by Kelly Myers
“Amy, can you hang back for a sec?” I smile at her. “I just thought of a few more things I want to go over.”
Amy looks up from where she’s packing up her bag and nods.
Without making too big of a deal about it, I wait until all the other students have left. Amy approaches where I’m leaning against my desk, and I scramble for something natural to say before I lead into my main point.
“Do you think you could take a few photos at the festival this weekend?” We don’t have official photographers so the reporters all share the task. “I can check one out from the media library for you on the day. I just noticed your softball shots were strong, so I think you could do well with getting pics outdoors for the festival.”
“Sure.” Amy perks up a bit. “I’d like that.”
“Great, I’ll make sure there’s a camera waiting for you at the table.” I widen my eyes and snap my fingers, as if I’m just thinking of something. “Oh, that reminds me, we’ll need plates and napkins for the bake sale.”
I furrow my brow and glance at Amy. “Do you think you could be in charge of bringing in plastic plates and napkins instead of baked goods? I know it’s last minute, but we’ll definitely need them.”
Amy looks like she’s about to straining her neck, she’s nodding her head so hard. “Yeah, I’ll just ask my dad to pick some up at the store today.”
“Great.” I smile. “Thank you so much.”
This way, Amy doesn’t have to feel bad about asking her dad to bake something, but she still gets to participate. I knew it would just embarrass her further if I told her she didn’t have to bring any baked goods in when everyone else did.
As Amy tugs her backpack on and heads for the door, I nod to myself. I feel good about smoothing over a tense moment.
The selfish side of me also likes the idea that David is super busy. Too busy, maybe, to even show up at the Spring Festival.
I’m sure I can handle myself if he does appear. I had a momentary lapse due to his attractiveness, but I’m over it now. I can be composed.
All the same, I would rather not run into him.
Chapter Fourteen
On Saturday, luck is not on my side.
Not only does David show up, he’s one of the first parents to arrive. I’m just setting up the table in a corner of the schoolyard, when I see him approaching. Amy and Kate are bobbing along at his side. Honestly, the trio looks too cute for words.
I knew there was a chance that David would show up. It’s why I took care as I dressed this morning. It’s why I pulled on my flowy black pants with the little white flowers and my flattering lace top with the puffy sleeves. I wanted to look chic but relaxed. And, if I’m being honest, I like how the high-waisted pants skim over my stomach and flatter the curves of my hips.
David is holding Kate’s hand while Amy runs ahead. And in his other arm, held up high as if he’s determined to show it off, is a plate of chocolate chip cookies. Not even purchased from a store, as far as I can tell.
In a flash, I realize that David is a better father than I thought. Amy must have told him about the plates assignment, and he must have realized in an instant what it meant. Amy may have been pleased with my little trick, but David had clearly decided that if all the other kids were bringing in baked goods, then Amy was bringing in baked goods as well.
Amy placed a pile of paper plates and napkins down on the table and grinned up at me. “We got the plates, but we made some cookies too, just so we would have enough.”
“That’s brilliant.” I talk to Amy since looking at David is too difficult. “We can never have too many baked goods I think.”
Amy does a little hop of joy as David stops at the table and places the plate down.
“Hello,” he says.
I force myself to remain composed as I look into his eyes and smile. “Hi, welcome to the Spring Festival.”
I have to talk to him as if he is any other parent. All of a sudden, it’s difficult to recall exactly how I usually speak to parents. Probably because I’ve never slept with any other parents.
“The table looks good.” David is wearing a total poker face, but his voice is pleasant and polite. “I’m excited to read the paper.”
“Dad, it’s so good,” Amy gushes. “It looks professional.”
David and I share a secret little smile at her enthusiasm, and David’s eyes soften as he looks at his oldest daughter.
Another newspaper student arrives with his mother, and I greet them. This mother is an old veteran of bake sales and school events, and instantly begins directing Amy and her son on how to set up the signs.
I move to the side and turn to David. He’s engrossed in watching Amy, and so I take the opportunity to look at him. He’s wearing jeans and a worn T-shirt, and without question, he’ll be the coolest dad at the festival. In fact, I would bet my entire savings that at least two of the bold divorced mothers are going to make a move. The idea of watching other women flirt with him sends a streak of hot anger coursing through me.
I shake it off. I have absolutely no right to be territorial. He should flirt with a divorcee. That would be a much more appropriate match for him.
David turns and catches my eye. I flush at being caught staring, but he doesn’t seem to mind.
“I don’t think you’ve met Kate.” David bends over and places his hand on Kate’s back. “This is Miss Ramirez, if you’re lucky, she’ll teach you some day.”
Kate looks up and waves at me. Somehow, David has ended up with the two most adorable daughters in all of creation. Kate’s hair is darker than Amy’s, but she has the same big eyes, only hers are green like David’s. Overall, Kate favors David in appearance, which makes me think that Amy must resemble her deceased mother.
“Nice to meet you, Kate.” I keep my tone even and avoid being too patronizing since I know how kids her age resent being talked down to.
“I liked the books you sent,” Kate says. “I’ve already read two.”
“Oh, amazing, which ones?”
Kate steps forward with eagerness as she describes the books she read and what she liked about them. She seems more lighthearted than Amy. More free and easy. It makes sense. If their mother died five years ago, Kate would not have been old enough to remember anything. It’s sad that she will never know her mother, but that lack of a memory means she doesn’t know what she’s missing.
Whereas Amy will always feel that critical absence.
After chatting with me, Kate drifts over to the table and hovers near Amy’s side. Most seventh-graders get a little annoyed with younger siblings tagging along, but Amy handles Kate well. She doesn’t nag or try to push her little sister away. It’s sweet how well they get along. I’m sure they have their little squabbles, but they are clearly not always at each other’s throats.
“Thanks.” David’s murmur is so close to my ear that I jump a little as I turn to look up at him.
“For what?”
“Letting Amy bring just plates.” David shrugs. “Although, I am capable of baking some cookies with my daughter.”
There’s a note of bitterness in his voice. He’s used to people assuming he can’t do certain things just because he’s a father, not a mother. I feel bad, but I stand by what I did.
“I wasn’t sure,” I say. “And, Amy seemed uncertain.”
“I know,” David says. “That’s why I’m grateful for what you did.”
His eyes gleam with genuine gratitude, and I’m confused. How can he treat me with such kindness and respect after our last phone call? We hardly behaved with anything resembling cordiality.
I nod to show that I accept his thanks. “It’s no problem.”
“Just doing your job,” David says.
His mention of my job makes me think of what we did the last time we were together. I recall the passionate kisses and the way he dragged his hands over my body. I wonder if he’s thinking the same thing. I purse my lips and banish such musings from my mind.
> My job is the problem. It’s one of the many reasons we can’t repeat all that passionate kissing.
“So this paper,” David says. “My expectations are pretty high.”
I want to hug him for being so lighthearted.
“It’s good.” I lift my chin with obvious pride. “Seriously, I would wager it’s the best middle school paper in the midwest.”
David laughs at that. “Amy’s enjoyed working on it, that’s for sure.”
“Good, I’m glad.” I look over at the students fussing over the table, and there’s a bit of an awkward silence.
I start as I remember that I’m at the festival to do an actual job. “I better go give them their assignments.”
I nod at David and walk over to the table to share the schedule I drew up so that pairs of students have hour blocks at which they man the table. The rest of the day, they’re free to wander about the festival.
Since Amy doesn’t cover the table until another hour, she announces that she’s going to explore. I grab her the camera I rented from the library, and once she has it round her neck, she dashes off with her friend. To my surprise, Kate tags along. Amy doesn’t seem to mind at all, even though her friends are significantly older than Kate is. At those ages, the four years between 8 and 12 seem like a gaping chasm.
Kind of like the ten years between me and David seems so wide.
He’s still standing a little to the side, watching his daughters from afar but making no move to follow. I grab a copy of the paper from the pile on the desk and drift over to him. The overeager mother and the two students on the first shift have things well in hand.
“Your daughters get on well,” I say. “I don’t have any sisters, but my brother and I fought tooth and claw at that age.”
“Trust me, they have their moments.” David gives me a chagrined look that indicates just how vicious the siblings can fight. “But yeah, overall Amy takes care of Kate, which I love of course. Sometimes I just worry that Amy takes on the mothering role too much. I don’t want her to grow up too fast.”
It makes sense that Amy would try to fill her mother’s shoes after the death, and I sympathize with David’s worry. No little girl should have those kinds of burdens.
“Here’s the paper.” I hand him the copy, and as he takes it, our fingers brush. I pull my hand back as quickly as I can.
David bends over the newspaper and begins to read, a lock of hair falling over his forehead.
He’s grinning when he looks up. “This is good.”
“Amy’s story is on Page 2,” I say.
David flips to the page, and my heart starts to melt at the way he smiles over his daughter’s work.
When he’s done, he gives me a nod. “You’re good at this. Making the paper legitimate while also making sure the writing is done by and about the kids.”
I flush at the compliment. Of course, I know I’m a good teacher. I’ve never gotten weighted down by the burn-out or cynicism that affects so many of my peers. I know I’m excellent at my job. Even so, it feels good to hear someone else say it.
“Thank you,” I say. “Honestly, I enjoy the paper. A few years ago I was advising the drama club, and trust me, it was a mess.”
David’s lips curve up in a sly grin. “You’re not one for theatrics?”
“Oh, I love to go see a show and sit in the audience,” I say. “But as far as casting a bunch of dramatic kids who all want the lead part and trying to put together something on stage – it was a disaster.”
“You’re not much of an actress?” David asks. “You look like you could be.”
I let out a breathy laugh and glance around. There’s no one nearby, which is good. David would start an absolute halestorm of gossip if anyone heard him flattering my appearance in such a way.
“I’m stiff as a board.” I shrug cheerfully. “The kids knew it too – whenever I had to read lines with them, the looks of disdain were scathing.”
David chuckles. It’s hard to tell, but I swear he takes a miniscule step closer to me. “Well, I’m glad you switched to the school newspaper. Amy’s not much of an actress either, and she was determined to sign up for whatever club you were advising.”
I widen my eyes. I knew Amy joined the newspaper at my suggestion, but I didn’t realize it was all because of me.
“She’s good at it.” I cast my eyes around the festival, observing the joyful kids and the parents trailing after them.
I’m confused by this exchange with David. It’s been nice. Better than nice. In fact, there are moments when he’s been downright flirty.
Not just him. I’ve been flirting back as well.
And it feels right. Despite the fact that we’ve had one date that resulted in sex and then a very strained phone call, there’s hardly any awkwardness.
“So,” David says. “Give me all the dirt on the other booths and clubs.”
I chew on my lower lip to stop my grin. “How do I know you won’t spread my intel around to all the parents.”
Yeah. I’m definitely flirting now.
“You can trust me,” David says.
And, so I tell him all about the clubs and the sundry pieces of gossip about various teachers. He listens and jokes, and the day passes by. In fact, it’s my favorite Spring Festival I’ve ever attended.
Chapter Fifteen
Once I get home to my apartment, I examine my cheeks in the mirror. I think I might have gotten a bit of sunburn. My dark skin looks a little rosy in places.
I place my hands against my cheeks. They’re warm.
Of course, it could be from all the blushing.
David stuck by my side for most of the festival. He wasn’t pushy or aggressive about it, but he was there.
He left for a bit so his daughters could show him the festival, but then he returned. He chatted with me and other parents, and then just with me again. He never crossed any lines, but I did catch a few mothers and teachers glancing at us with raised brows.
I can already hear them whispering: Of course the hot widower stuck by the young Miss. Ramirez all day, it’s obvious he has a thing for the pretty youthful teachers.
I don’t care though. I did nothing wrong, at the Spring Festival at least. I behaved with total decorum. I just didn’t push him away.
Because it was nice to spend time with him. It felt good.
I shouldn’t have felt easy, but it did. When the festival ended, and David said goodbye with his daughters, I wanted him to linger. I wanted to talk some more with David, and then when Amy told me they were all going to get pizza at their favorite place, I wanted to join.
I flop onto my bed and shake my head. They don’t belong to me. They’re not mine, they will never be mine. I shouldn’t even want them to be mine.
My phone pings with an alert. I grab it, hoping for a distraction, but my eyes widen when I see it’s an email from David.
I never gave him my cell number, but he always had my email. I open the missive right away and scan his sentences:
Hello Elena,
I had a good time today, and I know you asked me to back off, but I was wondering if you would be interested in grabbing a drink tonight?
Feel free to ignore, but if you’re interested, just let me know.
David
I sit straight up as my heart pounds. I should ignore it. I should close my email and pretend I never got this message.
I can’t ignore it though. I want to read it over and over and over. It’s so polite but clear. He had just as good of a time today as I did. And when I wanted to continue spending time with him, he did as well. That means something.
It feels as if my brain leaves my body, and I act without thinking. I type back a response saying I am interested, and I give him my cell so he can text me.
I hit send without even reading it over. That’s how much I want to see him again. When he’s not around, I can tell myself that I’m in control, but as soon as I’m subjected to his presence, my resolve turns to jelly. He
has this hold over me.
I roll my eyes at myself. I was so adamant about no second date last week. So much for that.
I stand up and pace around my studio. This time will be different. I know it’s a date. He knows it’s a date. We are both attracted to each other.
There are serious roadblocks however. And, if we don’t figure out how to deal with my role as Amy’s teacher, and his baggage as a single father, there’s going to be an issue.
I don’t want to just be this fling for David. I don’t want to be the younger woman he hooks up with now and then, in between his hospital shifts and his daughter’s play dates.
I’m not sure what I do want though. A serious relationship with David – it would be heavy. And, I’m not sure I’m even ready for a serious relationship full stop.
There’s just something about David. I hate to admit my friends could be right, but what if he is The One? My romanticism took a blow after Logan, but it didn’t evaporate. I still long to find my soulmate. I can’t spend the rest of my life wondering if I let Mr. Right slip through my fingers.
David texts me to suggest a local wine bar. He says the teenage daughter of his neighbor can babysit and put his kids to bed, so he can meet me around 8:30.
I agree.
Then I spend the next few hours wondering if I should change my outfit or no. The wine bar isn’t super fancy, so my flowy black pants and lace top are nice enough, but David already saw me in the outfit earlier. And what if he changes, but I don’t?
I’m overanalyzing the whole situation, especially since I know guys don’t think that much about a woman’s outfits, but I need something to mull over.
At last, I decide to stay in my outfit. It was working for me earlier at the festival after all. My hair was down all day, but I pile it on top of my head and secure it with a clip, but let a few curling black locks frame my face. Marianne once told me that I look like a mysterious Victorian lady with a dark secret when I wear my hair like that, and I have to agree with her.
I reapply some lipstick and mascara and decide I look adequate. I don’t want to be too early, so I spend thirty minutes trying to distract myself with surfing social media, but it doesn’t work.
