It seems Mrs. Archer is wearing her hearing aids today, because she chuckles softly at my question. “No, dear. They’re yours.”
Immediately, I know who sent them. With hesitant fingers, I pluck the tiny white envelope nestled amongst the blooms and slide out the card.
Thought these were pretty close to your favorite color. - Tyler
My face breaks into a wide smile before I even realize it.
“Whoever those are from must be mighty special,” Mrs. Archer observes.
A male throat clears, and both Mrs. Archer and I look toward the sound. Principal Stanback hovers in his office door, eyes moving from the bouquet to me. But not even he, with his threats and slimy innuendo, can squash the butterflies in my belly or diminish the smile blooming in my heart.
Instead, like the mature adult I am, I raise my middle finger and pretend to scratch my face. Then, without a second glance, I spin and exit the office, vase of flowers in hand.
Back in my classroom, I get my students settled in and seated. This class is in the middle of a project, which is a perfect time for me to let them work at their own pace today. I’ve always tried to set a good example and not have my phone out unless it’s my planning period, but today it seems I’m short on self-control where Tyler is concerned.
Placing the vase front and center, I give in to temptation and slide my phone from my purse, scrolling to Tyler’s contact.
Thank you for the flowers. I love them.
A few minutes pass before finally a text pops up.
Tyler
You’re welcome, Jo. Hope I got the color right.
A wistful smile plops onto my face at his words.
They’re perfect. Truly. I love them.
I’m sliding my phone back into my purse when it lights up with another text.
Tyler
You told me they’re forget-me-nots. I don’t want to be just a memory, Jo.
As if he didn’t obliterate a chunk of armor around my heart by picking my favorite color, he had to go and addthatin. A flutter, as tiny as hummingbird wings, blooms in my chest as I read his text again.I don’t want to be just a memory.Those words wrap around me like honey and I want to siphon all the sweetness from this moment and hold it in my grasp.
Despite my certainty the other night that keeping him at arm’s length would be best, I don’t want to. And as sad as this is, no man has ever bought me flowers. Early on in my relationship with Chad we didn’t have much money to spare, so he neverbought them, saying they were a waste of money. And when he began making more money he never bought them because apparently I was a waste of money.
Tyler’s first night here, when I talked to Penny about him, she described Tyler as a man of few words. While I’ve certainly seen that side of him, when he does speak, even right now by text, his words never miss their mark. It’s more like he doesn’t waste words. And right now those words have landed straight in the center of my heart.
Because I’m clueless how to respond to his text, I flip my phone over and stand to walk around the room, inspecting each kid’s art piece. But every few minutes, my eyes wander back to that bouquet on my desk and the words in that text.
I don’t want to be just a memory.
Still staring dreamily at my bouquet, I jump when a soft knock sounds at my classroom door. It opens before I can answer and two sweet faces peek in.
“Hey, Mom,” Abby says, stepping inside, her backpack slung over one shoulder. Amelia trails in behind her, clutching a piece of paper in one hand, brimming over with excitement.
“Hey there, girls!” I respond brightly. “What are you two up to?”
Abby walks to my desk and holds a piece of paper right in my line of sight, face alight with pride. “I made an A on my math exam!”
Jumping from my chair, I round the desk and wrap Abby in my arms.
“I can’t breathe, Mom. Your boobs are suffocating me. Also, so did Amelia.”
Grabbing Amelia, I pull her into a group hugand both girls giggle. We break apart, and I take turns looking between Abby and her new friend.
