Chapter 34
34
Caleb
Ten days after the concert, I’m back at work and trying to be happy about it.
The kids don’t start school again for another two weeks, but we have in-service days: mostly training and rehashing old procedures, all the routine stuff no one tells you about until your first teaching gig.
But it’s fine. Less glamorous than anything else I did this summer, but normal is good. It’s what I wanted, right?
I’m still so defeated after the concert that it’s hard to say. Life without Valerie is dull and uninspiring. Now that I know what was going on that night, I constantly wonder if she’s okay. I grab my phone a dozen times a day, hoping the latest notification will be from her.
It never is. The only way I “see” her is when Jane uploads another of the instructional videos we recorded to the channel, and it’s one where Valerie is talking about her approach to singing harmony. Past Val grins at me from my spot behind the camera, and the flashback of joy, of being together with her in that moment, is like an electric shock to my senses. I watched it on repeat until my phone died last night. Maybe I should reach out, but I’m not sure she wants to hear from me. Maybe it wouldn’t have changed the outcome, but I wonder what would have happened that night if I’d stayed. I’ve made a bad habit of leaving her over the years.
But I can’t change the past, so I try to move on, focusing on work and my family. Cameron and I tried to remind our mother that she needs to be more involved after Carrie’s little road trip, but I’m not sure she gets it. Still, I think she felt chastised enough that she’ll get through this year without incident.
Hopefully.
At least I got my check for the concert. After it hit me that leaving in the middle of the show might put me in violation of my contract, I spoke to Wade. He didn’t say anything about what I did, just agreed to reach out, and the check came through a few days later. As soon as it cleared, I went to my bank’s financial adviser and put a chunk into a college account for Carrie. It’ll be enough to get her through a couple years, and if she gets the scholarships she deserves, then it would cover her full room and board so she doesn’t have to work while she goes to school.
She’s already had to grow up so much, and I really want her to be able to relax and do her homework, even go to parties, make a few bad decisions. She deserves to get the college experience that I never did.
I finally told Carrie about the money over coffee before she went back to Mom’s, and she started sobbing right in the middle of the cafe. It reminded me all at once that I did this for her. If nothing else came out of my ill-fated return to the limelight, at least my baby sister will be okay. She can pursue her dreams without worrying about the money, and if it all falls apart, she knows she has a soft place to land.
When Glitter Bats first started up, I had to work part-time at a bakery to pay for my own instruments, plus my share of the gas and food and hotels when we were touring. It meant a lot of late nights studying—and a dipping history grade that nearly cost me my high school diploma—but I pulled through. My dreams cost me a lot.
Carrie’s path won’t be easy, but if this can alleviate some of the stress, it was worth it. And I remind myself that’s why I’m here today. My students need someone who believes in them. But with my mind so scattered, even meditating on my reason for becoming a teacher doesn’t do much to hold my attention.
All I can think about is Valerie, and I have to force myself to focus on this meeting instead of wondering if she’s okay. There’s a new assistant principal this year, and he’s giving us a long post-lunch presentation about a lot of logistics, mostly review from the last few years. I’m in the back with Leah and the other fitness and arts teachers, and we’re pretending to pay attention but passing a doodle back and forth. When it’s my turn, I add Sebastian Bark to the pretty Oregon landscape the others have sketched.
When the principal starts to talk about our contracts, my palms grow damp. I don’t know why the idea of a contract I signed months ago is making me panic. I don’t want to take a pill in front of everyone if I can avoid it, so I just take a long sip from my water bottle and try to relax, my fingers playing silent piano scales on the table as I absorb his next words.
“There was an error back in May when you were all sent your contracts, so those have been voided after union review. It’s just a formality, but we’ll be distributing your new contracts via email today. Please use Adobe Sign and return them before you head home, otherwise you’ll be chased down tomorrow by Yvonne from the office and owe her coffee.”
Stilted laughter echoes around the room. They’ve got us packed into the cafeteria, which still smells like grease from summer school, but at least the tables are clean enough. The others dutifully open their laptops to sign their contracts, but I just stare at the desk.
“Dude,” Leah says. “You good?”
I swallow thickly. “Yeah, sorry, just…thinking.”
And suddenly it hits me: I had wanted to sign that contract at the beginning of this summer, but after everything that’s happened, I’m not sure it’s the right thing to do now. I love this job, I really do. But every minute I’m here is another minute I’m away from Valerie. She may have hurt me—again—but that doesn’t mean I’m ready to give up on her.
There’s a conversation we still need to have, and I can’t make any plans without it.
“I’m not going to sign the contract.”
“Oh my god !” Leah says. I blink up at her, thinking this is a reaction to my statement, but it’s not. She’s staring at her phone. “Caleb, have you been on social media at all today?”
“What? No,” I say, scowling. I’ve just made a potentially life-altering revelation and she’s staring at her phone?
She sighs. “Here!” She shoves her phone in my face, and I freeze.
Valerie has posted a photo from our magazine shoot that I don’t remember seeing before, but we look happy and in love, and the hope of it all makes my pulse shift into a higher gear. Then I read the caption, and it jolts me, like I’m slamming the brakes at an unexpected red light.