“Jefffff.” Meredith’s hand is fluttering in front of my face as she looks down at me from where she stands. She shakes her head and lets out a breath. I look to my right and notice that Kevin has packed up his honey and brie and is talking to the table next to us.
“Listen—,” Mer says, sitting back down and dragging the seat towards me so she’s uncomfortably close. “If you’re this worried about her?—”
I open my mouth to speak and she puts her palm against my lips more forcefully than necessary.
“Then you need to just man-up and go after her. Make it so she can’t run. Corner her ass.”
Of all the things I want to do to her ass, cornering it is not one.
“That doesn’t feel right,” I say when she slides her fingers away from my mouth. “Maybe she just needs to?—”
“Devonneedssomebody who’s gonna show up, Jeff. She takes care of everyone—shows up for everyone else. Her students. Her friends. Her mom. She needs someone who will do the same for her. You gotta trust me on this,” she says. She pats my leg. “Besides, it can't get much worse, right? She won’t even answer your texts.”
Shit. She has a point.
“I’ll think about it,” I promise.
She rolls her eyes and checks her apple watch.
“Think less. Do more.”
And then she’s walking away, murmuring something about men being pussies, and I’m stuck looking at the back of her white coat trying to hide just how much I want her to be right.
Chapter Thirty
Devon
Lesson 31: When he shows up, that’s a good thing. When he shows up with cupcakes and Hugh Jackman, you’re screwed.
Fridays—well Fun Fridays as my students call them—are normally my favorite. Even the sight of my eighth graders wearing the unicorn horns I bought at the dollar store and playing ring toss onto each other's heads after solving fraction problems didn’t make me forget. Well, it did when the ring bounced off the Smartboard and hit me directly in the forehead. But that was only because I was stunned stupid for a moment. The second the bell rang and the desks were empty and quiet, I was right back where I started. Trapped in my head, empty and raw.
As I walk across my mom’s yard, I see her through her oversized bay window, sitting at the kitchen table gesturing with her hands as her head nods and her lips move. She always keepsher shit together around this time of year for me, the selfless woman that she is. And in return I do the same, waiting till she makes her way to bed to let the mask slip off—let the looping thoughts pull me straight down into the bowels of a restless night.
November blows.
If Mom can fake it, then I can do the same. She’s badass for the most part, crippling anxiety about leaving her property notwithstanding, but it is embarrassing that she’s talking to Brutus like he’s a human being. Her head falls back and she’s laughing, and I shake my head, pulling my jacket tighter around my chest as I watch. It’s one thing to talk at your dog, but to laugh like your dog is telling you a dirty joke—well I knew my mom had issues, but this is something else.
“Ma, I’m home,” I holler as I push through the front door and let my bags schlump to the floor. I cringe at the sound. That’s a pile of 127 pre-tests that I stared at during my prep whilst I should have been grading. Four hours worth of grading and sorting to look forward to. This is what comes of breaking your rules.
“Devon, honey. You’re early,” my mom says in a pitch that makes me wonder if she’s been drinking already. Not that I can blame her. I’d have started two hours ago if I hadn’t been at my desk.
“It’s 4:30—the time I get home every day,” I say, stepping into the kitchen. It takes me a moment to process what my eyes are sending to my brain.
Handsome familiar man.
Familiar kitchen setting.
Very familiar woman I call mother.
“Hi,” Jeff says as he stands. Brutus doesn’t bother to move from where he’s sprawled over Jeff’s toes.
“Hi,” I whisper. I feel like I’m in some awkward scene of a teenage movie. My cheeks feel warm and I turn a little to catch sight of my mom staring at me with this brutal wide-eyed look that says “if you don’t jump him, I will.” I roll my eyes at her and turn back to Jeff.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, and it comes out too harsh. As usual. But he doesn’t flinch. Jeff is used to me by now.
“I wanted to check on you,” he says.
“Check on me?” I repeat as I try to shush my heart so he doesn’t hear it slamming against my sternum like the Blue Man Group pounding trash can lids. Dumbass heart.
