Love Lessons

Chapter Seven Fig

Chapter Seven Fig

Valerie

“Jesus Christ, Marquez! What the hell is this?”

It was the next day, and she’d forgotten all about the hamsters that were being delivered to the classroom today. She’d made

a deal with the local pet store to have them donate two hamsters and their food. At the end of the year (if the hamsters survived),

she’d return them to the pet store. The kids would love taking care of them in class, and they’d be okay staying alone throughout

the weekend, so long as they had enough food and water. She’d forgotten all about sending the consent forms home, and it was

Friday. That meant the kids could look but not touch... yet. She wasn’t normally so scattered but her brain had been all

over the place lately.

“Yay! It’s Simon and Garfunkel,” she said excitedly as she lifted the small cage. The kids hadn’t arrived just yet, which gave her a chance to set up the cage at the back of the classroom. She’d have the children help decorate and put the wheels and tubes into the big playpen where the hamsters would live for the next school year. “Thanks for bringing this over, Steve.”

“It’s my pleasure. Hope they make it all year.”

“So do I,” she said.

“Do they just die? How awful,” Andrew said. “Why would you inflict that sort of emotional damage on these kids?” He looked

horrified, and for a moment she wanted to keep up the ruse just to see him lose his mind. But that was the old Valerie. The

new Valerie wasn’t going to rile Andrew up. She’d show him her method of teaching so that he could understand her better.

And she, in turn, would have an open mind about his way of doing things.

“First, death is part of life. It’s a lesson, if it happens. However, they won’t die. I grew up with hamsters.”

“They’re distracting, and they stink.”

“They’re not distracting,” she said defensively. It wasn’t going to be easy having an open mind if his tiny little brain was

so closed. “The world is distracting, and they need to live with a thousand things going on around them—social media, the

news, friends, family, global warming. They need to put aside all the noise, the metaphoric hamsters, if you will, and focus.

Plus, it teaches them responsibility, accountability, and compassion. There’s a study about it. I’ll send it to you.”

“I don’t want anything to do with rodents, Marquez. I’m trying to mold young minds, not clean up hamster shit.”

“Language, Wexler!” she huffed. “I’m trying, but you make it very difficult when you refuse to compromise!”

“So, I guess you’re feeling better?” he asked sardonically.

“Not really,” she said, chewing on a saltine cracker a little more aggressively than she intended. She had a can of ginger ale on her desk. “But I’ll live.”

“More than I can say for those hamsters.”

“Hush,” she said, and crouched down to look at the new class pets.

As the kids began to stroll in, she handed the parents a consent form and showed them the animals at the back of the classroom.

He took one of the forms and read it. He was surprised at how detailed and thorough it was. It even had citations of the study,

which he made a mental note to read later. Some parents signed right away, while others took it with them to read over later.

The kids, on the other hand, were over the freaking moon. If they were unruly before, today they’d be out of control.

“Okay, class, let’s settle down,” he hollered.

“Relax, Wexler. Let them meet their class pets.” She reached into the cage and took one out. “Come over, everyone. But don’t

touch. This is Simon—he’s the one with the white coat and pink nose. And that’s his brother, Garfunkel—he’s the one with the

brown spots. They’re going to be here all year long. On long weekends and on winter and spring breaks, someone will be assigned

to care for them. Other than that, they’ll stay in the classroom. After all your parents have had a chance to review the consent

form, I’ll let you all pet them. Okay? Until then, look but don’t touch.”

There was a barrage of questions and yelling. They couldn’t pronounce Garfunkel, which was admittedly funny and put her back in a good mood. She turned toward Andrew when she heard him laugh.

“Is that a smile, Ms. Marquez?” he said over all the kids’ giggles. “I think that may just be the first time I’ve seen that

directed at me.”

She rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t hide the way his playful banter caused her smile to become even bigger. She turned her

attention back to the class. Andrew was too distracting, just watching her with his arms crossed over his broad chest and

his baby-blue sweater and navy trousers.

“Okay, okay, come on, kiddos. The morning announcements are about to start. Everyone to their seats,” she said, and the kids

all whined. She placed the hamsters back into the cage and locked it. “The excitement of it all will dwindle. You’ll see,”

she whispered to him.

The way they’d positioned their desks, it was impossible not to look at him all day. He was literally right next to her, and

all she had to do was turn her head to the left and he was right there. And he was always watching her. Not in a creepy sort

of way but in an uncertain way. As if he didn’t know how to approach her.

“What? You’re staring as if you want to say something,” she said without looking up. He turned his face back to the class,

who were not looking at the smart TV where the announcements were being shown. They were all glancing at the hamsters, which

were in the cage at the back of the classroom. “I have no clue how having a class pet will help anything, but this seems like

one of those times when it’s not worth the battle.”

“Smart man,” she said.

“How does the smell not make you nauseous when Play-Doh made you vomit all over me?” he asked while the kids were busy tracing

letters at their desks.

“Do not mention that word.” She looked immediately green. “I used to love it and now...” She covered her mouth and looked

as if she would throw up.

“Okay, okay. I’ll clear the closet of any claylike object during lunch.”

“Can you throw it away outside? In those big green bins that are not inside the school?”

He chuckled and nodded.

“I’d really appreciate that,” she said sincerely. “Like so, so much.”

He leaned back in his chair, crossing his feet at his ankles, his fingers interlocking behind his head. “Is there anything

else you need aside from the garbage and hamster situations? Because this certainly seems like I’m winning co-teacher of the

year.”

“If you really, really hate the hamsters...,” she said. She didn’t want to relent, but she didn’t want him miserable either.

“They’re already here. I can’t simply say no now after the kids have seen them. You’re a forgiveness-instead-of-permission

kind of person, aren’t you?”

“What can I say, Wexler? You’re a fast learner.”

He laughed loudly, and then they both turned their attention to the morning announcements, but there was a nice ease in the

air. As if a truce had been made.

Andrew

It was a teacher planning day, and the kids weren’t in school. Valerie wore jeans and a T-shirt that fit too loosely on her

body. She’d lost too much weight, in his opinion, and she also looked sickly. All he thought about, day in and day out, was

what she was going to do about the pregnancy. He wanted her to keep the baby so badly, but he also didn’t want her to feel

pressured. It was her decision even if he wished he could somehow persuade her. She’d be an excellent mother; she was patient,

kind, and fun.

Since she’d thrown the bombshell news at him, he’d become as intimately familiar with antacids as Carmichael was. Valerie’s

floral perfume always lingered close by. It was nearly impossible for Andrew not to stare at her all day. Was she okay? Did

she need water? Would she throw water over his head if he offered it to her?

Would he soon be a father or not? He wanted to scream. Instead, he bit his tongue and worked next to her, quietly, the only

sound the occasional rustle of a sleeve of saltine crackers or the hamsters spinning in their wheel. But the anticipation

was going to kill him, and he just couldn’t not talk about the giant elephant in the room for one more second. Andrew put

down his pen and swiveled his chair to look at her. “Can I ask you a question?”

Without looking up, she said, “Sure. But I don’t know if I’ll answer.”

“Fair enough,” he said. “Why are you opposed to motherhood? I know it’s not ideal, considering that we’re not together and this was unplanned, but when are these things ever planned. Some of the best things happen without any plans. Plus, of all the people I know, I would think you’re the most suitable.” That was the honest to God truth. The children loved her. She was caring and empathetic, not to mention jovial. “This is unchartered territory for me. I don’t know what I can ask or say. I don’t want to overstep, but this is going to impact my life too, and I just want to know if you plan to terminate the pregnancy or keep it. I’ll support you either way, but, Jesus Christ, the not discussing the topic is kinda killing me here.”

She hadn’t been going to the teachers’ lounge because she said the smells from the different foods being microwaved made her

nauseous, and he hadn’t wanted to leave her in the classroom alone. Why? He wasn’t sure. She wasn’t someone who needed help,

yet he wanted to help her.

That morning he’d brought in an assortment of pastries from a nearby bakery and different juices. He had hoped something in

the box would appeal to her, and she’d finally ingest something other than crackers and Sprite. When she’d asked why he’d

brought pastries, he had lied and said he’d brought them for the teachers because it was Vivian’s birthday. Vivian was the

fifth-grade science teacher. Andrew had no idea when Vivian’s birthday was. Hell, he barely knew the woman. But he couldn’t

think of another lie. He just wanted Valerie to eat. She looked miserable.

His ploy had worked, a little. She picked a croissant and apple juice, thanked him, and spent the rest of the morning picking at the pastry. He made a mental note that she wasn’t opposed to eating croissants and that apple was her juice of choice. Now, midday, the woman was back to saltines and soda.

“That’s the most words I’ve ever heard you say,” she said, still not looking up from her papers. “You say I’m suited for motherhood,

but why? Because I’m a teacher?”

He’d almost forgotten the question, she’d taken that long to reply, and he’d said so many things in one breath.

“Uh, yeah, I would think that as a teacher, you’d like kids. But also because you put your heart and soul into it. You connect

so well with the children. You’re whimsical and... I don’t know, childlike.” Before she opened her mouth to protest, he

reworded it. “Not childlike. What I mean is, you’re a free spirit. Hell, you looked as awed by the hamsters as the children.”

She finally stopped working and turned to him. “But that doesn’t make for a good mom. That makes for a cool aunt or an awesome

godmother.”

“You don’t drink and you don’t even curse,” he said, almost as a last resort. How could she not see what a good mother she’d

make?

“I do drink but I’m careful not to overdo it because my father was an alcoholic,” she said without any emotion.

“Oh, I—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“No, it’s fine. When he was sober, he was my favorite person in the world. He loved football, the—”

“Miami Dolphins,” they said in unison.

She chuckled. “Yep. My mother worked so many hours, and he was my primary caregiver for a long time. He would yell and curse when he drank. It wasn’t all the time, at first. When it got out of hand, my mother left him and took me with her. So cursing isn’t my thing. It reminds me of bad times.”

He had a sudden urge to hug her and ask more questions. How bad were those times? Had he abused her? This was such a personal

conversation, and he felt out of line continuing it. Andrew was completely speechless. His childhood was as ideal as one could

be. He didn’t think placating words were the correct thing to say. He couldn’t tell her he understood, because he didn’t.

So he said nothing.

She smiled. “Relax, Wexler. It was a long time ago. You look horrified.”

“I am. Not at the situation but that you went through that. I’m so sorry that happened.”

“There are worse things. When he was good, he was the best, and I try to focus on those days. But as you can see, I’m not

really buying the perfect-family scenario. Why bring a kid into a world like this, ya know?”

He didn’t reply. It was a minefield, because they weren’t friends, and their relationship, if he could even call it a relationship,

was so undefined. But if she kept the baby, they would be in each other’s life forever. He wasn’t even sure he wanted to be

that intertwined with her, but he was sure that he did want that baby. He wanted it more than anything.

He took a bite of his sandwich to stop himself from prying further, and after a heavy minute of silence she started to speak

again.

“I know you don’t understand, but being raised by a single mom is hard, and a child deserves better.”

“But it doesn’t have to be that way. There’s a lot of children from divorced families who grow up just fine. You turned out just fine.”

“So, I have the baby, and you’re in the picture for a while, and then you meet someone and get married. You’ll have your own

family and you’ll inevitably forget about this little mistake. I was daddy’s little girl, we did everything together, and

then when my parents divorced, I saw him a handful of times after and then that was it. Last I heard, he remarried and made

a new family. I saw my mom struggle all my life. I didn’t have the best experiences with stepfathers or her boyfriends. I

don’t want that for my own child. Until you came over the other day and told me about your parents, I didn’t even know anyone

who had loving parents who stayed married like that.”

“I would never abandon my child. Regardless of whether I married later on in life. I could have ten children and this one

will still be as important as the other ones. I swear to you,” he pleaded. “I am not a man who abandons responsibilities.

Not ever. You will be in my life forever, and I’ll take care of both of you even if we’re not together. I won’t let you or

the baby down. Not ever.”

Her lip wobbled a bit, but she quickly masked that glimpse of vulnerability. “Well, even if I did believe that, there are

other reasons.” She sighed heavily. “I’m selfish and like my quiet time. I sleep in, I can be messy, I eat ice cream for dinner

sometimes. I like music played loud, and sometimes I like to dance in my underwear, and I don’t dance well, but I do it anyway.”

He laughed at her admission. The woman, albeit a pain in the ass, was enchanting. He understood why people loved her. She

was unapologetically herself. He’d never met anyone like that. “You turned out all right, Marquez,” he said again. “Aside

from it all, you’re a good person. You’re successful, people love you. Well, most people...”

She smiled and playfully tossed an eraser at him. It was the first thing that she’d grabbed, and he was relieved it hadn’t

been scissors. “Seriously, you may not be my personal cup of tea, but you’re a lot of people’s cup of tea. But my opinion

is irrelevant. I’m grumpy. I don’t count. I don’t like tea. I’m a coffee guy.”

She smiled and began to pack up her bag of crackers.

“You should really try and eat something. You can’t live on saltine crackers.”

“Just not feeling so great.”

He stood, grabbed one of the children’s chairs, and put it in front of her. Then he grabbed her ankles and lifted them and

placed them on the chair. “Put your feet up. Relax. Have some more soda.”

“Uh... okay. Thanks?”

“Did you like the croissant this morning? There must be something you’re craving that won’t make you feel ill?”

“Not really. I had been craving my abuela’s lentil soup, but it’s so much work and—” She yawned. “I have to go buy the stuff

and then make it and it’s more trouble than it’s worth.”

He turned to his desk and grabbed a notebook and pen. “How do you make it?”

She eyed him curiously.

“Seriously. Tell me. I’m a good cook. Actually, without meaning to sound arrogant, I’m an excellent cook.”

“And you’ll make it for me? Me? Your arch nemesis? You’re going to make me lentil soup like my Cuban abuela used to make?”

“Yes. Tell me.”

“First, you have to put on a mint-green bata de casa with little yellow daisies on it and tune the radio to Celia Cruz. Without

this, it won’t work.”

“A bata what?”

“A bata de casa. It’s like a woman’s housecoat. It’s something old Cuban women wear around the house. My grandmother always

wore the same one when she cooked. She also put on an apron. It’s part of what made her soup perfection. And then Celia Cruz

or Arturo Sandoval played salsa in the background. And you have to dance while you cook.”

He laughed loudly. “Housecoat and salsa dancing. Got it.”

Valerie took out her phone and scrolled. When she found the recipe she’d copied from her grandmother, she sent it to him.

He pulled up her message. It was a picture of the recipe that had been handwritten on a napkin. The shaky way the letters

looked, he was sure it had been handwritten by her abuela.

He pinched his thumb and forefinger over his screen and expanded the photo. “What is ajo?”

“Aaa-ho,” she said, pronouncing it phonetically. “It’s garlic. And the word spelled a-j-i is bell pepper and it’s pronounced

a-hee.”

“Got it.” He opened up his Instacart app and began to put items in his cart. He had a question every few minutes and eventually slid his chair next to hers so she could help him translate the words. She also laughed a few times at his pronunciation and then corrected him.

“I don’t know how I feel about you cooking for me, but I’m going to accept it because, I swear, I cannot eat one more freakin’

cracker. I’m both starving and disgusted.”

“I think I can have it ready by seven. I’ll bring it to you later tonight if that’s okay with you?”

“That works for me,” she said sweetly. He liked when her smile and sweetness were directed at him. “And, Andrew?” she said.

“I really do appreciate all the things you said. I heard them. I just need to make this decision on my own time, okay?”

“Okay.”

As soon as he finished correcting papers and inputting grades, he said his goodbyes to Valerie and drove home. He was eager

to start cooking. She couldn’t live on crackers and soda, and he had an overwhelming desire to take care of her and their

baby for whatever time he had them. He also wanted her to know he was in this with her.

While the soup simmered, he took a shower and did a load of laundry. He tasted it a few times; he wasn’t a huge fan, but it

wasn’t his craving, it was hers, and if this is what she wanted to eat, then this is what he’d make her. Apparently not all

women craved pickles and ice cream; some craved lentil soup.

When it was finished, he placed it in a big glass container and sent her a text.

Andrew: Hope you’re hungry.

Valerie: I’m not

Andrew: Maybe if you taste it...

Valerie: Wexler, I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but honestly, I don’t think I can eat a thing.

Andrew: You said you were craving your abuela’s lentils.

Valerie: But you’re not my abuela. Did you even dance?

Andrew: You bet your ass I did. Plus, I followed the directions exactly. I’m coming. You’ll at least smell it, which may whet your

appetite.

Valerie: I’ve already thrown up on you once. What’s a second time?

Andrew: That’s the spirit.

Andrew was nervous when he arrived at Valerie’s apartment. He really wanted her to eat something hearty and healthy. He was also winded. Apparently, he was out of shape, and those five flights took a toll.

“Hi,” she said when she opened the door. She was in loose cotton shorts and a T-shirt. Her black hair was in a messy bun,

most of her short locks falling out of the hair tie. Her cheeks were sunken in, and she looked so thin, it concerned him.

He kept that to himself.

“Okay, look,” he said, walking right in and making himself at home in her kitchen. He opened drawers and cabinet doors until

he found a bowl and a spoon. “Just smell.”

She winced.

“Come on...” He opened the container and steam billowed out. It was still hot, and the smell wafted out. She made a disgusted

face, but just as he was about to close the lid, she got closer and took a big inhale.

“Oh.” She sniffed again. “Oh!”

That was good. This was progress. He hadn’t been vomited on. An improvement. He scooped up a little soup in the spoon and

brought it to her mouth. Hesitantly, she opened, cupping her hand under the spoon to avoid the soup spilling. She closed her

eyes and let him feed her a small taste. They both waited for a reaction.

“Oh. It’s good.”

“I told you that,” he said smugly.

“Well, I don’t know your cooking abilities. It could’ve been all talk.”

“You’ll learn that I don’t make promises I can’t keep,” he said. “Can I serve you a bowl?”

She waited a moment. “Yeah, that’s... I can eat that.” It was funny how she reacted, as if she had no control over her

body and they both were waiting for this third entity to make a decision.

“I’m so relieved,” he admitted.

“I can do it myself, Wexler.” She rounded the counter to walk into the kitchen. “You want some too, right?”

He placed his hands on her shoulders and turned her around and pushed her gently out of the kitchen. “I’ll serve you. Sit.

Relax. You’ve been living off crackers. You need sustenance.”

“Fine. Fine.” She sat down on her sofa cross-legged.

Careful not to spill any soup, he walked slowly as she put one of the three million decorative pillows on her lap. He placed

the bowl on it. Then he rushed back and brought her a spoon, a napkin, and a Sprite.

“How about you?”

“I’m good. I ate something while I waited for this to cook. If you eat this and it agrees with you, I’ll make you some every

day.”

“I don’t think that’s necessary, Wexler.”

Because she wasn’t keeping the baby? He didn’t want to ask again, but his face must have been readable, because she added,

“Because I’m sure there’s a pill or something they can give me for this. I’m not going to feel like hell for the entire pregnancy.

And yes,” she said, taking a spoonful, “I’m keeping the baby.”

He let out an audible breath. “What changed?”

“There’s a baby in my belly. It’s making me sick, but it’s there and it’s mine and I just can’t imagine it not being there. It’s weird. I can’t make it make sense, but I love it already. I’m scared out of my mind and I don’t know if I’m making the right decision. I don’t know if I can give it a good life. Take care of it. But I’m really, really going to try. What you said today, it stuck. I can do this. We can do this. I mean, we’re already hamster parents. How much harder can it be?”

He couldn’t laugh because there was a lump in the back of his throat the size of a golf ball. “I’m going to be a dad.”

“Yep.”

“And you’re going to be a mom.”

“Oh God...” Her eyes watered and she pushed the half-eaten bowl away and onto the coffee table. “This was not in my plans.”

“We plan, God laughs. That’s something my father always said.”

“And you’re the father to my baby. You. We didn’t even want to be five feet from each other and now we’re going to be stuck

in each other’s lives forever. Forever and ever, Wexler. You and me.”

She was spiraling. It was obvious. He slid down and knelt in front of her.

“What are you doing?” she yelled. He’d done this once already, and she didn’t like it. It freaked her out, and regardless

of their current situation, he still enjoyed driving her crazy. There were so many things that freaked her out, and he couldn’t

wait to learn each and every one of them.

He laughed loudly and took her hands in his. “Relax, Marquez. I’m not proposing, you nut. I want you to know that I will be

a good father and co-parent. You’re not alone in this. We’re in this together. The past is the past. We’re going to get to

know each other, for the sake of this baby, and we’re going to get along.” He squeezed her hands.

“But as co-parents only. We’re incompatible and would never work as anything other than that.”

“We’re not completely incompatible. I mean...” He looked at her flat belly and then winked.

She playfully shoved him. “You know what I mean.”

“I know what you mean,” he said. They were incompatible in most every way, even if they were very, very much perfect sexually.

She was beautiful, but that night was a one-off. Sex did not a relationship make. Eventually the passion fizzled out, and

then they’d be left with nothing else. They had a big adventure ahead of them, and the last thing they needed was to add romance

to the mix.

“And you’ll keep making me food?”

“Until death do us part.”

Valerie

I miss the old classroom. Do you think they’ll plant another tree? I miss the tree.” Her eyes misted. Damn hormones. After

the delicious soup Andrew made for her the previous evening, she thought she’d feel better this morning.

She didn’t.

Her stomach was in knots. She felt bloated and just... ick.

Plus, she’d gone from morning sickness to tears. She’d woken up with a lump in her throat when she thought about Andrew cooking

for her the previous night. That had been over-the-top sweet. No man had ever done that for her. Then she teared up when she

saw her crotchety downstairs neighbor, Mr. Benowitz, drop his mail on the floor. When she’d tried to help him, he grumbled

at her.

Would that be her in forty years? Old, alone, grouchy, and refusing help from strangers? Then she full-on sobbed when “All I Ask” by Adele played on the radio on her way to work, even if that wasn’t exactly an anomaly, since everyone cried at Adele.

They’d just been talking about Theo and Harper, two of the children in the class who kept arguing. That morning Theo had broken

each and every one of Harper’s crayons because Harper had called him a boogerhead. There had been zero mention of trees.

“Weird change of topic,” said Andrew. “But okay... Um, I think that if they did plant a tree, we’d be long gone by the

time it grew to the size of Ol’ B.”

That made her misty eyes actually shed tears. “Time is so fleeting, isn’t it? We’re just a small speck in the universe. Ol’?B

was here one day and then gone the next, and now we won’t even be on Earth long enough to see another tree grow. And that

jersey... it was a gift from my dad and it’s gone. I was going to replace it, but it’s so expensive, plus it’s not the

same. It wouldn’t come from my dad; it would come from a stranger in North Dakota. Why does some guy in North Dakota even

have a Dan Marino jersey? Weird, right?”

She was all over the place. “I didn’t know you that well before the pregnancy, so I don’t know if this is normal Marquez or

pregnant Marquez. Have you always been philosophical? Or emotional?”

“A little.” She pointed to her flat belly. “He’s making me sentimental, it seems.”

“He?”

“Yeah. He.” She looked down at her belly. “I’ve decided it’s a he. I don’t like calling it it . And ‘she’ didn’t feel right. I feel like it’s a boy. Don’t you? Like, in your bones? Don’t you feel it’s a boy? I can’t

know for sure until the ultrasound, obviously, but I feel it, you know?”

“Uh...”

“He’s making me emotional.”

Andrew laughed. “And a little weird,” he added. “But I’m glad you’re growing fond of the bean.”

“It’s the size of a fig, not a bean, and, yeah, even though I think he’s trying to kill me, I have grown fond of him.”

“Hey! Stop that,” Andrew said, and rushed over to Theo and Harper, who were each tugging one end of a ruler.

“That’s my ruler,” Harper yelled, her ponytail swinging left and right like a pendulum.

“No, it’s mine,” Theo screeched.

Valerie stood. “Stop it immediately.”

“I want you both to go sit in the time-out chairs for a few minutes and cool off,” Andrew said.

Both Theo and Harper stomped to opposite sides of the room and sat on a time-out chair. Both with arms crossed and heads down.

“What is the deal with those two?” Valerie said.

“We should sit them apart.”

“No. You can’t avoid everyone you don’t like,” she said.

“Sure you can,” he added. “I avoided you for four years.”

“And look what good that did.” She smirked. “Let them cool off, and then they go right back to their seats. Getting along

is not optional.”

“Okay, but if one of them ends up with a ruler across the face, don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he said.

“I’ll make sure to stop them before there’s blood,” she said. “I’ll walk them to the lunch room.” She started to stand, but

he stood up first.

“Nah, stay. I’ll walk them over. Be right back.” Then he turned to the class. “Lunchtime, kiddos. Straight line by the door.”

All the kids began to grab their lunch boxes and line up to walk to the cafeteria with Andrew.

Valerie was opening up her sleeve of crackers when Andrew walked back in. “When is your next doctor’s appointment?” he asked.

“Is it normal that your morning sickness is lasting all day?”

“Next week. But apparently some women have morning sickness their entire pregnancy. Can you imagine?” And then she started

tearing up again.

Andrew looked like he wanted to be anywhere but there, and she didn’t blame him. No one liked an emotional woman, she thought.

To his credit, he didn’t bolt. Instead, he rolled his chair closer to her and ran his hand up and down her back, soothing

her. “It’s going to be okay. You’re going to be fine. This will pass.”

“How do you know this is going to pass, Wexler? Have you ever been pregnant?” She glared at him. This was all his fault. “Look

what your stupid sperm is doing to me. I can’t be crying in front of the class!”

He chuckled. “What I’m trying to say is that this can’t last forever. At most, it’ll be over in nine months.”

“Super helpful. You can tell the kids that their teacher has something in her eyes every day. I’m sure the parents and Carmichael will be cool with it. And surely I can just buy a nine-month supply of saltine crackers and Sprite and I’ll be good. Because it’s only nine months.” She threw her hands up in the air. How absurd could the man be? Was this his way of making her feel better?

“What the hell do you want me to say? This sucks ass. You’re miserable, I’m miserable watching you be miserable. I hate that

you’re going through this. I wish you were back to your old self. I’d rather you be bitching at me than crying every five

minutes. But this is the hand you’ve been dealt, and I’m trying my best to make it as easy as I can for you even though I

really don’t know where to start.”

“That is so nice,” she said. He was so supportive. He was trying his best, and she wasn’t making it easy for him, but she

was uncontrollable. He looked so helpless and kind, and then the real waterworks started, and this time they didn’t end until

she was home in bed with her Sprite and crackers.