“Come in,” she says, answering the door before I even knock. She looks older, her fiery red hair turned a bit more gray, but she’s still as cool as she was when I was in high school, with red streaks and paint-stained overalls.
I hope I’m as beautiful as Ms. Price when I’m her age.
Inside, her house is warm and cluttered, put kindly. Art hangs everywhere in all forms, half-finished canvases lean against the walls, and the floor is covered with miscellaneous items.
The smell of chamomile tea drifts from the kitchen, and I get a weird sensation that I’m seventeen again, carrying a sketchbook to her classroom and hoping she’d provide some comfort during those painful days.
I suppose that’s what I’m coming to her for now, too.
She nods to the small table by the window where I sit, playing with my rings anxiously. “You got my note?” she asks, settling into the seat across from me.
“I did. Thank you for inviting me.”
“Don’t thank me, you know you’re always welcome here.” She pours tea into a chipped mug and sets it in front of me, her hands as steady as they’ve always been. “But I’m glad you came.”
She asks me about how my life has changed since I graduated from Rosehill, avoiding the obvious. The rumors, the drama. The entire town having opinions on who I am before they’ve even met me.
I tell her about college, returning to town, Layla.
I even mention Nate.
“You look tired, Iris,” she says, out of the blue, catching onto my thoughts. “Heavy-hearted.”
“I guess I am.” She waits, patient as ever, as I gather my thoughts.
“I was offered a new job out of state.”
I haven’t wanted to say it. To make it real. I can imagine the look on Nate’s face.He was so hurt last night. But it’s always there in the back of my mind.
I’m leaving.
“How do you feel about that?” she asks, her expression giving nothing away.
“Ifeelawful. But it was stupid to think I could belong here.”
“And why wouldn’t you belong?”
“You know why,” I whisper. “You should see the looks. The emails I still get. It’s been months, but it feels like it was yesterday. I mean,youclearly heard.”
Ms. Price shrugs, like what she heard doesn’t matter. “Whatabout Coach Wesley?”
“He wasn’t happy,” I mumble, looking down at my tea. “He thinks we should still be together.”
She nods, standing without another word. She goes to a cabinet by the window, coming back with a photograph, faded yellow with time. “I want to show you something.”
It’s a young woman, a teenager even, with golden hair and a bright smile, laying a field of flowers. The photo is old, but even still, you can tell that whoever is behind the camera is someone the girl loves dearly.
“That’s Diana,” Ms. Price tells me. “She was the love of my life.”
I look up, wide-eyed, but she keeps her gaze on the picture, with more longing in her eyes than I’ve ever seen.
I never knew Ms. Price had someone.
“It was the summer after we graduated. I thought things between us could work. That somehow, some way, we could be together. But I was a fool. She married a man while I stayed here, longing for someone who never came back.”
“Do you still love her?”
She nods. “I miss her every day. Love doesn’t vanish because someone leaves, Iris.”
