I’ve decided to turn over a new leaf. I’m not going to bend over backwards for other people. I’ll stand up for what I want and what makesmehappy. I’m going to go full-throttle at making a name for myself and building my career.
Instead of prying, Joey nods her head, as if she understands the turmoil and fresh bruising on my heart and wants to avoid making it any worse.
To change the subject entirely, I ask her about her day.
“So, tell me…how bad was it? What do you do again?”
I know Pat gave me a litany of instructions and information before he left, and I vaguely recall him saying something about Joey being a teacher and being off this summer, in the event I need her to watch Woody. Other than that, I have no idea what her job entails.
She groans, dropping her head to her hands, her elbows to her knees.
“I’m a high school teacher. And this school year has been gruesome. Unbearable. It feels like my entire soul was thrown into the paper shredder.”
“Well, shit. That sounds bad.”
I’m not sure how much I should delve into the specifics of her situation. But before I question myself any further, she continues.
“I found out one of my favorite and brightest students is dropping out because she’s pregnant. She’s fucking fifteen years old! What the hell is wrong with this world? How did we fail this girl so badly that we didn’t teach her how to respect herself and the importance of protection? We’ve failed to teach these girls how to stand up for themselves and say no, so they don’t become easy prey to some asshole who pressures them into sex after only two weeks of dating,” she uses air quotes, “convincing her to give up her virginity.”
I wait, fearful of saying the wrong thing, completely unqualified to respond to her rant. I’m a guy. I’m not suggesting what that boy did is right, but I also know we will do and say just about anything to try and get into a girl’s pussy. It just is what it is. We think with our dicks, pure and simple.
Instead, I remain reflective and allow her to vent, choosing not to interject with questions. She flops her head against the back of the couch, her sweet-smelling strawberry curls tossed over the pillow. Her eyes close tightly in agony, but her voice becomes softer. More contained. But still filled with her pain and aggravation.
“Gina is so bright. So funny and smart. But I knew it…I just sensed she had self-image issues. I knew she came from a broken home. I saw how she carried herself in the hallways and in the classroom, always wrapping an arm around her middle, like she was trying to protect herself. Or to hide her shame. And I saw that boy lurking around her. But I didn’t fucking do anything!”
My stomach tightens with anxiety over what Joey must feel. Setting my glass down on the table, I reach over and gently place my hand on her knee to show my support. It’s the only thing I can think of doing. She startles slightly, but closes her eyes again.
“Don’t do that to yourself, Joey,” I implore. “You can’t control these kids or stop bad things from happening. You’re doing the best you can under the worst circumstances. It’s a shame this happened, because it’s obvious you really like this girl, but it’s not your fault she chose to have unprotected sex and got knocked up. You didn’t make it happen.”
She wrenches her knee away and I drop my hand. I don’t want things to get awkward.
“You don’t understand,” she whispers, taking another sip and placing it on the table next to mine. “It’s my job to be observant and do something about them. But I didn’t know until it was too late.”
I can’t possibly believe she feels responsible for this girl’s predicament, but I don’t feel qualified to argue the fact since I don’t know the entire story. So just like she let me off the hook about Alyssa, I decide to skirt the hundred-pound elephant in the room.
“You’re a teacher, Joey. Not a mind reader or their counselor. Youcouldn’thave known.”
She stares at me then, her bright green eyes either mulling over my words or maybe preparing to smack me in the face. But instead, she sighs and stands to head back into the kitchen.
I watch with interest as she flings open drawers.
“Have you seen a key on a red ribbon anywhere? Pat has my extra housekey, but I have no idea where he keeps it.”
I’ll admit, I may have peaked in a few drawers the last few nights, but it wasn’t out of snoopiness or boredom. I had to locate various cooking utensils and a light bulb for the kitchen stove. I don’t recall if I ever noticed another set of keys.
I shake my head. “I haven’t. I’m sorry. But we can call Patrick.”
I look to the clock on the microwave and do the math. It’s close to one in the morning in China and since he’s there on business, there’s a strong likelihood he’s asleep and wouldn’t answer until morning.
A kitchen drawer slams and Joey curses loudly.
“Shit! Just another nail in today’s coffin. I don’t think this day could get any worse.”
I move into the kitchen next to her, but leave about three feet of personal space between us, but do place a hand on top of her shoulder.
“Listen…why don’t we text Pat to ask where the key is, and in the meantime, I was about to fix some dinner. We can eat and see if we hear anything back. If not, you can stay the night here and then by morning, he’ll get back to us with the whereabouts of the key, and that will be that.”
I try to keep it positive and light, but I watch as her shoulders droop in a weary posture. I’m not sure if that’s just a continuation of her horrendous day or if she really doesn’t want to spend any more time over here with me.
