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The words flickering on the edges of my vision and crowding my mind pulled back a bit. I could breathe easy.
Finally.
Finally, I could think clearly.
“So,” I began. “That guy in the hallway. Tom Sawyer or whatever—”
“Sawyer’s his first name.”
“It’s a dumb name. Doesn’t matter if it’s first or last.”
She grinned.
I smiled. “That’s the guy—your boss. The one you kissed.”
She sank down in the seat a few centimeters. “Yeah…”
My instinct told me to be quiet, now. To give her the space to fill things in if she wanted to.
“I don’t know why I did it.”
“Maybe you wanted to take a risk. Feel alive.”
“That feels like part of it,” she admitted.
“Do you like being a teacher?” I asked.
She snapped to attention. “What?”
“Your job. Do you even like it?”
“Of course I like my job.”
“Well, yeah, we’re all trained to say that. But really; do you wake up every day full of energy, can’t wait to go to work?”
Grace scrunched up her face. “No, who does?”
“Me,” I said. “Sorry, don’t mean to brag, but actually I do. I love what I do.”
“Well, I love what I do, too.”
“You just said you don’t.”
“No, I said that I don’t wake up full of energy and can’t wait to get to work—”
“Then that’s not love. That’s obligation.”
Grace went silent. Then, “What if I like the obligation?”
“Obligation is a distraction,” I said. “It’s a table scrap of the feast it could be. It’s a way to avoid sitting at the table, pointing to the food you want, and saying ‘I want that.’”
She crossed her arms. “And I’m guessing you’re used to sitting at that table and pointing?”
“I’m at the head of the table, baby,” I said cockily; confidently. “Anything less is settling.”
Her voice quieted. “Then why are you pointing at me?”
“Because. I had a taste of something divine and I want seconds.”
