Emotion welled up inside me. I had no idea what Taylor wanted to thank me for, but I could see he was overcome. “Taylor, I should thank you. I had you my first year, and God knows I was clueless on how to be a teacher.”
He laughed. “That’s not the way I remember it. What I remember is how you made me feel. I was struggling a lot at that time. In sixth grade I had finally admitted to myself that I wasn’t attracted to girls the way my friends were. By the time I hit your class a year later, I was struggling with how I felt about myself. I hated that I couldn’t just be like everyone else. I still remember a day that fall that you found me after school. My locker had been near your classroom, and I was crying. You came out of your room and asked me to come in and sit on a couch. You just waited there, without judgment, and gave me time to get myself together.”
The scene Taylor mentioned sprang to the front of my memories. I wish it was the only time in the past few years I’d found a kid crying in the hall, but honestly, it wasn’t. Middle school is such a unique time, filled with so many emotions. I would do anything to make it easier for my students.
“I do remember that, though I have to tell you that the reason I waited quietly was because I had no idea what to say,” I said, smiling to myself. That was true for so much of my early years in teaching. Hell, it was still true now to some degree. There was no script to go by when trying to help students when they were struggling.
“That’s okay. What I clearly remember was that you rubbed my back as you gave me Kleenex and told me that middle school can be a bitch and the most important thing to figure out before I headed to high school was who I wanted to be and who I wanted to surround myself with. You said one true friend was far more valuable than many friends who wouldn’t respect who I was. And you told me that I was the person who got to decide what journey I wanted to take, no one else did.” Taylor smiled down at me.
“Well, one, I’m sorry I said bitch to a seventh grader.”
Laughing, he replied, “It did make an impact.”
I went on. “I do remember that I didn’t know what you were dealing with and didn’t want to pry, so I just gave you advice based on what I struggled with in middle school. That wasn’t my sexual identity, but horrible, backstabbing, so-called friends who spread rumors about me. People who looked down at me, who pitied me, who thought I was less than them because of the money, or lack thereof, that my family had. That was when I realized that as long as I had my friend Emma with me, all was well. I didn’t need anyone else.”
Taylor sat with that quietly for a moment. “I’m sorry you dealt with that. The reason I wanted to thank you was that I wasn’t sure if you realized how impactful a conversation like that was with a kid. My aunt is a teacher, and she always says you hear about everything you do that’s wrong but not often what you did that was right. Those words from you lifted me up over and over again until I was ready to own my identity. I felt like you saw me, you cared about me, and I can’t thank you enough for that.” His voice was overcome with emotion.
Instinctively, I leaned forward and wrapped him in a hug. I hated that any kid ever had to struggle, but I was beyond grateful to see this one standing here, owning his truth, and apparently doing very well. I wish that for all my students, for kids everywhere. Whispering in his ear, I said, “I’m so glad I could help. I wish I could have done more.”
Pulling back, I saw John had joined us with a book in hand. I took it from him and circled back to the register, ringing him up as I saw him check in with Taylor, grazing his cheek with a kiss. I took John’s credit card and then put the receipt in the bag and handed him everything back.
“I’m so glad you guys came in. If you’re in town for long, stop by again. I’d love to catch up when you have more time,” I said.
“You bet. Maybe we can get together for coffee?” Taylor said as he and John started to head toward the door.
“Anytime,” I replied and watched them head out and down the block.
Looking down at my hands, I exhaled. Taylor’s aunt was right. You often didn’t hear about what you did that made an impact, though that was okay too. It was just nice to hear that something had. Hearing the bell again, I looked up and saw John walking back toward me.
I glanced around the counter. “Did you forget something?”
He smiled and shook his head. “Nah, Taylor’s headed to the deli. I just wanted to come back and tell you thanks too.”
I raised a brow. “Thanks, for what?”
John ran his hand over his short hair, then laid his hands on the counter across from mine. “My dad’s a teacher too. I know the difference one good teacher can make in the life of a kid.” He paused, seeming to get some thoughts together. “Taylor told me about growing up here, about coming out. It’s not easy anywhere, but a small town like this can be tough.”
I nodded. I didn’t know what it was like to come out, but I certainly knew what it was like to have people talking about you.
John continued. “I just wanted to thank you for supporting your students, even when you don’t realize you’re doing it. That’s huge, and you can have no idea of the impact you made. Or, actually, the impact you still make. It’s like ripples.”
I cleared my throat, looking up at John. “Thanks,” I said softly, then smiled at him. “Are all nineteen-year-olds this wise now? They certainly weren’t a decade ago.”
He laughed. “Nope. I’m out here making a good name for us all. Catch me playing video games with Taylor, however, and you’d see a different side.” He took a moment, looked me in the eye, nodded twice, then tapped my hand as he moved to go. “Keep being you, Ms. Jameson. Kids need that. Especially in a place like this.” With that, he walked out the door.
I watched John walk out and head back down the block. His words washed over me, and like clockwork, the tears began. I grabbed some tissues and sank down to the floor, praying the store could be empty until I could get my shit together. Unfortunately, not much time passed before I heard the bell and my name being called.
“Maggie? Maggie?”
“She’s got to be here somewhere. Maggie?”
I stood up from the floor area behind the counter, brining my used Kleenex as well as the box with me. Locking eyes on Ivy and Emma, I watched them take in what I was sure was my blotchy face, the pile of Kleenex, back up to my face, then they looked at each other and burst out laughing.
“Hey!” I cried, indignantly. Emma was bent over, trying to catch her breath, she was laughing so hard. “Some best friend,” I muttered.
“It’s just, I mean, I’m sorry, but you look…,” Emma started.
“Pathetic.” Ivy snorted.
