Page 31 of Tanner

“You kissed him.”

“Yes, and you fucked her.”

The bell rings, signaling that my students will be up here any minute, escorted by the parent coordinator.

“That was just sex. A man has needs. It’s primal. Whom we fuck has nothing to do with whom we love. I love you, Harper. I want you to come home.”

He holds out his hand for me to take, but I refuse.

“If that’s what love is, then I never want to experience it again.”

“Come on, Pooh Bear.” He uses my nickname, and I cringe at the words.

I used to think it was cute. Now, I recoil.

With my shoulders pushed back, I declare, “I am worth more than your petty apology. I deserve more than your sad definition of love. Don’t call me ever again, and don’t dare come looking for me. It’s over, Aaron.”

The students start walking through the door. They’re loud and boisterous, as they usually are on Monday mornings. They greet me as they enter, and a few comment on the “suit” in the classroom. I watch as his eyes glance over each of them in annoyance. When all the kids are in, I walk to the door and motion for Aaron to exit.

With a shake of his head, he grabs his overcoat that was draped on my desk and walks out of the room. Before he exits completely, he turns to me with a warning. “Don’t come crawling back when you’re finished slumming around town.”

“I’d rather crawl into the darkest alleys with a nobody than spend another day with you in your ivory tower.”

With that, I close my classroom door on Aaron, on the past, and on all the hurt I’ve been feeling for way too long.

8

HARPER

Aaron showing up this morning started my entire day off on the wrong foot. I dropped my folder of graded work on the floor and watched as loose-leaf papers scattered around the room. I tripped on a backpack and almost came out of the restroom with toilet paper stuck to my ass. Thank God Willa was there to pull it off.

As I have taught for eight years, my lesson plans haven’t changed much, so I teach on autopilot. While the students spend an entire hour writing essays to compare and contrast the characters, settings, and events from the two books we’ve read so far this year, I sit at my desk and look at the graffiti art we saw this morning.

Tanner would certainly be the type of guy to create such art. He’s mysterious with a little rebellion in him. I don’t know; maybe I’m romanticizing him. Maybe there’s a part of me that wants him to have made this … for me.

Quinton, a student, asks me a question twice before I realize he’s talking to me. I look up at him like he’s speaking a foreign language when I snap out of it and get back to work.

When the end-of-the-day bell rings, I’m happy to be done. I wasn’t as present as I should have been for the kids. They don’t deserve that. They should only get the best of me, and today was not my day.

I have a staff meeting at three, and I focus on my boss as she discusses the new fundraiser we’ll be initiating over the upcoming weeks and the anti-bullying campaign we are excelling at.

I grade the essays my students wrote today and go over my lesson plan for tomorrow. I also read the essays a few of my students have written to apply for scholarships and grants to attend private middle schools next year.

The sun has set before I know it. Rolling my neck from side to side, I hear it creak.

April has a dinner with clients tonight, so the bathroom is all mine. A hot bath and a bottle of wine sound like the perfect way to end this day.

I button up my coat as I step outside. The sun sets earlier now, and the temperature drops ten degrees without a warning. I’m walking for a solid five minutes before I realize I’m not walking in the direction of the bus but rather the subway, which happens to be close to Tanner’s studio.

As Freud says, there are no accidents.

I blame my subconscious.

Oh, who am I kidding? I totally walked this way on purpose.

The neon lights of the bar across the street call out to me. There’s a glowing red image of a lion under the name of the bar, The Den.

I was going to go home for wine, but I’m suddenly feeling like having a drink in the presence of strangers.