Twelve Truths and a Lie

by Christina Lee

  31

  Cameron

  I sat in my classroom after school, staring off into space, when I should’ve been prepping for the following day. Sandy had washed all the boards, wrote the date and word of the week with bright yellow chalk for tomorrow’s lesson and had already gone home.

  It was Wednesday, I had Darius’s expulsion hearing tomorrow, and I couldn’t get Aurora out of my head. When was the last time I simply enjoyed somebody else’s body that way, without actual penetration as the end result?

  It was always so passionate with her, and I felt like I could say and do anything. Be my complete self whenever I was with her. There was something intoxicating about that. And it made the idea of my moving away an even starker reality.

  I had texted Aurora to check on her a couple of days in a row after that night. Especially since the case was also all over the news. They had released the perpetrator’s name but not the victim’s because she was still a minor and the details shared with the public were fucking awful and had hit too close to home.

  Aurora was over her initial shock and was working with her agency to establish better safety measures for social workers out in the community, especially if they were dealing with a sensitive situation.

  My mom, who inquired about Aurora frequently, had given me the name of a new smart phone app she had installed that could track your location in the case of an emergency.

  I had shared the information with Aurora, who said to tell my mom thanks, and she promised to show it to her supervisor, as well as download it immediately.

  Fact was, in jobs like ours, life went on, and there were always other kids under our care who needed our help and attention. You never knew when another dangerous situation might present itself.

  I stood up to place handouts on each student’s desk, along with a freshly sharpened pencil, which I provided regularly, since most of my kids couldn’t afford school supplies.

  My phone buzzed with a text, and when I fished my cell out of my pocket, I saw that it was Aurora.

  Aurora: I am going to be calling you shortly—in a professional manner—if you can fit us in.

  Me: Us?

  Aurora: Darius will be in my office and he’d like to speak with you.

  Me: Okay. Sounds good.

  My stomach throbbed wondering what Darius would have to say. I thought about him a lot over the past few days, always hoping for the best-case scenario.

  My phone rang a few minutes later.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi, Mr. Miller,” Aurora said in a professional tone. “I have Darius here in my office, and he’d like to say some things to you. I’m going to put you on speakerphone.”

  I heard some initial phone static as she pushed some buttons and then maneuvered her phone around. Then I heard her murmuring some encouraging words to Darius, who must’ve been nervous about talking to me.

  “Hi, Mr. Miller,” he said in a tentative voice.

  “Darius, it’s great to hear your voice,” I said. “The class misses you.”

  Shit, I didn’t know if that was the right thing to say. But it was true, so I went with honesty.

  I heard Aurora prompting him to speak truthfully, from the heart. Then I heard paper rustling.

  “Darius has been recording a lot in his journal since the incident in your classroom,” Aurora said. “And he recently allowed me to read a portion of it…” I heard the wonder in her voice and imagined it must’ve been a huge breakthrough for Darius to share his feelings with her. Every time I had inquired about his well-being, she told me he wouldn’t speak about the incident to anybody.

  “I…” she continued. “We thought it was important for Darius to tell you a couple of things.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “I’d love to hear what you have to say.”

  “I wanted to tell you how sorry I am for what I did,” Darius said, his voice heavy across the line, and I imagined his pulse pitching as sharply as mine.

  “I accept your apology,” I said rather easily, especially since I could hear the sincerity in his voice. “You…really took me by surprise that day.”

  Aurora seemed to be whispering to him now. I played with the paperweight on my desk as I waited on them, trying to give my fingers something to do.

  “I know I was totally wrong,” he said, clearing his throat. “But I didn’t mean…I didn’t want to punch you. What I’m saying is…darn…when you grabbed me from behind like that…you were…it felt like you were choking me.”

  I stood up, my chair clattering back. “Excuse me?”

  “My…my hoodie?” he said as if in question form. “You grabbed hold of me to take me back to my seat and the collar, where the drawstring was? It was cutting at my throat and…I couldn’t talk.”

  My lungs seized up as I attempted to remember the scenario. I had gone over it so many times in my head, it felt all jumbled up. I did grip him at the shoulder in my haste to resolve the situation before my two students started a fist fight.

  “So I was trying to get you to loosen your hold on the jacket,” he said. “I didn’t know what else to do. It felt like no words would come out of my throat.”

  Thinking back to the situation, his arms had been swinging around wildly. Fuck.

  “Oh my God,” I said, the words slipping out. “I had no idea.”

  Then Aurora’s voice. “Darius knows he had no right to hit you. He also knows that had you not intervened he would’ve done something stupid to jeopardize his status at school. He might’ve placed himself in this situation anyway.”

  “Oh…Christ,” I said, completely flustered, my cheeks enflamed, as I paced around the room.

  “I would never intentionally hurt you, Mr. Miller,” Darius said. “I respect you, you’re my favorite teacher.”

  And then he broke down in tears, and I felt my own eyes watering. Aurora filled in the silence while we both got ourselves together. “Darius finally told me and his mom this information yesterday. He figured no adults would believe him, so he just clammed up.”

  “I loved your class.” Darius’s sniffling voice was heard on the line again. “I was really off that day. My mom didn’t refill my meds—I know that’s no excuse—but my brain was really messed up and my thoughts were racing all over the place.”

  It was just as I had suspected about the medication, but he seemed pretty rational right now. I’d never heard Darius say so many words in a row. His therapy with Aurora had been good for him.

  “I really appreciate you calling me and telling me all of this,” I said. “I never meant to hurt you. I hope you believe me.”

  “I know. You wouldn’t do that,” Darius’s voice was soft now, almost small. “Not like my dad.”

  “Never, ever,” I said, with a giant lump in my throat. “You are a great kid. I’m sorry, Darius.”

  “Me, too.”

  Aurora’s voice. “We’ll see you at the hearing tomorrow.”

  I already knew that I would lie awake for weeks thinking about my own actions in this situation. Our district would be following the lead of other school systems across the country in banning hoodies once the policy was written and set in stone.

  My principal would use this scenario as an example of how the jacket created a certain persona in the community and had too many pockets for hiding things, even though the kids walked through a metal detector every day.

  But in this case my own actions had come into play. And I needed to do something to fix this. To help Darius feel like he could succeed. Somebody needed to elevate marginalized voices, and tomorrow it was going to be me.

  I texted Aurora a thank you before falling asleep that night. She was always just a hairsbreadth away from my thoughts.

  The following morning, I wore what I called my lucky red tie and felt different teaching, as if I was seeing my role through new eyes. I could tell my assistant was on the same page.

  I had met with my principal and Sandy before school to let them both know what my conversa
tion with Darius had been and to come up with a proactive plan for the school board meeting.

  “I trust your instincts,” my principal had told me. “And I know you’re wracked with guilt about this, because that’s the kind of person you are. But we can all do better. So let’s make our ideas come to fruition.”

  After I walked my kids out the door, I drove over to the administration building a few blocks away.

  When I saw Darius standing in the hallway beside Aurora and his mother, my heart lodged firmly in my throat. But then Darius hugged me and his mom smiled.

  She could’ve been angry. She could’ve lashed out at me.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, wearing my heart on my sleeve.

  She shook her head. “I messed up, too. Too many times to count.”

  “You have the hardest job in the universe,” I said and she grinned.

  “That’s about right,” she said, allowing her weariness to show on her face. “But yours isn’t far behind.”

  She patted my arm, and it felt like we had met on a bridge and would finally cross over it together.

  When the administration called us, we walked into the hearing and jointly faced the board.

  They reviewed the case, Darius’s history of fights and suspensions, leading up to his enrollment in my classroom this year. Darius explained what happened, his hands and voice shaking, his mom and Aurora lending their support.

  When they gave me an opportunity to speak, I stepped before them and let them know exactly what I was thinking.

  “Until the incident, Darius has been a positive influence in the classroom. The kids looked to him as a leader. I’d really like the opportunity to teach him again,” I said, and I heard Darius inhale abruptly behind me. “He was off his meds that day and not exactly in the right frame of mind. I stepped in to handle the situation on pure instinct. We all could have done things differently. We can all improve.”

  I looked at the bench over my shoulder and met Darius’s eyes. His mother smiled and nodded in my direction. I didn’t make eye contact with Aurora because I didn’t want to get sidetracked, but her presence in the room was monumental to me.

  “With my principal’s blessing, I’ll be heading up a workshop one weekend in May with other intervention specialists across the district to discuss and share ideas with this circumstance in mind,” I said. “So that it’s not just about banning hoodies. It’s about why we, teachers and staff included, had to come to such a decision in the first place.”

  One board member nodded at me to continue. Another was taking copious amounts of notes, seeming pleased with my idea.

  “In the meantime, I’m positive we can come up with a plan. To increase communication between school and home, and between myself and Darius, when he’s having an off day.”

  “Darius?” one of the board members addressed him. “Are you willing to work cooperatively with Mr. Miller?”

  “Yes.” He cleared his throat. “For sure.”

  “If we all put in extra effort,” I said, “we can get him through this school year.”

  The board agreed unanimously, and as I watched Darius and his mom walk toward the exit, the relief evident on their faces was identical to my own. Aurora turned to me with a wave goodbye and a dazzling smile that lit my insides on fire.

  32

  Aurora

  What Cameron said and did in that board meeting, as well as owning up to his own mistakes, made pride swell in my chest. And made him that much more attractive. It was getting harder to deny my overwhelming feelings for him, but I also didn’t want to be the reason he couldn’t take a job that he desperately needed.

  My Friday felt lighter and that was good because I figured I was owed a little break. Cameron had to cancel our meeting tonight, due to some fundraiser shindig he was attending with Maddie. Maddie’s company was sponsoring the event, and the tickets had been purchased weeks ago. It surprised me that his roommate wasn’t taking a date, but Cameron said that Maddie had been staying home a lot more recently.

  I was happy that I’d still be seeing Cameron on Sunday at the twins’ birthday party in Nicole and Michael’s back yard. He was tagging along with Maddie and joked by text that he would simply slip the twins money in an envelope and call it a day, since ten years down the road that’s all they’d want anyway.

  Cameron also teased about my one-year anniversary, which was fast approaching, pointing out that the Chastity Club needed to do something to celebrate. I could think of a few ideas that did not involve Richard—or maybe it did—but I kept those thoughts to myself.

  On Saturday morning, I cleaned my apartment and then went to yoga class. During the meditation portion, instead of clearing my mind like I was supposed to, I contemplated the past three hundred sixty or so days in my life. How I felt more like myself than I ever had before.

  I hoped my mom was up there somewhere smiling down on me for getting the part right that she never seemed to be able to. She had been a good mom but had introduced us to some real duds.

  Raised in foster care, she had always seemed to be searching for something. Maybe if she had taken the opportunity to listen to that quiet part of herself, she would’ve realized that she had already created something special—a loving family of three. That in itself was a pretty great accomplishment.

  Over the low and soothing drone of the yoga instructor, I considered my own triumphs. I had probably learned at least one new truth about the woman I’d become for every single month that passed this year. Mostly that I was a brave, empathic, and strong person.

  I could take care of myself, and I had a pretty good aim, if my reining darts championship held any merit. If I ended up solo, I would most definitely be fine, as long as I had my friends, my Netflix, my Richard, and a bag of salt and vinegar potato chips by my side.

  I also learned that I did, in fact, hate avocados because the texture was squishy and no future health-conscience boyfriend would be able to talk me into the benefits again.

  Yet, in the middle of those twelve revealing truths for every month of the year was one bald-faced lie that continued to niggle away at me. The fact that I was lonely—and probably always had been—even through my string of endless boyfriends.

  In fact, I ached with loneliness, even now. Because a warm body did not equate to a warm soul.

  And only one person had ever succeeded in reaching and fulfilling that very part of me—of really seeing me and accepting me for who I am. And liking me in spite of it.

  Cameron had burrowed himself beneath my skin, and the very idea of being with him and caring that much for somebody frightened me in a way I had never experienced before. I did not want to get absorbed in another person and lose the best parts of myself again.

  But what terrified me even more was the idea of losing him—any part of him, most of all his friendship—for good. If I could keep any small portion of him close, my heart would be happy.

  That afternoon, I dragged Sydney to the larger than life toy store with me to get a gift from both of us for the twins. If Nicole hadn’t told me what to buy, I would’ve been completely lost in the world of annoying squeaky sounds and bursts of bold colors when we walked through the door.

  In the middle of one of the aisles, I noticed that Sydney was no longer beside me, so I backtracked and I found her in the baby section. She was running her fingers along books and crib railings and blankets, the display no doubt meant to evoke a warm and cozy vision for a nursery.

  It was totally endearing watching my friend and yet completely crazy pants all rolled into one. But something about the way she was gripping her stomach seemed off.

  “You okay?” I asked, placing my hand on the small of her back.

  “I will be.” She was holding a Dr. Seuss book as she turned her watery eyes to me. “I lost the baby last night.”

  “You had a miscarriage?” I squeaked out, having difficulty keeping my voice down. I clutched a fuzzy pink elephant to my chest. “Oh God, honey. Why didn’t you�
��”

  “I was at my mom’s house and I woke her up when I started bleeding,” she explained, taking a shuddering breath. “She walked me through it, and then I called my doctor this morning.”

  “Thank God.” Just as we’d predicted, Sydney’s mom was totally supportive of her on every level. I felt a pang in my chest hoping my mom would’ve done the same for me.

  “Plus, Nicole has lost two, so I called her before you picked me up to ask her about it,” she said. “I’m totally relieved but also sort of sad at the same time…sounds ridiculous, I know.”

  “Not at all,” I replied, pushing her bangs out of her eyes. “You were probably starting to get used to the idea.”

  Plus, her emotions had been all over the map recently. She’d call crying one minute and laughing the next. Nicole had explained how very normal that was, given all the new hormones coursing through her body.

  “I definitely was, even though I was terrified,” she said, her cheeks flushed a rosy pink. “And I think…I think I’m still going to tell Maddie. He deserves to have that information.”

  My heart beat a crazy rendition, wondering what would become of that. What would Maddie say or do? The suspense was killing me where those two were concerned, but they needed to hash it out themselves and these things took time. Life in general took time. Except for those chance seconds that seemed to happen at warp speed.

  “At least Nicole can help you figure out all the lady bits stuff,” I said, scrunching my nose as I reached for some breast pump contraption. “And then there’s me, who will attach herself to your side to make sure you don’t feel alone.”

  She tugged me into her arms and sniffled against my shoulder. “Thank you.”

  I smoothed a stray strand of hair behind her ear and then tugged on her arm toward the preschool section.

  “Let’s go get our adopted nieces some cool toys,” I said. “Preferably ones that aren’t pink.”

  33