The SS Sunk Cost
Sumi
PinksPosies that doesn’t make me a fucking astronaut.
It wasn’t that Jordan was a bad boyfriend.
On paper, they were perfect — the middle school teacher and the educational activist.
They’d been together for three years, three years in which he had gone from the local school board to the state board, and as he inched closer to his own lofty political aspirations, Sumi had begun to consider if she was, for the first time in her life, nothing more than a bit of arm candy.
After all, she ticked an awful lot of boxes that played well with his constituency of middle-aged teachers.
She was plus-sized, both mixed race and mixed species, even if she was human-presenting, and she just happened to be toiling away in the very profession he championed. You’re the diversity hire girlfriend. That’s it.
Perhaps that was why this windfall seemed like such a life-changing opportunity.
Life-changing.
A life-changing opportunity.
No time like the present, Pinky.
When the door between the joint classrooms swung open, Sumi nearly fell off her chair in her haste to conceal her phone entirely, breathing a sigh of relief when it was only her co-teacher.
Meredith taught math, reporting that the kids were just as over-reliant on their phones to feed them answers in her class as they were in Sumi’s.
Sarcastic, with a caustic tongue and a very low threshold of patience for the this is the noblest profession! teachers’ union and school board, she and Sumi had become fast friends the instant their classrooms were paired.
“You know, if I inherited a million dollars from a strange relative, the very first thing I would do, without reservation, would be to buy my coworker a new car.
Like, the first thing I would do.
Before I even paid my own bills.
I think that says a lot about my character, don’t you?”
Meredith had perched on the edge of her desk, blocking out the trio of girls sitting in the front row, keeping their conversation as private as it could be amidst the cacophony of her chattering students.
Sumi snorted in response.
“Wow, you’ve really been giving that a lot of thought.
It’s giving sainthood, no question.”
“I know, so sigma of me.
The second thing I would do is turn in my resignation and walk backward out of Mark’s office, slapping my ass.
All the way down the steps, out the front doors.
They’d be able to hear me slapping on the other side of town.”
Sumi buried her laughter in her palms, squeezing her eyes shut.
This is your chance.
This is your chance to tell someone for real.
“Does that mean you’re not going to hold it against me if I’m not back next year?”
It was the best she could do.
She couldn’t bring herself to actually say the words out loud before she had officially resigned.
She knew the way teachers in this district gossiped, knew how fast the ignition turned on the gossip machine.
If she told Meredith, their room para would know before Sumi even cleared the doorway to leave for the day, half the building knowing before she hit the parking lot.
Even though she wasn’t coming back, she valued her professionalism enough to want the principal to hear it directly from her, and she didn’t want Jordan finding out through the whisper network.
At least .
.
.
she didn’t think she did.
“Girl, I’ll hold it against you if I do see you in three months.
Slap.
That.
Ass.
All the way out the door.“ Meredith scoffed, helping herself to one of the mini chocolates Sumi kept in a bowl at the edge of her desk. “Maybe you should take a year off and travel, see the world. Wait, will Jordan go with you?” Reading Sumi’s expression of uncertainty at the thought, she unwrapped another candy. “Good, that’s the right answer. You should buy one of those huge sunhats and sleep with a bunch of hot twenty-five-year olds. If you’re not being railed on your private sundeck by some unnamed stranger with a six-pack, what’s the point of anything.”
“I didn’t realize hot twenty-five-year olds were interested in middle-aged fat women.”
“They are when she’s loaded!” Meredith exclaimed from around her mouthful of chocolate.
They both quickly turned, checking to see if any students were listening in, but it didn’t matter.
Too engrossed in their phones, too deep in their own shrieking conversations to notice or care.
Meredith turned back, rolling her eyes.
“Don’t forget the luncheon today. Is Jordan going to be there?”
When she groaned at the reminder, one of the front row girls finally lifted her head, eyebrows raised in interest for a moment before turning back to her conversation.
“I forgot all about it,” Sumi admitted.
Mother fucker.
So much for taking another load of boxes to the house.
“I’m sure he will be,” she went on despondently. “Are you kidding? He could never resist a captive audience hanging on his every word about his favorite topic.”
“His favorite topic being himself,” Meredith put in helpfully.
“I could never bring Jordan on a trip like that.” Sumi felt her cheeks heat, emboldened by the conversation.
“Leaving work? With no one to impress? Who would he perform for? He’d wither like an orchid.”
The other woman snorted, taking another candy.
“Maybe there’s somebody else who ought to see you slapping your ass on the way out.
Just sayin’.”
“Maybe I just want to do some quiet, off the grid dream job,” Sumi blurted.
“Make jelly and bake pies.
I don’t know, maybe I’ll open a flower shop.
I love flowers.”
“I told my husband I wanted to open a bookshop after the kids are in high school.
I just want to sit and read, enjoy the peace and quiet, maybe have a little coffee bar.
He said I was describing a living room and those don’t make money.
Turned the den into a library for me; said it was cheaper.
He even put in a little coffee station. Seriously though, if I was in your position . . . I wouldn’t need to think twice about coming back. But really, a new car. The first thing I’d do. And make sure your replacement understands the way this works. They supply the candy, I eat the candy.”
She would stay friends with Meredith, Sumi vowed as the other teacher crossed the room, popping her last chocolate in her mouth before pulling the door shut behind her.
That’s what social media is for.
And you’re good at talking to people on that, at least.
She hadn’t told many people about the inheritance.
It had hurt, knowing there had been someone from her mother’s side of the family right fucking there all along, but there was no one to blame.
Her father hadn’t known.
The great aunt in question had never known how to find her.
When the probate paperwork had caught up with her, the documents originating from an office less than two hours from the house she’d lived in for more than twenty years, she had cried bitter, heartbroken tears, but now she was wrung dry.
No point in regret. Nothing left but the life savings of a frugal couple who’d owned their own successful business and a house in an affluent neighborhood of a town in the midst of a real estate explosion.
They all thought she was going to sell it.
Her boyfriend, her father .
.
.
everyone thought she would sell the house, put the money in the bank, and keep on living the status quo.
Everyone but ChaoticConcertina, who was enthusiastically supportive in her plan to run away and start her life over again.
After all, how could she not?
She was forty years old and felt as if she were being given a do-over of the last twenty years.
A docking of the SS Sunk Cost, a chance to do the job she’d always dreamed of doing, a chance to own a house, own a business, a completely fresh start.
A mulligan on her life, an opportunity to be happy rather than simply exist.
No time like the present, Pinky.
He was right, and so was Meredith.
Slap your ass all the way out the door.
It’s a big, bouncy ass, so they’ll be able to hear you coming all the way in Cambric Creek.
Pushing to her feet before the bell rang, Sumi idly wondered if she was going to regret it.
The clock was running down, and maybe she’d look back at this week wistfully once it was done.
Who knows? she thought, bending to retrieve a pen that had been pushed off the desk when Meredith rose.
Maybe once you’re out of here, it won’t seem that terrible.
Maybe you actually love these kids and you’re too close to realize it.
”Gyat!”
Her face flushed and her eyes narrowed as she snatched up the pen and straightened, whipping around to face the 12-year-old at the far corner table, smug in his exclamation over the bouncy ass in question.
She wouldn’t need a slang cheat sheet in her new life, she reminded herself.
Nope.
You’re not going to miss them at all.
Fuck these kids.
When the dismissal bell rang only a moment later, it was all she could do to call out to their backs, reminding them of the following day’s spirit week theme, sighing in relief when she was left alone in the classroom once more.
She only had to get through the rest of the week, and then she’d never have to think about any of them again either.
No cap indeed.
ChaoticConcertina: Today I was at the coffee shop the same time as a bunch of kids
Too young to drive, but apparently old enough to come to the coffee shop unsupervised.
Since when do kids drink coffee? Did YOU drink coffee when you were 14?
Am I the only one who missed out on a caffeine addiction in middle school?
Do we really want them MORE hyper?
Anyway
I moved to the end of the counter as the group of kids was leaving
And promptly put my hand in a puddle of something they left behind.
It was too thick to be water.
Was it coffee? Was it vomit? Snot? Some kind of dark matter secretion?
Did I put my hand in a puddle of puberty?
I don’t know, but I wanted to cry.
Is this what I have to look forward to in a few years with my daughter? Mystery puddles?
Why aren’t these kids in school?
ChaoticConcertina: You’ll get absolutely no judgment from me.
This is a judgment-free zone.
Would it have made a difference if you would have told the school 2 months ago?
You’re still leaving and they have all summer to fill the job.
Are you dodging mystery puddles all day?
If you are, I’d just walk out right now.
Fuck that place.
Your family and friends will understand.
This is a huge opportunity for you! Why wouldn’t they understand?
Remember, it’s a gift from your mom.
Don’t let it go to waste.
No judgment at all.
How many of us wouldn’t love an opportunity to hit reset?
ChaoticConcertina: Hey wait, do I get to help you spend the inheritance?
Because your collection desperately needs a red mambo
Oh, and some of those ridiculously expensive anthuriums.
I’d like to amend my answer.
If you don’t get some insanely rare, incredibly delicate specimen for your collection,
then ALL the judgment.
And yes to the lilacs.
Good luck letting the cat out! Can’t wait to hear how it goes.
It had become a part of their daily routine.
She would close the door behind the last student and flip off the lights, luxuriating in the silence and avoiding the congestion of the parking lot for a little while, settling back in her chair and reading his midday message.
Swinging the door shut after the last student went scrambling out of the room after the dismissal announcement, Sumi dropped into her chair with a grin.
Sure as clockwork, his response to her early morning whinging was there, causing a bubble of warmth to move through her as she grinned.
He was funny.
He was more than just a little dramatic.
He made her smile and laugh every single day, as she did then, the sound of it echoing in the empty classroom.
And he’s a stranger.
When was the last time Jordan made you laugh? Why haven’t you put this much effort into your actual relationship? Sumi pushed away the little voice, unwilling to entertain its treachery.
PinksPosies&Pearls: Yeah, it was definitely a puddle of puberty
You’re probably going to go through it again now
Get ready for your voice to move through three octaves in every conversation
Are you sweaty yet? Don’t worry, you will be soon!
Sorry, I don’t make the puddle rules.
Her grin faded slowly, remembering that she needed to put in an appearance in the teachers’ lounge, and that Jordan would be there.
Her stomach flip-flopped as she gathered her things, a quiver of guilt moving through her.
It’s not like you’re doing anything wrong.
You have a boyfriend.
He has a girlfriend. You literally don’t talk about anything that could get you in trouble. It’s not like you’re exchanging nudes and getting off together.
She knew her inner voice was right, but that didn’t prevent a tiny bit of guilt from gnawing at her conscience.
You’re guilty over everything else.
Guilty because you haven’t told Jordan the truth, that you’re selling this place and leaving town.
You need to rip off the bandage and get it over with.
That part was true, she was forced to concede.
She was tired of tiptoeing around the truth.
But.
The undeniable truth, Sumi was forced to admit, was that if ChaoticConcertina was someone in her actual daily in-the-flesh life, she couldn’t promise even to herself that they wouldn’t have already hooked up.
She was just a few feet away from the door to the lounge when her phone buzzed.
ChaoticConcertina: It’s a good thing I stand behind a tall counter most of the day.
The seconds seemed to audibly tick by as her eyes read his words, lips moving slightly as she repeated them in a murmur to herself before her brain latched onto the implication.
She honked like a goose, earning strange looks from her coworker exiting the lounge.
It was the very first time either of them had ever alluded to anything even remotely sexual, and she had inadvertently opened the door.
Sumi dropped against the wall, hand over her mouth as her shoulders shook in renewed laughter, warmth moving up her neck.
Not here.
Not now! Jordan’s here.
You have to wait until you get to your car.
The lounge was crowded with bodies, every teacher in the building seemingly packed into the tight space, along with the school board, pumping hands and tacitly reminding everyone that they existed.
If Jordan was there, Sumi knew she would not need to look hard to find him.
He would be where he was most comfortable — holding court in the center of the room, speaking on the subject over which he was most passionate — himself.
Sure enough.
“Did you happen to read the story they did about me in the Ledger? I wouldn’t say it was a hit piece, but it certainly wasn’t flattering, nor truthful.
They did mention that I went to Spencer, however.
So at least I got the impressive part in there, am I right?”
The collection of people standing before her boyfriend all laughed, right on cue.
Sumi hoped her smile did not resemble a grimace of pain.
That they were all human went without saying.
The entire teaching staff was.
There was one girl in particular, a petite blonde, staring up at Jordan completely besotted.
She was from the board, Sumi thought, recognizing the woman from a few of the meetings she’d attended.
“At least they managed to get your good side, Jordan,” another board member piped up.
“The photo is of your head and not your ass, even though that’s what you were talking out of the whole interview.”
Another volley of laughter amongst the group, as she slowly edged away, making her way to the food.
He won’t even notice if you’re here.
After all, he noticed so little.
Anyone with eyes could see the missing knickknacks and pots and pans in her kitchen, the pared down living room.
Are you really hiding anything if it’s happening out in the open?
Her thoughts turned almost involuntarily back to her phone as she picked up a square of cheese.
How she responded to his message could change the tenor of their conversations for good.
You might need someone to lend a hand.
Wouldn’t want you to get a cramp.
“Are you counting the minutes yet?”
Sumi jumped, nearly dropping her phone.
That’s what you get.
You’re in a public school, surrounded by co-workers and your boyfriend, and you’re thinking about offering a virtual hand job to an online stranger.
It was one of her coworkers, a teacher from the other team in her grade, piling tiny canapés on a paper plate.
The union had been providing a party tray of snacks every day for the last week, of which she helped herself to each afternoon before heading to the house.
A thank you for another great school year, they said.
Please be sure to cast your vote, she knew was the hidden subtext of the miniature quiches and carrot sticks.
“You know I am,” the other woman went on.
“The parents this year, I thought they were going to be the death of me.
One mother, she called every single week for a touch base.
Lady, your kid is already getting straight A’s.
How much more do we have to talk about?”
Relaxing into the commiseration, Sumi laughed, still gripping her phone.
She needed to put it away.
Jordan’s going to see you, and you know how he feels about people and phones.
And what if he says yes? Are you ready to follow through, trade nudes? What if it ruins everything?
“I already told my husband I’m not sure how much longer I can do this.”
Sumi raised her eyebrows at her coworker’s disclosure, sliding her phone into her bag.
This can wait.
She needed to think through how she would respond, and didn’t want to do anything hasty that would jeopardize a relationship she had come to depend on.
See? You’re not the only one who wants to walk out!
“What would you do? I mean, if you’re not teaching, what would you do instead?”
“Oh, I didn’t mean quitting,” the other woman laughed.
“Are you kidding? Between the two of us, we’ve got another decade on our student loans.
But I don’t think I can do middle school for another two years.
Especially with kids at home.
It’s so much grading, constantly following up with assignments they never turn in. You know how it goes.”
Sumi nodded, knowing all too well how it went.
“I used to do early education, and I would be happy to go back.
When you go home for the day, you actually feel like you’re off the clock.
Second-grade is the sweet spot.
You’re past the crying stage but most of them are still sweet enough.
These kids? With their hormones? I’m going to wind up in jail if I have to do this for another two years.”
The other woman paused to stuff her mouth with caramelized onion and feta cheese in puff pastry as Sumi sympathetically laughed her agreement.
Damned middle schoolers and their puddles of puberty.
“But if I weren’t teaching,” she continued around her mouthful, “I’ve always wanted to open a B&B.
But that would require a bigger house and nicer furniture and the desire to get up and make strangers breakfast.
But if we’re talking second life dream jobs, that might be it.”
“I’ve always wanted a flower shop,” Sumi blurted, heat spreading over her cheeks.
Why don’t you put it on a sign and start wearing it around, that might be less obvious.
“Just a little place, nothing too fancy or big, where you can stop in and get a bouquet to brighten your day.”
“That sounds so nice.
It can be on the same block as the big house for the fancy furniture I don’t have.”
“That speech was just riveting, wasn’t it? We’re so lucky to have someone like that on the state board.
There’s just so much riding on what happens next, don’t you think? Have you voted yet?”
The bespectacled older woman had come out of nowhere, appearing at their elbow.
Jordan must have given a speech, Sumi realized.
One that she had missed, dillydallying in her classroom, catching up on her messages from ChaoticConcertina.
Another tiny pang of guilt shivered through her as the older woman stuffed a miniature quiche into her mouth, waiting for someone to answer.
It’s giving emotional affair. Sumi said nothing, knowing her grimace-like smile probably made her look feral, annoyed at that treacherous little voice. You wouldn’t need to have an emotional affair if your emotional needs were being met. They’re barely being acknowledged.
She would tell her principal at the end of the week, she vowed.
The final week of school was a short one, then teachers had another few days cleaning out their classrooms.
Hers was already nearly empty.
She had already begun the act of permanently moving out, and was confident she’d have the entirety of her classroom in a box by the last day of school.
She could avoid the banquet dinner, the speeches, the union vote altogether. After all, what does it matter?
She hadn’t cast a ballot the last time the union had called for a vote on some contract issue either.
Instead, she had gone to a free floral arranging class being sponsored by the botanical gardens.
Sumi knew other teachers bolstered their degrees with drop-ins and lectures and workshops every few years, but she had never felt moved to do so.
Flowers and plants were what she loved, and if she had to spend her days breaking up fights and constantly asking her middle school charges to put away their phones at the school Monday through Friday, shouldn’t that mean the rest of the time belonged to her? To do what she wanted?
The class had focused on vase designs, something she could do in her sleep, and she had left in such a good mood that she’d decided to stop off and treat herself to a fresh manicure, not remembering that she had been meant to vote that day until the following evening.
Jordan had been incandescent.
He didn’t do anger.
Anger was ‘for people of a small intellect.’ He had never blown up at her, never raised his voice.
He didn’t need to.
The palette of his emotions were hued with sanctimony and disappointment, his metaphorical paintbrush dipping into indignation and self-righteousness like a seasoned master. He’d made her feel terrible without raising his voice at all, which was somehow worse than if he had simply argued with her.
When her team peer began to speak, Sumi made good her escape.
This room, she thought, making her way to the door, was full of teachers just like her on the surface — barely making ends meet as they bought supplies for their classrooms every year out of their own pockets, contemplating that they would likely be paying back student loans until retirement.
They were career educators, they gave everything they had to their students and schools, uncaring if they had sufficient retirement accounts or if they found themselves playing bouncer in the hallways more often than they actually taught anything.
She didn’t share their passion, had already mentally checked out of this job, and was ready to close this chapter of her life.
Close the whole damned book and pick a new one.
It wouldn’t do to go changing the type of relationship she had with ChaoticConcertina.
Not right now.
Not when she had come to rely on him so much to be her voice of reason, her therapist, the keeper of her innermost thoughts and dreams.
After she was gone, after she had settled into her new home and her new life .
. . maybe things could change. Their energies matched, at least, they did online. Compatible rizz for sure.
It was a bad idea to change anything now, but after she’d started over again . . .
she wouldn’t rule it out, Sumi thought, pulling away from the school, feeling the possibility of what the future held thrumming within her.
After you’re someone new, maybe he can be part of the new vibe. Deadass.