by Kata Čuić
Anne holds out her hand, where a smaller ring adorns her little finger. “Just so ya know, I already said yes.”
I smile at Jesse, all the love I bottled up for so many years pouring out of me. “Then how can I say no?”
He returns my love as he slides the ring on my finger before leaning in to kiss me. “Ya can’t.”
“Eew!” Anne shrieks. “Pappy! Daddy’s loving on Mommy again!”
A gruff voice responds from below. “She say yes?”
“Yeah,” Anne calls down.
“Good. Now get outta my house, so I can love on my wife again!”
Eight Months Ago
Ya come this far, Jesse Yates. Ya gotta start somewhere.
I knock a little too sharply on her classroom door. My hands are shakin’ so bad, it’s a miracle I can use ‘em at all. I walk through the open door, hopin’ against hope she’s left more than a door open for me. My knees give out when she glances up with her big green eyes, and I collapse onto the closest surface—a desk.
I ain’t looked on her beauty in person for so long. I couldn’t do it in front of the others. This job matters, and I can’t afford to jeopardize either of our contracts by doin’ or sayin’ anything inappropriate. As it is, my pants are gettin’ mighty tight. It’s been so long. I got no pride left, and I ache for her in ways I could never have imagined five years ago.
Havin’ her so close is far more torture than spendin’ long nights alone with her memory.
She takes my breath away. Her red hair catches the sunlight filterin’ in through the classroom windows. I curl my hands into fists, tryin’ in vain to assuage the urge to run my fingers through the soft strands, to tug on a fistful of her hair and get her to look me in the eyes. Her chest heaves on an unheard sigh. I can’t take my eyes away. My mouth waters. Has it really been five years since I sucked on those perfect breasts? Did she nurse our baby there, or did she feed her with a bottle?
I don’t know. Mr. Wheeler wouldn’t tell me.
She’s as elegant and classy now as she used to pretend to be back then. Dressed fine, her face painted, her hair curled, and heels on her feet that make her legs look a mile long—I’m sore relieved to see she didn’t give up on her dreams ‘cause of my mistake.
Even if it took her longer to get there than she wanted.
I drink up like a dyin’ man since I can’t satisfy my hunger by touchin’ her.
I don’t even know where we stand after five insufferable years.
Just ‘cause she didn’t find no one else to replace me don’t mean she still loves me neither.
That knowledge bores a hole into my brain. One wrong step now, and I might never get the chance to find out. “I have imagined this moment in so many different ways over the past five years, but now that it’s here…I don’t rightly know what to say.”
She nods but doesn’t offer me anything else about where her head’s at.
Sweat beads on my brow and trickles down my back. I roll up my sleeves to get more air. I done forgot how hot her fire can be, but it ain’t a smart idea to show her how eager I am to burn just yet.
Her heavy gaze lands on my left hand and stays there. Tongue-tied and spellbound by her mere presence, it takes me longer than it should to figure out what she’s searchin’ for.
I lift my hand, givin’ it up for her inspection.
Ain’t nothin’ there, darlin’. If ya never place a weddin’ band on my finger, then it’ll stay bare ‘til I die.
She casts her eyes to the ground, a furious blush stealing up her neck and settlin’ on her cheeks. I tamp down the laughter that’s scorchin’ up my lungs. Nora’s pride ain’t to be trifled with.
“I’m sorry,” she murmurs.
My heart stills in my chest. I suck in a lungful of air to make it work again. Now ain’t a good time to die.
Why is she sorry? Sorry for what?
Sorry I ain’t moved on with someone else? Sorry to see me again?
I’m drownin’ here without a life raft in sight.
She rises from her chair and brushes her long fingers down the front of her dress, beatin’ on my self-restraint even more. Her sweetness is so close, I can almost taste it. The scent of her hangs heavy in the air, curlin’ my tongue up inside my mouth.
“No sense making a mountain out of a molehill, right? The past is the past, but we both have jobs to do in the present. How can I help you, Mr. Yates?”
Her words cut me down, but there’s somethin’ else shinin’ in her eyes that keeps my dream alive. The smile on her face isn’t nearly the real one, but the fact she’s smilin’ at me at all is more than I ever hoped for.
I’ve gotten too far ahead of myself. I know right well this here’s a delicate situation. If I crash into her too hard and fast, she’ll only run for the hills again. “Ya could start by showin’ me around your room, I suppose.”
I keep a safe distance for us both as she leads me around. I force myself to be content to relish in the sound of her sweet voice rollin’ over my shoulders, softer and more comfortin’ than the old quilt she made me that’s draped over my bed at home.
Somethin’ sparkly catches my eye. Everythin’ about Nora’s classroom is ordered and in its right place, but this here glitter seems different. It’s too messy, too chaotic, too…childlike.
I reach out and touch the poster. As close as I’ve ever come to touchin’ my baby. I’ve seen her around town while I hid in the shadows just to catch a glimpse of her. Mr. Wheeler wouldn’t give me no pictures, so I’ve had to rely on my imagination all these years. Luckily for me, her mama taught me a thing or two about playin’ pretend. Anne though. Anne is so much more than I could have ever imagined. Full of fire like her mama, with her red hair to boot. She’ll stomp her foot and pout out her bottom lip and cross her arms over her chest when she don’t get her way. The only hint of me she possesses is a dimpled chin and a ratty, old teddy bear she don’t even know was a gift from her daddy to her mama.
Nora’s gaze rests heavily on my shoulders.
If I ain’t careful, I’m gonna give myself away. I force my arm to my side, tellin’ myself it won’t be for much longer. “Such pretty ornamentation for such tragic lives.”
“I have to interest my students somehow. If I at least make the boring stuff pretty, then hopefully they won’t find it so…boring.”
It ain’t like Nora to trip over her words so. She’s nervous. Anxiety rolls off her tense shoulders like a palpable entity in the room.
That shouldn’t make me as happy as it does, but I can feel her struggle to rein herself in—same as I’m fightin’ to hold back. “Ya never found the Brontës boring.”
This woman clean wore out multiple copies of Wuthering Heights. It’s her favorite book. Unless she’s found a new favorite in the past five years. I wouldn’t know.
“I do love a good tragedy,” she whispers.
Don’t I know it. Most days I feel like livin’ proof. “That ya do.”
Her gaze rests on my mouth, full of hunger. She darts her eyes to my left hand again. Her mouth pulls down slightly, but her eyes shine. It’s like she don’t even know she’s doin’ these things, and I’m bettin’ she’d be fit to be tied if she knew she was showin’ me so much without sayin’ a word.
“If there’s nothing else I can do for you, Mr. Yates, I’ll just get back to my preparations for the year.”
She moves to brush past me, but I reach out and hold her still. She gasps at my touch. I gotta know where we’re startin’ from ‘cause it sure as hell don’t feel like we’re startin’ from scratch.
I give in to my need for her and brush my lips against the shell of her ear—as close as I dare get to kissin’ sense back into her. “Is there anythin’ I can do for you, Miss Wheeler?”
Lord only knows what I’m willin’ to do to please this woman.
Her eyes are half-lidded, her pupils blown wide as she turns her breathtakin’ face to me. Her breasts heave with rapid breaths, and her pulse is a fl
utter beneath my fingers. “You can take your hand off of me, Mr. Yates.”
I don’t wanna let go, but I’m bound to. I can’t rightly tell if she’s still in flight mode. Five years has changed the both of us, and I wouldn’t respect her near as much as I do if she simply welcomed my sorry ass back with open arms. She’ll make me fight for her as much as she deserves, and I’m more than willin’ to oblige. “Should I be expectin’ ya to tender your resignation to me before the school year begins?”
She squares her shoulders and lifts her chin, facin’ me head-on with the same strong spirit she gave to our daughter. “Is that what you want?”
I want you. I want our baby. I want our life together that we imagined over and over and over again.
I ain’t about to say none of that out loud. I’ve worked too damn hard to blow up this second chance with my stubborn pride. Actions speak louder than words, and I’m gonna have to prove to her more than I can ever say. I shake my head.
For reasons still unknown to me—no matter how much I kid myself that I know this woman—my silence seems to shake loose somethin’ inside her.
“You aren’t supposed to be here,” she hisses. “If you want to do something for me, then you can leave. Tender your resignation, and just go.”
“I ain’t gonna do that.” These are the surest words I’ve uttered all day. If she runs now though, it’s gonna take however many more years to get to this point.
Our daughter’s already four—almost five—and I ain’t sure how much longer I can carry on without my Nora’s bright light. She’s tryin’ to hide her love, but I feel it as strongly as I ever have. She’s only ever wanted the best for me, and I’d be a fool to pretend it ain’t gonna take some time to prove to her she’s it.
Tears spring into her eyes, and her breasts jerk as her breath hitches.
I step back, allowin’ her the space to compose herself. Nothin’ good has ever come from puttin’ my pride before hers. “I will, however, do whatever it takes to make ya comfortable with my unexpected presence here. I have no doubt you’re a fine teacher, and I can’t afford to lose good staff.”
Her eyes are full of gratitude. “You’ll find I take my job very seriously. I’ll be a consummate professional in this building.”
Finally, her words and her actions align. She needs this from me for now. If I want to consummate our marriage bed, then I’m gonna have to back down. I stuff my hands in my pockets, so I won’t make the mistake of reachin’ for her again. “Well, then.” I allow myself a single bracin’ breath. “Reckon I’ll let ya get to it.”
“Thank you, Mr. Yates. Have a nice rest of your day.”
Her exhale of relief signals it’s time for me to leave her be. My Nora’s never responded well with her back against the wall.
There is one thing I can’t leave unsaid. “For what it’s worth…I’m sorry, too, Lenore.”
Sorry my actions drove us to this place.
I wish I could say that was the only night I let my selfish desires rule my mind, but that’s a lie. The very first night I took her for myself, I did so out of want rather than what was best for her. I stole her light so many times under the guise of doin’ what was right by her, but it never was. I was doin’ right by myself, and lyin’ to her face the whole time. I’d like to think that if Kenny had stolen her heart, I’d have let her go, but that’s a lie, too. I would’ve fought tooth and nail to keep her. I didn’t understand as a green boy that fightin’ for her might mean lettin’ her go for a time.
Mrs. Parsons raises her eyebrows at me behind her glasses when I walk into the main office. “How’d it go?”
“About like ya’d expect,” I admit. “Can’t rightly make up for five years of silence in only a few minutes.”
She nods and hums in the back of her throat. Unlike Nora, Mrs. Parsons always takes her time to think before she speaks.
For as many times as I sat in this office—in trouble for one thing or another—I got to know the principal’s secretary real well. She became a kindred spirit—one of the few people in town besides Nora who saw my potential rather than my myriad of failures.
“Slow and steady wins the race, Jesse,” she finally says. “I’m right proud that ya recognize ya can’t make up for all the lost time in a single day. Keep your eyes on the prize. If ya want a part in your baby girl’s life, then you’re gonna have to prove yourself worthy of the privilege.”
She places her hand in mine when I offer my upright palm, squeezing me in solidarity for a plan a select few folks in town know about.
“Are ya sure I can’t convince ya to stay on for a few more years? Lord knows I’m gonna need all the help I can get.”
She huffs an indignant laugh. “Principal Yates, I am sixty-eight years old. I have more than put in my time in this office. When ya get to be my age, you’ll understand wantin’ to spend your witherin’ time with your grandbabies instead of slavin’ away for young bucks with stars in their eyes.”
“From your lips to God’s ears,” I whisper conspiratorially.
She leans over her desk and whispers in return, “’Course I ain’t never had the privilege of workin’ for a man worthy of my time. I reckon you’ll do things for this school your predecessor never even dreamed of.”
The weight of her confession hangs in the air between us. The man who’s shoes I’m fillin’ had dreams all right. Horrible, violent fantasies that still play behind my eyeballs when I’m tryin’ to sleep without Nora by my side to cast a soft light on all my nightmares.
Like she instinctively knows I’m driftin’ toward that dark place, Mrs. Parsons straightens up. “Ya got a guest waitin’ in your office, Mr. Yates.”
She don’t bother answerin’ my questionin’ glance, simply goes back to clackin’ away on her keyboard that’s so old, it bears her fingerprints.
Like the universe just loves to remind me of my shortcomings, Kenny’s waiting in my office when I step in. His feet are propped up on my desk, but at least he’s not sittin’ in my chair. He tosses a football up and down in his hands like he’s got all the time in the world.
“Ain’t ya supposed to be at work?” I grab the football from him, mid-air, and place it back on the shelf behind me. It’s one of the few mementoes of excellence our school has from the year he led our team to the state playoffs. Such a rare occurrence, we don’t even have a trophy case in the lobby like the high school in Bluefield does.
He checks his watch. “Not for another hour. Thought I’d drop by and see how it went.”
“Shitty,” I admit. I don’t have to censor my rough speech for him none. Our friendship is built around the rougher things in life.
“She gonna run?”
“Not if I play my cards right.”
He pulls his feet down and props his arms on the desk, leanin’ forward with his brows raised. “You’re outta time to come up with a solid play. What’s the deck look like?”
“Stacked against me. Same as it’s ever been.”
He scoffs then relaxes back in his chair. “Ain’t gonna give up though, are ya?”
“Ain’t never could do nothin’.” I grin at him.
Epilogue
As I Live and Breathe
“Mr. Yates!” My secretary bangs on my closed office door. “Ya better get out here!”
“I gotta go, Mitch. Mrs. Parsons’s fit to be tied about somethin’.”
The superintendent chuckles. “The board accepted her retirement request. I’ve got employment ads out in several locations. You can do the interviews by phone.”
I stand and slip on my jacket while cradling said phone against my shoulder. “Does that mean they also accepted my leave request?”
“It does,” he confirms. “We’ve got a substitute coming in from Teach for America. Mr. Sayre agreed to take the lead during that time. They’re giving you four weeks.”
Four weeks. I collapse onto my desk chair, nearly missing it and hitting the floor.
“T-thank you,” I stutt
er. No words can do my gratitude justice.
“Mind if I stop over in the meantime?”
“Not at all. You’re always welcome in our home.”
Nora’ll probably kill me for agreein’ to that request, but I’m not about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Mitch has gone above and beyond for us. The very least we can do is serve him supper.
“Take care and keep me posted.” He hangs up.
I take a bracing breath before facing whatever mayhem waits on the other side of my office door. Anne smiles at me from my desk, her toothless grin picture-perfect in her kindergarten graduation cap and gown.
Somehow, I just know I’m gonna be home late tonight. I open the door to find out just how late.
Mrs. Parsons taps her foot and glares at me. “What took ya so long?”
I straighten my tie. “I was on the phone with the superintendent. I’m not in the habit of hanging up on my boss.”
She scoffs. “Didn’t anyone ever teach ya men that babies don’t keep?”
“What?” I yell.
I tear out of my office with my heart in my throat.
“Mrs. Yates is leakin’!” Chester shouts, supportin’ my wife as she waddles down the stairs from her second-floor classroom because someone is still willful to a fault and insisted on workin’ until she delivered. Sure enough, she’s leavin’ a trail behind her like a slug.
“I’m not leakin’,” she grits. “My water done broke.”
I race over to ‘em but stop short of puttin’ my hands on her. “Whaddya need, darlin’?”
“Need ya to get me home,” she pants.
“Are ya sure?”
She gives me the look. Sweat’s beadin’ on her brow, and her jaw ticks as she clenches her teeth. Her voice comes out dangerously low. “If I bear our baby in this high school, Jesse Yates, I will never forgive ya.”
Point made. Home, it is.
I take over supporting her weight. “Chester, go into the office and tell Mrs. Parsons to fetch the janitor.”
He beams, following along beside us as we hobble toward the front exit. “Oh, we all pitched in. Everyone in class grabbed paper towels. We’re on it.”
