After taking a quick shower, I pull my hair back into a serviceable ponytail. I used to spend a lot of time and money on haircuts and blowouts, but ever since Brett left, I consider it a win if I run a brush through it once a day.
I normally wear jeans and a t-shirt to work, but today I put on a pair of khakis and a sweater. I don’t exactly look like the heightof fashion, but I’m pretty sure I look good enough to be an English teacher. I’m going to stop at Elk Lake High after work and try to convince Mr. Cooke of that.
Happily, my parents have both started their day and neither is lingering around the kitchen. My dad is probably already on the golf course, and my mom is most likely meeting friends for coffee before taking her standard three-mile walk through town. She claims the latter is for exercise, but I’m more inclined to think she does it to keep an eye on the goings on of Elk Lake. My mom likes to be kept in the loop and while not exactly the town gossip, she is always very well informed.
Instead of making coffee at home, I get into my car and go right into work. I arrive ten minutes early. Walking into the front of the shop, I notice the early rush has already come and gone—except for a few tables in the process of finishing up.
Faith looks up from the cash register and smiles. “Good morning! You look nice today.”
It’s a commentary about how bad I normally look for her to suggest such a thing. “Thanks,” I tell her while strapping on my apron and taking over the counter. Once my boss walks into the kitchen, I start to reflect on recent events.
When I lived in Madison and worked at the publishing house, I was filled with anticipation over new books that I got to read and acquire for publication. I plotted and planned releases, and I encouraged authors to be the best storytellers they could be. My life had meaning, even outside of my desire to become a mother.
I have not had that sensation since coming back to Elk Lake. Which is no one’s fault but my own.Imoved in with my parents.Itook the job at the bakery. But in one hour last night, I realized I’m done holding my finger on the pause button. I’m ready to take on a new challenge.
I don’t need someone to share my life with to feel like I’m alive again. In fact, I’m still on the fence regarding the whole institution of marriage and how I fit into such a scheme. But I do want to make a difference. I want to feel like I’m helping people beyondfacilitating their morning caffeine buzz. And honestly, who needs my help more than kids do?
I may have formed something of a grudge against babies—due to my lack of being able to have one. But high school kids are far enough away from infancy that they’re safe from my resentment.
After months of heaviness, I practically skipped home from the high school last night. Noah offered me a ride, but I didn’t want to share my bubbling sensation of purpose with anyone else. I wanted to keep it all to myself, like a newly found treasure.
When I walked through the front door, my parents were sitting in the living room. As per their nightly routine, Dad was drinking decaf coffee while my mom sipped on a soda. Historically, they use their evenings to chat about their day, which has become a little bit boring to witness as they now spend most of their days together.
My mom stared at me like I was an apparition who just walked through the wall. “I didn’t realize you were out. I thought you were upstairs.”
“I went for a walk.”
My dad grunted, “You sure do walk a lot. Don’t you get bored with all that walking?”
“It helps me think.”
“Are you thinking about anything interesting?”
I hadn’t planned to tell them anything until I knew for sure I wanted the teaching job at the high school, but I found myself blurting out, “I’m thinking about quitting Rosemary’s.”
“Thank God!” My mom jumped to her feet in obvious excitement. “Are you moving back to Madison to get on with your life?”
I always thought mothers wanted their kids to stay close, but mine doesn’t seem to be wired the same way. It’s not that she doesn’t enjoy seeing me, it’s just that in her mind there’s no future for me in Elk Lake without a husband. And the kind of man she sees me with is someone who has a profession that requires living in a bigger city.
I shook my head. “Not yet.”
“Then what in the world are you going to do? Please don’t tell me you’re going to sit around all day and feel sorry for yourself.”
“Margaret …” my dad practically hissed, his tone heavy with warning. Unlike my mom, he’d be happy if I stayed home forever. I’ve always been a daddy’s girl, and I suspect I always will be.
“What?” my mom demanded. “I’ve been supportive of Allie. I’m just trying to encourage her to move on.”
“And I appreciate that, Mom. I really do.” It didn’t seem prudent to tell her that her form of encouragement was about as pleasant as getting a tooth filled without proper numbing. “I’m thinking about taking a substitute teaching job at the high school.”
“You’re what?!” As offensive as it is, my mother has always subscribed to the old saying that people who can, do, and people who can’t, teach.
“They need an English teacher and a girls’ basketball coach,” I told them. “I just came from basketball practice.”
“Good for you, honey.” At least my dad sounded sincere.
“A teacher?” My mom started to pace across the room with the determination of an Olympic sprinter on the cusp of setting a world record. “You’ve never said anything about wanting to teach.” She acted like I just told her I was going to become a pole dancer at a strip club.
“I’ve been experiencing a lot of things that I never thought about before. Life has a way of taking you places you never thought you’d see.”
