Page 14 of Chalk It Up

“Well, as long as it doesn’t affect her work, I couldn’t care less.” I declare despite seeming to care very much for no apparent reason. “Alana, those contracts look great and I agree with the quotes Reid worked out. I suggested some dates for each of those companies so that I can come out and do flyovers for them, so feel free to look them over and let me know when I’m going out.”

“Sounds good, thanks August. I’ll email the dates over to you.” She responds and turns back to Reid and their discussion. I sure am being dismissed by a lot of women today. Feeling like an intruder, I go to my office to pack up for the day, and head out to get Addie from Ms. Wilma. That thought alone has me breathing a little easier.

Dinner with Addie always makes a difficult day so much more bearable, but I realized I need to tell her that her teacher will be over tomorrow to help with her part in the Christmas program. I don’t want to bring it up, though. I’m sure Addie is anxious about this narration. I want her to know that I won’t pull information out of her, but that she can always come to me when she’s ready. Although I'm not above a little maneuvering with a basic daily question. I’m just hoping for a certain outcome.

“How’s school going, Ads?” I prompt.

“It’s going okay.” She slightly whispers back, staring into her bowl of chicken tortilla soup and mixing it around aimlessly. So this program is definitely on her mind. I usually wait for her to come out and tell me what exactly is bothering her, but I feel like it might be better to lead this time since I already talked to Evangeline about coming over.

“You seem a little preoccupied, Ads.” I start softly. “Is it because of your narration part in the Christmas program?”

Addie sighs deeply, sets her spoon down with a clink in her full bowl of soup, and twiddles her hands in her lap. I wish I could wrap her up and protect her from all of the things that steal her sweet glow. But I know the best thing I can do for her is be a support in the challenging times and help her to learn to work through them. So, instead, I wait patiently while she finds the words she wants to say. These problems are so trivial in hindsight but I know in the moment they feel like the biggest issues she’ll ever face.

“Ms. Jake gave me a long part to speak but everytime I try to read it to myself my brain feels all fuzzy and my eyes don’t focus.” Addie admits, eyes fixed on her food, and if it doesn’t just drive a dagger through my heart. Suddenly, I’m not feeling so keen on Ms. Jake coming over to help anymore.

I reach to grab her hand in consolation. “Sweetheart, I know it seems like what Ms. Jake decided is a little unfair and maybe it feels a little impossible too, but I figured out something that might help you.” Her eyes fly up to mine and my heart comes back to life at the hope I see, so I continue with what I hope she’ll perceive as good news. “Ms. Jake is going to come over for dinner a couple of nights a week, and after dinner she’s going to help you memorize your lines. How does that sound?”

Her mouth gapes open and I’m not exactly fluent in seven-year-olds, so I wait anxiously to hear if this is a good reaction. “Daddy! I can’t wait for Ms. Jake to come over! Can she come over now?” Okay, so good idea.

I take a bite of my cooling soup, catching a hardy spoonful of all of the toppings, before responding. “Well, she can’t come over tonight, but she’ll be here and ready tomorrow. Are you still nervous that she gave you the speaking part?” This girl’s emotions are a lot to follow sometimes and she’s only seven.

“No way! That means I get to hang out with Ms. Jake. She is so nice and pretty and smells so good.” I absolutely cannot argue with her there. Those are all valid arguments for not being upset at Ms. Jake anymore. “Oh! Daddy! I need to go clean my room! What if she sees it? Does she like dogs?” She scoops up her bowl in a frenzy to the kitchen in what I’m assuming is an effort to start cleaning.

“Woah, woah, slow down, Ads. You can definitely clean your room if you want but I don’t think Ms. Jake will see it. And please, sit back down and eat some of your food. After that, I’ll help you clean everything so it’s all ready for tomorrow night.” I love her enthusiasm and if I’m being honest, I’m a little eager myself to see how tomorrow goes. “And after we clean, you can help me plan what to make for you and Ms. Jake for dessert. Deal?”

“Deal.” We bump fists, as is our custom whenever we make a very serious, binding agreement. And deciding what to make for my daughter’s teacher for dessert surprisingly feels very serious.

chapter 10

Evie

I wake up with my stomach in knots. I haven’t figured out how I feel about going over to August’s house tonight to help Addie. I’m excited to see Addie and help her succeed, of course. I’m just hoping that her dad makes himself scarce while we tutor. After I give myself ten more seconds of dramatic agony staring at my ceiling, I finally toss back my covers and get some breakfast ready for me and Maple before heading out for work.

Most people hate their commute, but I love mine. How can you not love this glittering lake and the towering trees? Pine Lake is a dream and I’m eternally grateful I ended up here. One of the things I love most is our drive-thru coffee shop, Driftwood, and that it happens to be on my drive to work. Today sounds like an iced caramel mocha with an extra shot of espresso kind of day. Thea constantly gives me a hard time about ordering iced coffee regardless of the time of year.

I always get to work much earlier than necessary. I have to spend enough time in my car hyping myself up to go inside. That isn’t because I dislike my job–I don’t–I just like to feel extra mentally prepared to give my kids my best. With my heater and seat warmer on, I can’t seem to shake the butterflies wreaking havoc in my stomach everytime I think of August and tonight. I can’t tell if I’m terrified or excited. Possibly a little bit of both. Do I want the day to drag on, delaying the inevitable, or do I want it to go by quickly? I let my head hit the back of the seat after taking a sip of my iced mocha, and steady my breaths. I feel like I do this a lot, but I have to give myself credit that the amount of times I need to do deep-breathing exercises has diminished greatly since I left Dustin.

Ready and centered for the day, I grab my myriad of bags and drinks and haul everything into my classroom. I set all of my things down on my desk and hang my black coat on my chair. I readjust my outfit, which I may or may not have spent extra time picking out this morning. Attempting to find the perfect balance between professional and attractive for tonight, I decided on a high-waisted grey pencil skirt, black heels, and a white button-down tucked in. A thin black belt cinches the skirt and ties everything together.

I may teach second grade, but I like to keep everything classy and feel confident about myself, too. I stand at the board prepping the morning lesson for today when all the kids start to excitedly rush in. This is truly the most fulfilling job I could imagine.

The rest of the morning goes smoothly. The kids are in such great moods, which is perfect since it started raining, forcing us to have lunch recess inside. While all the kids leave to eat lunch, I take time to prepare some fun toys and activities for them to enjoy during their recess, some educational, some just for entertainment.

The kids come flooding back into the room in giggles and I show them some of the options they have to enjoy for the next forty minutes.

Typically during lunch, I’ll eat and continue prepping the day, grade the children’s work, and get things ready for tomorrow morning, but indoor recess is one of the rare moments I get to enjoy some time with the kids without having to worry about teaching or agendas or lesson standards. I meander around the room talking, asking questions, and encouraging the kids as much as I can. That is, until I hear a comment from one kid to another that makes my veins freeze.

“Yeah, Ms. Jake is coming to my house for dinner tonight.” Adeline proclaims rather enthusiastically to one of the other girls.

“Why is she going to your house? Doesn’t she have food?” I eavesdrop on their innocent conversation, wondering if I need to intervene. The last thing I need is gossip, and the way things translate in seven and eight-year-old brains is very rarely accurate.

“Well, maybe. I did bring her lunch before, so maybe not.” They literally ran back in as I was cleaning up my lunch, but I let their conversation continue. I like to give the kids their independence, but I will step in if Addie is unclear.

“You made Ms. Jake lunch?” the other girl asks.

“No, obviously not.” Addie responds with a sarcastic roll of her eyes while continuing the puzzle they’re working on. “My daddy made it for her.” I’m fairly certain my blood pressure just shot into the atmosphere and I might possibly be blushing.

“That’s weird.” Nadine, retorts.