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Emily leans forward and hands Teddy another sandwich square, and he noshes right into it, further adding to the peanut butter building up on his cheeks.
“Are you excited to start teaching on Monday?”
I adjust my shoulders, the stress of that reality suddenly weighing heavy on me, and I rotate my head on my neck, trying to ease the tension I feel at the big change on the horizon.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.”
“No, it’s okay,” I say, trying to keep us in this semi-conversational space that still doesn’t feel entirely natural but hopefully will at some point. “I used to be a college professor, before Teddy. So, teaching high school history at summer school, with all the kids who flunked out and don’t care…I don’t know. It feels a bit like a step down.”
When Emily doesn’t respond, I look her way, finding her watching me with a thoughtful expression.
“Not everyone who does summer school is there because they failed a class,” she tells me. “Some of them want to get a head start, get ahead so they can…I don’t know, move through high school faster or start college sooner.”
She shrugs a shoulder, and for some reason, I feel like this is a personal topic for her, something that impacts her specifically.
So I backtrack.
“That’s a great point. I shouldn’t go into it setting the bar on the floor. I’m sure they’re all incredibly capable.”
If I were being completely honest, I wouldn’t say that to her, but in this moment, I can tell it’s the right thing to say based on the smile she gives me.
“So what’s the plan after summer school? Are you trying to teach college again? UCSB? Community college?”
I blow out a long breath. “That’s the question of the day. The question of every day. But I don’t really know. I’ll just have to wait and see how things sort themselves out.”
“Well, whatever it is you decide to do, any school would be lucky to have you,” she tells me with a smile. “And I hope everything goes smoothly for you next week.”
My lips tilt up at the sides.
How long has it been since someone has just…wished me well? Said kind words for no reason? Been encouraging without feeling like they’ll get something in the end?
Melody was never like that. When she said something nice or friendly, there was always another thing coming behind it. A request of some kind. Nothing was ever just…because.
It isn’t until this very moment that I realize just how sad that is.
It’s not much longer before we pack everything up and make the walk back to the car then head to the house. The entire time, I try to replay Emily’s kind and encouraging words in my head, trying to find the ulterior motive in our conversation. Trying to figure out where it is she’s trying to take this.
I can’t find anything.
And I can’t decide whether that makes me happier than the alternative.
***
Teddy’s out when we get back to the house, and Emily takes him up for his nap while I head to my bathroom to rinse off. The entire time I’m cleaning the sand and sweat from my body, I wonder about Emily.
I know a lot from her resume and background check, possibly more than she realizes I know. But what I don’t know is all the stuff that makes up her insides, and I’m starting to grow curious about how all that mixes together.
What made her want to be a nanny? Was there ever a consideration to do something else? Why was she so sensitive about the summer school topic? Why does she want to stay in this town? I’m pretty sure I’ve heard her say she was born and raised here, but what does she love so much about Sandalwood that it’s where she wants to always be?
And that small scar on her lip—where did that come from, and why does it…seem to always catch my eye?
I clear my throat and shift the water to a slightly cooler temperature. There’s no need to allow my mind to travel down whatever path that was.
Scrubbing up quickly, I wrap up my shower and towel off, throwing on some gray sweats.
A startled yelp from somewhere in the house has me sprinting out of my room and down the hallway. When I see Teddy asleep in his crib, I realize it must have been Emily and jog quickly down the stairs, where I find her lying flat on her back in the middle of the kitchen, shaking.
“Fuck, Emily, are you okay?” I ask as I rush to her side.
