How are you feeling?
Her reply comes almost immediately.
Christa
Fine. Apart from the fact I left a tub of strawberries and cream ice cream at the checkout and didn’t notice until I got home. Still furious with myself.
A reluctant smile tugs at my mouth. I want to know more even if it is just silly stuff.
Sod it.I hit call.
“Hello?” she answers, suspicious already.
“Didn’t trust you to convey the full tragedy by text,” I say. “Felt like this deserved a live retelling.”
Her sigh is dramatic. “It was limited edition, Geoff.”
“Right...”
“I don’t think I’ve ever felt this betrayed by dairy.”
That loosens something in my chest. I lean back in the old chair, which squeaks loudly.
“You know,” she says lightly, “you don’t need to check in with me every day.”
I straighten. “Does it annoy you?”
“No,” she says immediately. “Not at all. I just don’t want you feeling like you have to.”
I glance around the empty classroom. The desks. The quiet. The waiting.
“I don’t,” I say. “I want to.”
There’s a beat.
“I’ve got a lot going on,” she adds carefully. “And so do you.”
“I know. But there are always a few minutes in a day to say hi,” I reply. Then, without really thinking about it, because thinking would only ruin it, I add, “And if youneed anything… anything at all, you tell me. I’ll get it. I’ll sort it. Whatever it is.”
She’s quiet for a moment.
“That’s a dangerous thing to say to a pregnant woman,” she says finally.
I smile. “I’m serious.”
Another pause. Softer this time.
“Alright,” she says. “In that case… carry on with your daily check ins.”
Movement at the doorway catches my eye. Three lads have wandered in early and have very clearly heard enough.
“Sirrr,” one of them drawls, stretching the word to within an inch of its life. “That sounded well romantic.”
Another presses his hands to his chest. “‘Anything at all.’ Wow.”
The third whistles. “Didn’t know old people still do romance.”
I close my eyes briefly.
