by Ford, Mia
Angela heaved a large sigh. “What are you gonna do?”
I bit my lip and sniffled. “I have no idea,” I said quietly. “When I think of something, I’ll let you know.”
Chapter Fifteen
June
On Monday, Angela had to go back to work. I wish I could say that I was starting to feel better about my whole situation, but the truth was that I was feeling more depressed than ever before. Day after day passed by where I did nothing but sit on the couch and flip through old shows, and I was starting to wonder if I shouldn’t be spending my time by looking for a job. But every time I pulled up my laptop and started working on my resume, I just felt guilty and sad. I couldn’t believe that my lifelong goal of teaching had barely lasted for more than a year.
Thursday morning, just as I was settling down on the couch with some leftover pizza and a bad romantic comedy, my phone buzzed on the end table. My hand was shaking as I picked it up.
“Hello?”
“Hello, may I please speak with June Rogers?”
“This is she.”
“June, this is Anne Marie, one of the sectaries at P.S.151. How are you?”
“Um, I’m fine.” My cheeks flamed bright red and I bit my lip.
“Good. I was hoping you could come in this afternoon for a small meeting – just myself, you, and Principal Morris.”
Oh, shit , I thought. It’s finally happening. They’re going to hand me a pink slip and then it’s all over .
“Okay,” I said nervously.
“June, could you be here in an hour?”
I nodded. “Yes.”
“Good. Thanks so much for your cooperation, I really appreciate it. See you soon.”
I hung up and sprang off the couch, knocking my pizza onto the floor. I stared at it for a moment, debating whether or not to clean it up. They’re going to fire me , I thought. It doesn’t matter. I’ll still be home before Angela . I can just clean it up then. Or who knows – maybe I can just eat it, because I’ll be feeling so miserable that I won’t be able to stand myself .
I shuddered and darted into my room. Tugging on a knit dress, I added tights, boots, and a swipe of coral lipstick. My hair was a greasy tangle but I picked it apart as best I could, using some of Angela’s dry shampoo and combing it into a chignon.
Downstairs, I hailed a cab. It made me nervous to be spending that kind of money today – after all, now that I was about to be officially fired, I wouldn’t really have any play money for a while. Or any money , I realized bleakly.
The cab halted to a stop in front of P.S.151 and I gave the driver the biggest tip I could without overspending. Then I ran up the stairs, for what I knew would be my last time walking through the front doors.
The front office was quiet – it was the middle of the day, and I figured most of the kids were at lunch. Anne Marie stood up and smiled when she saw me.
“June, right on time. If you wouldn’t mind coming with me,” she said, leading the way into Principal Morris’s office.
I gulped. “Here goes nothing,” I muttered under my breath. “I just hope I don’t cry.”
Principal Morris was seated behind his desk, looking more regal and walrus-like than ever before. This time, his attention was clearly focused on Anne Marie. When I walked in and sat down, he smiled.
“June, I’m so glad you could make it out,” Principal Morris said. “This is something we’ve been meaning to discuss with you for a few days, but I wanted to be sure that everything was right on track.”
I swallowed nervously. “Just get it over with,” I said.
“What?”
“I know you’re going to fire me,” I said miserably. “I know that’s what’s going to happen. Just, please – do it quickly. Please don’t humiliate me.”
Anne Marie and Principal Morris exchanged an odd glance.
“June, we’re not going to fire you.”
“What?”
Anne Marie laughed nervously. “No. We’re here to ask you back, and we’re going to pay you for your time off, too.”
“What…why?”
“June, you’re a very good teacher,” Principal Morris said gently. “Your class seems to love you. Ruth, your assistant, speaks very highly of you.”
“But…but…what about Andy?”
Annie Marie and Principal Morris glanced at each other again, this time less warmly.
“Andrew Lipinski has been fired, immediately,” Anne Marie said. “We’ve decided to file charges against him.” She pursed her lips. “There’s just one problem.”
I narrowed my eyes. “What? What’s going on?”
Principal Morris cleared his throat. “We haven’t been able to locate Andrew,” he said. “Neither have the police.”
I rolled my eyes. “I doubt they’re looking very hard.” I bit my lip, wondering if I should mention anything about the encounter in the alley, or the weird burned dolls. In the end, I decided it was for the best if I didn’t mention any “drama” that had taken place outside of school.
“Well, as soon as we find him, he’ll be arrested.”
I bit my lip. My head was a confusing swirl of emotions and I had no idea what I was supposed to say.
“I…I can’t believe you’re not firing me,” I said quietly.
“We had no intention of firing you at all,” Principal Morris replied. “June, I’m very sorry for the stress we’ve caused you. But I promise – this was just a procedural thing.”
I nodded. “Well, thank you very much.”
“So, will you come back?”
My eyes filled with tears and I nodded happily. “Oh, yes,” I said quickly. “I can’t wait.”
“Good,” Principal Morris replied. “Why not take tomorrow off and come in on Monday?”
“Sounds good.” I sniffled, wiping my nose on my hand. “Thank you.”
I left P.S.151 before I could start crying for real, but as soon as I was outside, the truth hit me and I shrieked, jumping up and down. I didn’t even care that I was in public – I didn’t care who saw me, as long as they knew how happy I was.
“I didn’t get fired!” I shrieked, dancing around in a little circle. I’d practically skipped all the way to the subway station before I remembered Thomas and Angela. Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I called Thomas immediately.
“Thomas, I didn’t get fired. I didn’t lose my job! They asked me to come in and told me they wanted me to come back!”
“June, congratulations,” Thomas said. He sounded far-away, distant.
“Can we celebrate?” I was still jumping up and down for joy.
“Sure. Are you free tomorrow night?”
“Oh, yes,” I said happily.
“Good.” Thomas gave me the name of a new Spanish restaurant, and told me to meet him at seven-thirty the next evening. By the time we hung up, I was positively beaming.
When I got home, I texted Angela. She left work early and burst into the apartment with a cheap sheet cake and a bottle of Prosecco.
“I know I shouldn’t be splurging, but I’m so happy for you!” Angela pulled me into a tight hug. “Girl, this is the best news ever!”
“I know,” I gushed. “I can’t believe it. I just feel so good!”
Angela grinned. “I knew you had things under control,” she said. She poured me a glass of the sparkling wine and we toasted to ‘new things.’
“When I told Thomas, he didn’t seem too happy,” I said. I frowned and bit my lip.
“Oh, June, you know him – he was probably just really busy at work,” Angela said. “Give it time – I’m sure he’ll be thrilled when he sees you tomorrow.” She raised an eyebrow. “Just don’t come back here. I’m going to be here all night.”
I blushed hotly. “No way,” I said. I grinned. “But I can’t wait to sleep with him again.”
Angela laughed. “Girl, you’re too much,” she said.
We spent all of Thursday night celebrating. Friday, I slept in, hoping to get rid of my
hangover before my date with Thomas. By now, I was barely nervous – we’d been out together so many times that I was expecting something really special.
Aguilar didn’t disappoint. I was floored at the beautiful display inside the lobby – a fountain made entirely of glass mosaic. The water splashed and flowed over gorgeously vibrant tiles.
“Senorita is enjoying our fountain, yes?”
I blushed and turned around to see a young, handsome maître d.
“Yes, it’s lovely,” I said. “I’m here a little early – I’m meeting Thomas March at seven-thirty.”
The maître d nodded. “Mr. March has not yet joined us,” he said. “But would you like to be seated?”
I nodded and nervously followed the maître d through the beautiful restaurant. The brightly colored tables were filled with all kinds of expensive looking couples, and I wondered what kind of delicious wine Thomas would order for us when he arrived.
“I’ll send a complimentary glass of sangria over to you,” the maître d said. He bowed deeply and I blushed.
Am I supposed to tip him or something , I wondered. But thankfully, he turned on his heel and walked away before I felt too awkward.
Seconds later, a glass of red sangria was brought to the table. I sipped it and thanked the waiter before starting to glance through the menu. Thankfully, it was printed in both English and Spanish. But by the time I’d read the whole thing, cover to cover, there was still no sign of Thomas.
I frowned. It was quarter to eight. When I checked my phone, there was no text or call. He’s probably stuck in traffic , I thought. And I’m sure he doesn’t want to get into an accident by texting. Maybe his Porsche is repaired and he’s still waiting .
Another ten minutes passed and there was still no sign of my date. Frustrated, I pulled out my phone and texted him: “Hey, everything okay?”
No response.
When the waiter came back for my empty glass, I was embarrassed. I picked a cheap appetizer on the menu – and at eighteen dollars for three seared scallops, it wasn’t very cheap – and told the waiter that I was still waiting on Thomas to show.
Fifteen minutes later, just as I was finishing my scallops, Thomas arrived. He looked flushed and out of breath, and he sat down hard without looking at me or greeting me.
“Hi,” I said cautiously. “Is everything okay?”
Thomas didn’t respond. He started digging through his pockets. After a few seconds of irritated silence, he pulled out his phone and pressed angrily at the screen.
I sat there, feeling like a fool. Thankfully, the waiter chose that exact moment to come up to the table.
“Good evening, sir,” the waiter said. “Would you like to see a wine list?”
“No,” Thomas said shortly. “Just bring us anything aged on oak, from the late nineties.”
“Yes, sir,” the waiter said. “Have you had a chance to look at the menu?”
Thomas glanced up and looked at me, as if seeing me for the first time. “No,” he said. “June, have you gotten a chance to look?”
I nodded mutely.
“Just ask her,” Thomas said. “June, pick something with seafood,” he said. “And I want ceviche as an appetizer.”
“Yes, sir,” the waiter noted. He turned to me and I began to sweat. My cheeks flushed as I fumbled with the menu.
“Um, can I have the gamba…gambas de…ai-aye-oh?”
“Yes, the shrimp with garlic,” the waiter said smoothly. “Very good choice. I’ll bring two dinners.”
“Thank you.” I blushed hotly, ashamed of my mistake. I really need to learn basic French and Spanish pronunciation , I realized. That is, if I’m going to keep dating Thomas .
As soon as the waiter was gone, Thomas sighed and took a long drink of water.
“You okay?” I asked nervously.
Thomas glared at me. “No.”
“What’s wrong?”
Thomas sighed. “June, you should really brush up on your foreign pronunciation,” he said. “If we keep going places, it’s best to know all of the dishes by name.”
My blush deepened to a painful red. “I know,” I whispered. “I’m sorry. I was expecting you to order for us – you usually do that.”
Thomas sighed forcefully, as if I’d somehow just him desperately uncomfortable with my comment.
“Normally I’ve had a better day at work,” Thomas said. The waiter brought a bottle of white wine and poured a taste for Thomas. This time, Thomas didn’t even bother sniffing and swirling the wine around in his glass. He poured two generous glasses and handed one to me.
“Thank you,” I whispered shyly.
The waiter beamed, as if he had no idea of the tension at the table. “The shrimp will be out soon,” he said.
As soon as he’d walked off, Thomas glared. “Why didn’t you ask him about the ceviche?”
“I’m sorry,” I said quickly. “I forgot – I’m really sorry, I’ll grab him the next time he passes by.”
“Forget it,” Thomas said sourly. “That kind of behavior isn’t really acceptable at places like these.”
I swallowed and licked my lips. I wasn’t sure what was wrong, but suddenly Thomas had gone from my own personal Dr. Jekyll to Mr. Hyde.
“Thank you for taking me to dinner,” I said quietly.
“Oh, yeah,” Thomas said. “Well, I’m glad to hear you weren’t fired.”
I nodded and held my breath. The restaurant was filled with delicious, tempting aromas…but I felt sick to my stomach. It felt like being trapped a bad dream. I’d never seen this side of Thomas before – what exactly was he trying to tell me?
“Um, Thomas?”
“Yeah?”
“Are you angry with me?” I gnawed at my lip. “You’re just acting different.”
“I had a bad day.”
“Well, please don’t take it out on me,” I said gently. “If this is too much for right now, let me know. I’ll go hope and we can get together when you’re feeling better.”
“You wanted to go out tonight.”
I tried not to sigh in exasperation. Thomas was acting like a child!
“I know,” I said gently. “But I assumed that if you weren’t in the mood, you would’ve said something.” I bit my lip, wondering what could have possibly happened to upset Thomas so much.
“And here we are with the shrimp!” The waiter set two sizzling skillets in front of us, loaded with fat shrimp and garlic cloves. They smelled delicious but my stomach flipped and turned.
“Thanks,” I said quietly. The waiter tried to catch Thomas’s eye, but Thomas was staring down at the food with surprising intensity. After a few seconds of silence, the waiter left.
“Well, they fucking forgot my ceviche and you didn’t say anything,” Thomas growled.
I stared at him. “You’re kidding,” I said slowly. “You told me not to say anything! You said that behavior wasn’t appropriate at a place like this!”
Thomas sighed heavily, as if he were dealing with a small child. “No, June,” he said sarcastically. “I told you not to flag the waiter down. That isn’t acceptable behavior. But it’s perfect correct to ask if the waiter is already here.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Forgive me,” I said. “I didn’t know.” I bit my lip. The shrimp continued to sizzle and smoke in front of me. I couldn’t tell if my eyes were watering due to the smoke or because I was about to cry.
“Well, now you do,” Thomas said icily.
“Are you sure you don’t want to talk about what’s bothering you?” I asked gently, reaching out and putting a hand on Thomas’s arm. “I’d be more than happy to listen to you, Thomas.”
“June, I told you!” Thomas thundered angrily. I gasped – some of the other people nearby looked up and flushed. “You wouldn’t understand.”
My chin began to wobble and tears dripped down my face. I reached for my napkin and put it on the table, next to my untouched garlic shrimp.
“Fine,” I said in a shaky
voice. “You obviously don’t want my company right now. Enjoy your shrimp, Thomas.”
Before he could reply, I turned on my heel and stalked out of the restaurant. Tears were flooding my vision and I stumbled and ran as fast as I could. It’s funny, I thought bitterly. I’ve finally gotten used to wearing heels, just when Thomas decided he was sick of me .
