by M. Billiter
I’ve got this.
This time when my fingers touched the keys, they had purpose.
* * *
After that, I never had an issue while I was in class. I may not go on the path to become a teacher, but whatever path I do take, I want any child in my care to realize they’re safe and that nothing bad will happen to them while they’re with me.
If I were to be a teacher, I would utilize the same method and reassure all my students of their safety. There is nothing I won’t do for someone who’s hurting, because I understand what they’ve been through and have shed just as many tears as them.
Above anything else, a teacher should be a protector to students who can’t protect themselves. We need more teachers like Mr. Brown. I believe there are some out there but not nearly enough.
I think as a working class, certain teachers become too focused on the end result of their job in regards to their own benefits rather than their students. Teachers are quite literally raising the next generation of adults, and this is a job that should never be taken lightly. I believe teachers should receive twice as many benefits and pay, because their job is the foundation for America and these children. If we underpay and underappreciate teachers, then they in return will underappreciate their students and jobs.
If we want to have any hope for a future, we need to take better care of the individuals living in that future. Teachers like Mr. Brown are so important to me because that one interaction changed my whole perspective on life and how I was living it. A life of constant fear and anxiety leads to very bad habits and traits. I am thankful that I never fully allowed those habits to take hold.
The unique challenges I had to pursue for my education began in my home and extended into the classroom until one teacher made me feel safe.
* * *
“Hell yes.” I ran a spell check, attached it to an email to Professor Nigel, and hit Send. Next stop, Cheyenne. I knew Hope wasn’t expecting me, but it wasn’t like she’d get mad—especially since I planned on letting her win at Mario Kart.
27
Aaron
Everybody these days liked to get things off their chest, so it was simply a matter of time before Hannah found out I’d hooked up with Amber during Halloween weekend. Maybe when my mom went to college, a person could do one thing at one school and not have the other school hear about it, but that was before Facebook, Instagram, and Snapchat. People posted pics, instant messaged, and took screenshots all in some vain effort to stay relevant. I wasn’t a fan.
Hannah and I were in such a good place, and I didn’t want it to end. I glanced out of my apartment window and saw her brown hair sticking out of her bike helmet like the tail of a kite trailing behind her. A guy could get lost in that hair. Or her goodness. Hannah was one of those genuinely good people who made me want to be a better person, even when it came to dealing with the morons on my volunteer house building team.
She parked her orange fat-tire cruiser that she called Archie and wrapped the bike chain through the frame and around the post.
I laughed and slid open the frosty window. “I think Archie’s safe.”
Hannah stomped her feet in the snow. “Stop.” She giggled. “Archie’s my only mode of transportation. If I lose him, I’m stuck. How would I get around campus?”
I shrugged. “There’s always Lyft or Uber.”
Her laughter increased. “Sure.” She unsnapped her helmet and tossed her hair over her shoulder. “Don’t I look like the kind of girl who would hire a driver?”
I mimicked her hair flip and shrugged. “High maintenance takes different shapes.”
She removed her gloves and fanned them toward me. “You’re crazy.”
“No, that’s my brother,” I said, laughing at my own joke.
She shook her head before disappearing into the stairwell that led to my apartment. I opened the door just as she appeared on my doorstep.
“Hello.” She leaned toward me, and I met her with a kiss. It was the kind of kiss that led to clothes coming off, which was what I hoped would happen.
She pressed against my chest, pushing me back. “We have to talk.”
My stomach suddenly dropped like I was on a roller coaster. Here it comes. She found out about Amber.
“Okay.” I led her toward the futon in my apartment, which functioned as both my bed and sofa.
She dropped her backpack on the floor beside her and sat on the edge like she wasn’t sure she wanted to stay.
Why did I fuck this up?
“What’s going on?” It felt like my heart jumped into my throat. It still beat just as fast and made it hard to swallow.
“I’m late.”
I nodded. “For a midterm?”
When Hannah smiled, everything was right with the world. Please don’t leave me.
“No.” She shook her head. “Not a midterm. My period’s late, and I’m never late.”
Period. Late. It took a moment for what she’d said to sink in. “Pregnant?” I knew my voice changed, and I was pretty sure my face did as well. But not in a bad way, more in an oh-my-God kind of surprised way. “Are you pregnant?”
She reached into the front pocket of her backpack and withdrew a white-and-pink box. “I don’t know. But we will in about—” She glanced at the side of the box. “—five to seven minutes.”
I ran my palm over my head. “Wow. Okay.” I jumped off the futon and reached for her. “Let’s do this.”
She took my hand but didn’t move. “You’re not mad?”
I squeezed her fingers. “Why would I be mad?”
“Aaron, I could be pregnant. We’re in our senior year of college.”
I smiled. “Yeah, you could be pregnant with my baby.” I tilted my head and raised a single eyebrow. “It is my baby, right?”
Tears filled her eyes. “You’re so crazy.”
“No.” I slowly shook my head. “That’s my brother.”
* * *
In seven minutes’ time, I checked my email, made a cup of tea for Hannah, and continually stared at a pregnancy test for results that took six minutes to reveal.
“Is that…?” I asked beside her in the small bathroom of my apartment.
She turned toward me, tears streaming down her face.
“Okay,” I said. “Okay. A baby. Wow. Okay, we got this.” I didn’t know who I was trying to reassure more.
Her crying intensified, and between sobs she said, “I can’t do this. I have a plan. This isn’t part of my plan.”
Hannah needed more than reassurance. She needed something concrete. And I wasn’t sure what that was.
She leaned her head on my shoulder, and I deeply inhaled. Today, she smelled like the sweet, rich fragrance of jasmine.
“Green apple with jasmine,” she said between sniffles, as if reading my mind.
And that was when I knew we’d be okay. Hannah just got me. Other than Branson, no one understood me the way she did. So even though my head spun in a thousand different directions, I narrowed it down to one thought.
“When my mom first got sick,” I shared about a topic I rarely, if ever, discussed, “I planted a jasmine tree outside her bedroom window in Casper. I wanted her to wake up or go to bed with the smell of jasmine. It’s not too much or not enough but just the right amount.” I kissed the top of Hannah’s head and held my lips there for a moment.
“What happened to the plant when you moved?” she asked, and I gently smiled.
Hannah was a native Clevelander. I was a Wyomingite.
“I uprooted it and brought it with me,” I said.
Her eyes were red from crying, but they remained the most beautiful eyes I’d ever seen.
“Wyoming, huh?” she said like she was trying it on.
“Or Ohio.” I wrapped my arm around her. “We’ve got nine months to figure it out.”
“Aaron….”
“What?”
“I’m not sure I can do this.”
What does that mean?
But I was too afraid to ask because I didn’t want to know the answer. Instead, I held her against me and imagined the life we could have together.
28
Branson
Hope’s red car was parked along the street, and a black truck I didn’t recognize was in her designated carport. I found a space a few spots ahead of her car.
I popped a mint into my mouth. The package promised three hours of fresh breath. If things went the way I planned, I’d only need it to last effectively for the first hour.
I tossed the mint tin on the passenger seat and stole a quick glance at myself in the rearview. Then Hope appeared in the frame. She was walking some guy out of her condo. Something stopped me from exiting my car. Instead, I watched from the rearview mirror.
She slipped her hand in his, then leaned up on her tiptoes, the way she did with me, and kissed him. It wasn’t a peck on the cheek; it was an open-mouthed kiss on the lips. It was the kind of kiss she gave me before I left.
What? It felt like someone had sucker punched me. All the air left my lungs and sank to the pit of my stomach that was hollow with hurt.
Why would she do this to me?
He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her in to him. He was about my height, only fitter. He wasn’t on meds that made him look like a melting marshmallow.
Who is he?
When he brushed her hair off her face and she smiled, my eyes stung.
Hope. I thought we were in love.
I loved her the way she loved on him. No matter how badly it hurt, I couldn’t look away. The more I watched, the greater the divide grew between my heart and my head until I couldn’t think straight.
I pushed open the door to my car and walked toward them. The dude saw me first. He took a measured step away from Hope, whose fair face grew fainter.
“Branson.”
“Hey,” I said inches away from them. Their body language shifted, no longer all cuddly and close. The guy started to flex his height against me when I shut that shit down.
“I’m Branson.” I extended my hand to him.
“Jake.” His handshake wasn’t impressive.
“What are you doing here?” Hope’s voice teetered on the edge of hysterical, and yet I found mine perfectly calm.
“Thought I’d surprise you,” I said without looking at her. “Guess the joke’s on me.”
“Hey, I don’t want any trouble.” Jake held up his hands.
I slowly nodded. “No trouble. Just wanted to meet Hope’s family friend.”
“Branson, it’s not like that,” Hope said, and I laughed.
“Pretty sure it is.” I nodded toward her condo. “Could you just get my Mario Kart game?”
“But—”
“Yeah, it’s not a parting gift. I need my game back.”
She glanced at Jake and then back at me. Neither of us said anything. When it came to video games, bro code was strong.
Hope disappeared into her condo, and the silence between Jake and me got weird.
“I’ve actually got to get to work,” he finally said.
I nodded. What was there to say? Good luck fucking my girlfriend? He walked toward his black truck, and Hope ran out of her condo toward him. That was when I knew. He was the one she wanted, not me.
When she reappeared, she practically threw the video game at me.
“Are you happy now?”
When I didn’t respond, she continued to spiral.
“I told you I don’t like to be alone,” she said. “This shouldn’t come as a surprise.”
But it did. I thought we were in love. I was. I was in love with you. The words remained stuck somewhere between the Hope I’d had and the despair I now felt.
So I did the only thing I knew to do to stop from hurting.
I walked away.
29
Aaron
In the twenty-four hours since I’d discovered my girlfriend was pregnant, I didn’t think my feet hit the ground. What a feeling. I was going to be a dad. I wanted to spend every waking moment with Hannah, but she insisted that she fly solo for her appointment at the healthcare center on campus.
While I waited, I paced my apartment looking for something new to clean and continually checked my phone. No messages, emails, or missed calls. Every inch of my apartment was sanitized. What’s taking so long?
I turned on my Bluetooth speaker that was linked to my phone. The Sheryl Crow version of “Here Comes the Sun” that was in Bee Movie played. Such a happy tune. Branson liked the Nina Simone cover, but I couldn’t get into the jazz version—too damn depressing.
Carson always gave us shit that the original with her favorite Beatle was the best. I couldn’t wait to tell my little sister that she was going to be an aunt. She’ll freak.
I was so lost in my thoughts that I didn’t hear her knock until I heard her call out, “Hey, let me in.”
I opened the door, and a rush of cold air blew into the apartment. I gently pulled Hannah inside.
“Did you ride your bike? Is that okay to do? You know, with….”
The way her forehead wrinkled told me this was not a topic she wanted to discuss.
“Tea?” I asked, and she shook her head.
“Join me on the couch.” She took my hand and led me to my futon that smelled like pine-scented cleaner. I didn’t know how to clean a futon cushion, so I’d wiped it down with an antibacterial spray. Now I wished I hadn’t.
“How’d things go?” My excitement was getting the best of me.
“I’m about five weeks pregnant,” she said, and I couldn’t help smiling, but she wasn’t. “They checked my urine and then took blood.”
“But you’re pregnant, right?”
“Oh yeah, I’m pregnant.”
“Okay that’s good, right?” I gently squeezed her hand, which felt limp.
“Aaron, I’ve decided to terminate the pregnancy,” she said, and just like when she told me she was late, it took a few seconds to register.
“Like an abortion?”
“Yes.” Her voice never wavered. “I already made the appointment.”
“What?” My raised voice did nothing to deter her.
“We live in Ohio.”
“Yeah, and?”
“For a poli sci major, you sure are daft on local issues.”
“Okay, I’m not sure how attacking me or my major will help clear this up for me.” What the fuck?
“I’m sorry.” Her hand no longer felt limp in mine, only cool to the touch. “The heartbeat law.”
My mind blanked.
“It’s against the law in Ohio to terminate a pregnancy after a fetal heartbeat is detected, which”—she squeezed my hand to stop my interruption—“is about five to six weeks into a pregnancy.”
“Did they detect a heartbeat?”
She pulled away her hand. “No, Aaron, they didn’t.” She stood, and so did I.
“What? You come in here and lay this on me, and I’m just supposed to get on board with it?”
“Yeah, you are.”
My eyes watered and my throat ached. I was still floating, but not in a good way. I felt myself tear apart—one part of me was in my apartment and another part of me watched everything that was happening from above.
“Can we talk about it?” I asked.
“Why? So you can try and change my mind?” She crossed her arms over her chest.
“No.” I reached for her hand, but she kept it tucked against her.
“I don’t need your consent,” she said, which almost knocked me to my knees.
“Hannah.” My voice pleaded with her for a different outcome.
Her eyes glistened with tears. “Aaron, please… please don’t make this harder than it already is.” She lowered her head. “I’m sorry.”
I tried to keep it together, but all I could think of were the dreams I already had for us. “Can I go with you?”
When she looked up at me, her eyes told me her answer.
“Okay
.” I wanted to hold her, but she seemed too far away to reach. “Hey, why don’t I make your favorite dinner—rice and chicken. We could binge-watch something. Maybe Dead to Me. I know you’ve wanted to see that.”
A weak smile followed. “Not tonight. Maybe some other time?”
But we both knew there wouldn’t be another time. When Hannah left, she’d never return. I would always be a reminder of something I was sure she’d want to forget.
There were so many things I wanted to say, but I didn’t want anything to sound like pressure. That was the last thing I ever wanted to do to Hannah.
So I said what I thought she needed to hear, but it wasn’t how I felt. It was so far from how I felt. “I’m so sorry this happened.”
She wrapped her hands around her body like she was trying to hug herself, and it just about broke me.
“Oh, Hannah.”
Tears streamed down her face. “I’ll be okay.”
But we wouldn’t be okay. And I didn’t know how to put us back together.
She kissed me on the cheek, and I bit the inside of my mouth to stop from losing it.
Then she turned toward the door, and I watched as she walked out of my life.
30
David and Me
“Bonita, I’m back.” I opened the closet where I’d left her with a bowl of water and food.
“Bonita?” I bent and gently touched her soft fur that was matted and cold. “Oh, Bonita. What happened?”
“She got what she deserved.”
No one deserves this.
Her eyes were closed and her body was limp. “What have I done?”
Shame crept over me. I’m too much like my dad.
“Stop freaking out.”
“Are you kidding me? She’s dead. My cat’s dead.”
“It’s a cat, not a child.”
I rubbed my hand over my bald head. I still couldn’t believe I’d shaved it. Everything was spiraling out of control.
