I’ll never know. I’d like to think so.
I’m proud of the woman I became after everything. Not because I didn’t fail but because I survived. No, I thrived. I found my purpose, my origin point. I keep my true friends close and occasionally date men who don’t need a dissertation before they kiss me.
But every single day, I choose myself.
Even when early on, I wondered if I should. But teaching is, at its core, learning every day. Having faith and resilience in yourself as well as your students. Believing people are capable of more than they think they are. You believe effort compounds. You believe that mistakes can be corrected. Isn’t that why we do math with pencils and erasers?
Somewhere along the way, I learned to apply that grace to myself. My mind thinks of Mark Espias in town and his obvious regret. Part of me wonders who he could possibly believe would want to reach out. Then I set the thought of him aside.
Today is about me and my students. I refuse to give the past any more space in my head.
At least, that’s the lie I tell myself.
5
NEUTRAL ZONE TURNOVER: FORCING A MISTAKE BETWEEN BLUE LINES
Present Day
The town sign says, “Welcome Home,” but I’m cautiously optimistic about that. After all, I haven’t been here but a few days.
I trusted Mark to scout a place for me. When he showed me the photos of the home in Willow Creek, I offered full pricewithout having set foot on the property—soaring ceilings, wide-plank wood floors, floor to ceiling windows trying to invite the forest inside.
Most importantly, it offered privacy.
“Willow Creek is a nice place. Also, you’ll only be about ninety minutes from OKC,” Mark tells me as I click through the electronic signatures to transfer the property ownership.
I’m grateful for his help. I don’t want to go back to my family in Ireland, despite knowing they’d welcome me with open arms. I just couldn’t fathom being smothered in constant worry by my mother. “I assume it’s close enough for me to check in with the local specialist Moser recommended?”
“Easily. Yet you won’t be fodder for the paparazzi stalking your place.”
“Nice choice.”
“Trust me, I think you’ll find the town alone makes the place worth it.”
“I’m sure I will.”
He pushes, “You might have some work to do, but I’m sure you’ll forgive me once you see the sights in town.”
“You keep going on and on about Willow Creek. It’s a town.”
“There’s great things about it,” he stammers, still not used to the rough side of my tongue.
“What’s so special about it?”
“For you? The view from the local cafe—The Honeyed Hearth.”
I can’t fault Mark for his choice of homes. I’m not surprised it’s gorgeous. After all, Mark knows me better than anyone else. He’s a trusted friend who always has my best interest at heart. When I think back to the dark days around Amy and I ending, all I can recall is Mark by my side. A true friend, he let me know about the photo circulating so I could prepare myself.
Amy. Thinking about her still makes my heart hurt worse than any hit my head’s taken. She’s a bruise I never let heal. I’ve missed what we had every single day we’ve been apart, even though I was eventually convinced to move on with my life.
Still, it’s hard not to wonder how she’d react to me living in a place like this. In our conversations, we always talked about living in big cities.
The irony isn’t lost on me.
Closing my eyes, I try to ease the memories threatening to break through. When I do, instead of reliving tension, I’m assaulted with visions from my past. Her. Us. Despite trying to bury my regret under a thousand distractions, my one regret pushes to the forefront of my thoughts.
As always, the first image that appears is a visual of Amy pleading with me to listen to her. Begging me. I wince from both my physical ache as well as the emotional ones I’ve never dealt with properly. With the hindsight of time, I realize Amy was one hundred percent right for throwing me out of her room, out of her life.
