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He opens his mouth, but stops himself. “I just don’t want to.”
“If I have to call Grandma to take care of you while I’m at work, then you have to give me a better reason than that.”
He huffs and climbs out of his chair. “Never mind.” Then he goes to pick up his bag from where I had set it near the door.
I don’t get it. He was fine over the weekend. Running over the details in my mind, after I had my date, if it really could be called that, with Everett, I picked him up from Mom and Dad’s, we had lunch, and then we watched some of his favorite movies at home. Sunday was French toast and a walk through town that ended in hot cocoa for him, tea for me, and then home for more movies. I’m lost, so when he turns back to me, I try again. “Did you sleep okay last night?”
“Yes.”
“Then why are you in such a bad mood?”
“I just don’t wanna go. Mrs. Emerson says all feelings are ballots, and it’s okay to be in a bad mood sometimes.”
I sigh. Mrs. Emerson—Becca—is a little bit of a boho girl, but she’s right. He’s allowed to feel what he feels. “All feelings are valid, not ballots.”
“That’s what I said.”
I’d hoped the moodiness would hold off until he was at least a preteen, but it seems he’s on the fast-track. Digging in will only make him lock down about it, so I move on. He can tell me on his own time. Which better be tonight, because this is going to bug me all day. “Alright, buddy. Let’s get going.”
We make it with plenty of time, even though he’s dragging. When I see him off to his classroom, Owen charges in like he’s trying to get away from me. It’s completely unlike him, but I try not to take it personally.
And I fail. I fail big time.
It hurts when he skips our traditional hug. It hurts worse when he doesn’t even say goodbye for the day. I’m beginning to wonder if he had a bad dream about me.
When I get to my classroom, I have my own crisis to deal with in the form of Marta McCall’s wiggly front tooth. I love kids and all their quirks. Their brutal honesty, the way they don’t know any better than to press on with their curiosity, all that awkward stuff. But wiggly teeth give me the heebie-jeebies, and I cannot see her poke at it again without feeling faint. “Riley, can you—"
“Got it.” She goes off to handle the situation, knowing my limitations. I am grateful every day for my co-teacher, now more than ever. She takes Marta to Nurse Neva’s office to handle the thing, and I start class.
Between Owen’s weirdness this morning and the kiss that never was, this particular Monday is kicking my ass. Going over colors, I can’t help but think about the exact shade of Everett’s eyes. They’re dark blue, whereas mine are light blue. The way he looked at me when I turned my head from him… it’s stuck in my mind, like a nightmare I can’t wake up from.
So why did I turn my head? I’m not entirely sure.
Instinct? No. Lack of attraction? Pfft. Hardly. When I see Owen go past my classroom window without so much as a wave, I realize why I avoided the kiss. There is too much on the line for me to risk screwing this up. I wanted to kiss Everett. It felt like the right thing to do. But at the last second, I realized it was wrong. He doesn’t know the entire story. I have to give him the chance to know everything before any kind of kissing happens.
But, god, we clicked again. The conversation flowed easily, and looking into his eyes, I got so lost in him. His enthusiasm for his work was contagious, and when he couldn’t stop smiling about running into wildfires, I felt that thing you’re supposed to feel when you like someone. The heart flutter. The soul-deep relaxation that somehow also makes you pants-wetting anxious. Things simply feel right with Everett. I felt it the first night with him. I feel it now.
Love at first sight isn’t a thing, right? I felt like I had known him my whole life and was just waiting for him to show up.
Riley and Marta come back, and the other kids marvel at her gap for a bit before they settle into the lesson. I cannot wait for naptime today. I just need to be in my own little world without worrying about accidentally slipping and saying something Everett-related in front of the class. She takes over the class for a few, while I get snack time ready in the rear of the classroom. A perfect task to let my mind wander.
Of course, it’s not love at first sight, no matter how many books I read that are based on that exact premise. This is real life, and in real life, it’s just lust combined with somehow knowing we would fit together under any other circumstances. That’s all it is, and no matter how I feel right now, I have to keep the bigger picture in mind.
Owen. When his class walks by, his cheeks are ruddy like when he cries. I want to run out there and check on him, but I can’t. I’m in the middle of work. As much as I enjoy teaching where he goes to school, this is torture.
He is the biggest picture there is. The real question isn’t about love at first sight. It’s about how do I tell a man about his five-year-old son?
There is no easy way to do it. I googled the heck out of it. Some people suggest ripping the bandage off fast, but others say to ease him into the truth. No matter what I do, there will be plenty of hurt, confused feelings to go around. The guilt is eating me alive.
After snack time, we go through a few lessons, and naptime comes faster than I’d expected. When the quiet hits, my peace of mind is shattered by a call from Becca. Riley nods, so I run out the door. “Hey, Becca, what’s going on?”
Her sigh is heavier than I expect. “Owen punched Storm Reeves on the playground. Neva is here, and I—"
“I’ll be right there.”
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13
