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She hadn’t even taken time off from her other two jobs after being attacked. I knew this because I walked into the hardware store to pick up a can of paint and nearly came out of my skin when I saw her up on a ladder stocking shelves the very next day. The girl was either the most hard-headed person I had ever met in my life, or there was something else going on.
Before I had a chance to set my phone down to finish getting ready for the day, it beeped again with another incoming message.
Dad: I’m getting a little tired of your obstinance, Emory. Answer my messages.
Sick of his blustering, I rolled my eyes and once again hit delete. Between emails and texts, he’d been blowing up my phone for over a week. The damn rally was still a month away, so I had no idea what his major malfunction was. No, actually I did. Anthony Daubson did not like to be ignored.
I finished dressing and moved to my nightstand. Twisting the cap off the prescription bottle of Topamax, I plucked out one capsule, then went to the kitchen to mix it into a cup of yogurt, thankful I didn’t have to swallow the large capsule.
I’d been taking medication since college, when a particularly nasty migraine landed me in the emergency room. My roommate at the time freaked out and called 911 when she’d found me curled up on the bathroom floor, severely dehydrated and confused. After they’d pumped me full of fluids, I was able to explain to the ER doctor that I’d been suffering with migraines for years. Although none had been quite as debilitating as this one before. He wrote out the prescription and I hadn’t missed a dose since. One capsule in the morning, sprinkled into some yogurt kept my migraines mostly at bay.
The headaches were one of the few things I’d inherited from my mother, or so she had recited on multiple occasions. Strange as it seems, I still remember her soft words and gentle touches when I suffered through my first.
“It’ll be over soon, Emory,” she pressed a cool cloth against my pounding head. “They never last more than a day.”
“Why?” I croaked.
My bedroom was pitch-black, even though the sun was high in the sky. Mother had burst into my room, ranting about how we were going to be late. When she’d found me cocooned underneath a pile of blankets, she’d ripped them off. The pain which followed had been so swift, I’d whimpered as I drew my legs to my chest and covered my head with my arms, trying desperately to block out the light streaming through the windows.
To my surprise, she’d tossed the covers back over me and quickly left the room, only to return a few minutes later with several of our maids. I could hear them moving about, but it wasn’t until Mother coaxed me out from under the pile did I realize they’d put something over the windows.
“I don’t know,” she sighed, brushing the hair from my face. “They’re merely another burden we must learn to live with.”
It was one of the few times I’d ever felt she might actually have had a heart beating inside her chest. Before the money, power, and greed transformed her into the soulless abomination I’d come to know.
Shaking my head to clear my thoughts, I pulled on my coat and grabbed my bags as I rushed out the door to my car. I hated to be late, and my trip down memory lane had cost me precious minutes I’d never be able to recover.
One of the things I love most about my move to Mountain Grove was the morning drive to school. It wasn’t long, but it was peaceful. After growing up with the hustle and bustle of living in New York City, there was something to be said about cruising down the streets of the quiet mountain town at the break of dawn.
But the most magical part—and the sole reason for my early morning departures—was about to begin. I pulled into my parking space just in time to watch as the sun peeked over the top of the mountain ridges. No matter how many times I’d seen it, it always managed to steal my breath.
Something so simple, yet it signified so much. A new day. A new beginning. A do-over. Regardless of what had happened in your life, there was one thing for certain. The sun would rise the next day and with it, your chance to right the wrongs of the world.
For me, teaching became my sunrise. A way to have an impact on the future.
I’d been ridiculed, bullied, and made to feel insignificant throughout my life, not only at home, but at the expensive private school I was forced to attend. The adults who should have stood up for me, simply turned their heads to the abuse while they cashed their big fat paychecks. It was one of the driving factors in my quest to become a teacher. If I could intervene and show even one child their worth, then my years of torment would have meaning.
Closing my eyes, I took a fortifying breath.You can make a difference.For so many years, negativity ruled my life. My mother was its greatest champion.
“Take the stairs, Emory. You could use the exercise.”
“Jesus, Emory. Eat a salad once in a while.”
And my personal favorite.
“Thank God you come from money, because Lord knows no man would want you for your body.”
The insults only worsened the older I became and somewhere along the line, she had lost her ability to be subtle. It took years in therapy during college before I understood what her harsh words really were. Abuse. By then though, my self-esteem had already taken the hit.
I snatched my bags off the passenger’s seat and got out of the car. There was an entire building full of impressionable kids who needed someone to be in their corner, even if it was only for a few hours of the day.
Seth, in particular, had me concerned. Ever since the scene with his father, he’d been even more quiet and withdrawn than usual. I’d asked several of his other teachers about his background. From what I’d gathered, before his mom passed away, he’d been an engaging straight A student. Now he was barely passing his classes. I had the distinct impression it was much more than grief causing his decline, but I’d have to navigate my way carefully.
Pulling my jacket closer to ward off the chill of the early morning, I trudged up the steps of the middle school, then through the heavy steel door designated for employees only. The hallways were beginning to come to life, with janitors making their rounds and other teachers preparing for their days, but soon they’d be filled to the brim with hundreds of pre-teens who wanted to be anywhere except here. I’d been the same at their age.
Life truly worked in mysterious ways.
For the third day this week, I watched as a despondent Seth sat in the back of my classroom. His eyes were focused forward; however, he didn’tseeanything. When I announced the pop quiz and distributed the test papers, he never made a move to pick up his pencil. He merely sat there and stared.
