of the week, she vowed. The final week of school was a short one, then teachers had another few days cleaning out their classrooms. Hers was already nearly empty. She had already begun the act of permanently moving out, and was confident she’d have the entirety of her classroom in a box by the last day of school. She could avoid the banquet dinner, the speeches, the union vote altogether.After all, what does it matter?
She hadn’t cast a ballot the last time the union had called for a vote on some contract issue either. Instead, she had gone to a free floral arranging class being sponsored by the botanical gardens. Sumi knew other teachers bolstered their degrees with drop-ins and lectures and workshops every few years, but shehad never felt moved to do so. Flowers and plants were what she loved, and if she had to spend her days breaking up fights and constantly asking her middle school charges to put away their phones at the school Monday through Friday, shouldn’t that mean the rest of the time belonged to her? To do whatshewanted?
The class had focused on vase designs, something she could do in her sleep, and she had left in such a good mood that she’d decided to stop off and treat herself to a fresh manicure, not remembering that she had been meant to vote that day until the following evening.
Jordan had been incandescent. He didn’t doanger. Anger was ‘for people of a small intellect.’ He had never blown up at her, never raised his voice. He didn’t need to. The palette of his emotions were hued with sanctimony and disappointment, his metaphorical paintbrush dipping into indignation and self-righteousness like a seasoned master. He’d made her feel terrible without raising his voice at all, which was somehow worse than if he had simply argued with her.
When her team peer began to speak, Sumi made good her escape. This room, she thought, making her way to the door, was full of teachers just like her on the surface — barely making ends meet as they bought supplies for their classrooms every year out of their own pockets, contemplating that they would likely be paying back student loans until retirement. They were career educators, they gave everything they had to their students and schools, uncaring if they had sufficient retirement accounts or if they found themselves playing bouncer in the hallways more often than they actually taught anything. She didn’t share their passion, had already mentally checked out of this job, and was ready to close this chapter of her life.Close the whole damned book and pick a new one.
It wouldn’t do to go changing the type of relationship she had with ChaoticConcertina. Not right now. Not when she had come to rely on him so much to be her voice of reason, her therapist, the keeper of her innermost thoughts and dreams. After she was gone, after she had settled into her new home and her new life . . . maybe things could change. Their energies matched, at least, they did online.Compatible rizz for sure.
It was a bad idea to change anything now, but after she’d started over again . . . she wouldn’t rule it out, Sumi thought, pulling away from the school, feeling the possibility of what the future held thrumming within her.
After you’re someone new, maybe he can be part of the new vibe. Deadass.
The Flashback You Should Have Been Anticipating
Sumi
It all started when she joined the houseplant server earlier in the year, seeking advice on her ailing Swiss cheese philodendron.
DiscHorse felt oddly comfortable ? more private than most of the other popular social media platforms, completely absent of the typical audience one found on CrowdJournal, which mostly appealed to her parents’ demographic. One could find a community for almost every interest, reminding her of the message boards and blogging communities of her teenage years.
The evening she had typed out her initial message to the group, it had been quiet, with only a small handful of respondents, none of their advice particularly good. It wasn’t until she’d gone to bed that a response had come, the notification pinging on her phone screen.
ChaoticConcertina:Sounds like an issue with soil content?
Have you repotted lately?
She’d straightened in bed, light from her phone illuminating her face as she read the response, quickly tapping out a more detailed summary of the plant’s progress.
ChaoticConcertina. Their profile was empty beyond username and pronouns. He/Him.
Instantly, Sumi was on her guard. She was no stranger to men online, who often left her asking the age old question: why are men? He’d asked a few more questions, had given her the best advice, asking for photos.
When he sent her a DM after she had posted the photo of the pathetically sagging plant, she prepared herself for the inevitable dick pic.Block him and forget about it. To her light shock, all he’d done was let her know that he was going to ask a friend of his who owned a shop specializing in rare houseplants.
