“Very surprised. But she was happy for me and said if I ever wanted to get back into teaching that she would refer me, but she looked forward to seeing my art and told me I should start posting it on social media so everyone could keep up with me and see my stuff.”
“Oh my god, you should.”
“I’m just a beginner, though,” I say.
“Please. Beginner my ass. But if you’re that nervous about it, just make the profile private so only your people can see.”
“Do you think you and Winnie could come help me take stuff down in my classroom?”
“Of course. When she’s home from work, we can talk calendars.”
Hazel asks me to recount the meeting word for word, and I do, including my own commentary on how nervous I was. How I almost lost my breakfast, I was so scared, but once it was done, I felt just fine. And how I cried when I walked into my classroom knowing it would be one of the last times.
I had a spare box in the room and packed up some of my desk items, not ready to touch any of the art from my students. I know I’ll be keeping it, but taking it down felt too soon.
What I did today was hard.
But I’m so proud of myself.
As I pull into my driveway, I nearly slam on the brakes, my heart stuttering in my chest.
“Oh shit,” I say.
“What? What’s wrong?” Hazel asks.
“Todd is here.”
“What?! Why?”
“The box. I texted him and told him that I’m not mailing the box and he can come get it. He said he’d come today, but he’s like a half-hour early.”
“Ew, like he’s asserting his dominance or something. Trying to catch you off guard. I hate it. I hate him. I’m coming over to beat his face in.”
“Haze. He’s not worth the jail time.”
“Ugh, fine. But call me if you need me. I can be there in five.”
“You live fifteen minutes away.”
“I said what I said.”
Hazel hangs up, and I try to breathe through the rising nausea. A thousand moths take flight in my stomach. I’m afraid that, for the second time, I might lose the only meal I’ve had today.
Todd is sitting on my porch stoop, looking exactly the same as he did six months ago. His dirty blond hair is combed to the side, perfectly styled without a hair out of place. He’s wearingjeans and a baby blue button-down that brings out his blue eyes. His lean frame looks leaner than I remember, especially compared to Miles.
“Hi,” I say as I climb out of my car. “You’re early.”
“Yeah, I have a lunch thing, so I needed to stop by a little earlier.”
“I told you I wasn’t going to be here,” I said.
“Where were you?” he demands.
I try to ignore him as I haul my box of things from the trunk of my car and carry the box to my door. It’s none of his business where I was, but old habits die hard.
“The school,” I say, proud of myself for keeping it vague, even if I couldn’t ignore him completely. I knew this moment would be hard. In all of our four years together, my priority was staying small so Todd was comfortable. I was practiced from a childhood of being as good as I could possibly be so I wouldn’t be more of a burden to my parents. Unlearning all of these things will take time with my parents and my friends and eventually a new partner, but they’re especially hard with someone who has only ever known the smallest version of me.
Todd doesn’t offer to take the box from me, and I don’t ask him to. He just hovers as I unlock the door.
