One quick scan of the living room shows me they’re all there. Cindy on the couch, Josie on her playmat in the middle of the floor, and Steven…sitting right next to her. He’s hunched over, shaking a toy in front of her as she squirms, her head bobbing wildly.
They’re okay.
As if she can read my mind—or maybe the red viewing dot gave me away—Cindy looks at the camera and gives a thumbs up. Then she waves me off, mouthinggo to work.I laugh and click off my phone. I need to give that woman a raise.
Inside the conference room is a large U-shaped table with a podium standing in the center. I shift some furniture around, making it more interview appropriate, then set out résumé copies. Daniels, Benny, and Ellie trickle in shortly after.
Benny is scanning the résumé like he’s preparing for a test, Ellie pulls out her sticky notepad, and Daniels sits at the edge of the table, closest to the door, like he’s already planning an early escape.
“Everyone ready?” I ask, even though we all know this is a formality. Experienced teachers are hard to come by, especially in the creative arts department. And with her being Malcolm’s sister, we’re all well aware of the subconscious obligation to give her a chance.
Ellie hums. “Bring in the new girl.”
A few minutes later, the door opens, and Mackenzie steps in. She’s about my age, maybe a little younger, wearing a navy blouse and a smile that’s polite but careful. Her long, blonde hair is pulled back in a loose ponytail at the nape of her neck.
We go through the basics at first: her experience, her certifications, her teaching philosophy. It’s all solid, thoughtful. But there’s a pause when Benny leans forward with his elbows on the table.
“So,” he says gently, but I know that curious undertone of his, “why apply for a new job in the middle of the school year? It won’t be an easy transition.”
Mackenzie’s crystal-blue eyes flick down to her hands folded neatly in her lap. “No,” she says softly, “it won’t be.”
She lets out a nervous laugh, and I feel the urge to kick Benny under the table. Ellie must beat me to it because Benny winces and reaches for his knee.
“I’m sorry,” he grunts out, “I’m not trying to make this difficult. I just want to be forthcoming.”
“That’s alright,” Mackenzie says. Then she sits up straighter, loosening her tight-gripped hands, and takes a readying breath. “Well, as some of you know…” Her eyes linger on Daniels for a beat before shifting to me. “I’m a widow.”
I knew this. Malcolm shared this with all of us. But it doesn’t make the words hurt any less.
“And not to be crass, Mr. Divata, but if I can survive that, I think I can survive a curriculum adjustment.”
We all let out a laugh, quiet but definitely amused. Benny beams at her spryness and relaxes back into his chair, the tell-tale sign that she has this in the bag in his mind.
“You know,” she continues, clearing her throat, “for the longest time, I was having a hard time coping. Every day felt like something to survive. But then I realized…it’s a beautiful thing to have something to miss.” She gives a small, almost apologetic smile. “It means I had something worth missing.”
The room goes quiet now, taking this in. Benny smiles at her, and Ellie gives her an encouraging nod. Daniels seems distracted but masks it by scribbling something on his paper.
But me? I can’t stop thinking about Steven. About the mornings where we argued over nothing, about the days I was wishing for quiet, wishing forspace.I used to think love was supposed to get easier with time, that the hard days meant something wasn’t working.Weweren’t working.
“I think the hard parts are a reminder that it was real. That part of my life was so real, and I’m grateful for that.” Mackenzie’s eyes glimmer with tears as she forces a smile. Whether it’s happy or sad, I don’t pry. I let her wordsping back and forth in my brain, hitting all the soft spots. The vulnerable spots.
Is she right? Do the hard parts make itreal?The anger, the exhaustion, the noise. They mean I’m stillfeelingsomething. Feelings that might be complicated, sure, but they’re feelings, nonetheless.
It’s a beautiful thing to have something that makes me angry and anxious and human. As messy as it is, it’s a part of my life, whether I want to acknowledge it or not. And I’ve been so afraid to feel anything.
Anything that could be a burden to someone, a challenge, a disruption, I’ve run from it. I’ve shut myself down, even considering tearing apart my family because I don’t want to face them. I don’t want to fight. But feeling anything at all means life is still here.
Steven is still here.
Iamstill here.
Chapter twenty-four
Steven
It’sstrange,howsomethingso ordinary can feel like a punch to the chest.
The last few days of helping Cindy with Josie have been wonderful. Watching this baby,mybaby, do simple things like rolling over or holding her own bottle have left me feeling lightheaded. Like there’s too much joy passing between the synapses of my brain or something.
