Chapter Twelve
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Jason
I lean against my desk surveying my glittering, candy-strewn classroom with a weary but fond smile.
Little hands, sticky with glue and dusted with a rainbow of fine particles, are diligently attempting to adorn cardboard boxes with construction paper, candy hearts, and a truly excessive amount of glitter.
The air hums with the concentration of my kindergarteners, punctuated by the occasional frustrated puff of air when a candy heart decides to make a daring escape from its adhesive grip.
Brianna, bless her enthusiastic soul, has managed to glue a candy heart directly onto her own nose, a tiny, sweet constellation shimmering in the classroom light.
Across the room, Liam, usually a whirlwind of energy, is painstakingly arranging a single, perfectly placed sticker on his mailbox, his brow furrowed in concentration.
Beside him, Markeisha is attempting to create a glittering wonderland, her mailbox already resembling a purple disco ball under construction.
I kick off my desk and chuckle softly as I carefully navigate the minefield of rogue glitter and candy hearts, my own hands already dusted with the remnants of my students' creative fervor.
Beautiful chaos.
Valentine's Day in kindergarten, a symphony of sticky fingers, sugary declarations, and the sheer, unadulterated joy of making something special.
I kneel next to Sam, whose mailbox is leaning precariously to one side, a testament to his boundless, if unrefined, artistic vision. "That's a very…unique structure, Sam," I tell him with a gentle voice.
Sam looks up at me and beams with a wide grin, holding up his mailbox that is adorned with slightly squashed candy hearts. "I'm gonna make a card for my mommy next. One with extra glitter because she likes sparkly things."
I ruffle Sam's hair, a fine mist of gold glitter puffing into the air. "That's fantastic! She's going to love it." I pull out the seat next to him and sit, my knees folded against my chest in the tiny chair. "I know I would," I lean over and whisper to him.
"C-can I-I join you?"
I look up from Sam's project at the shy voice I barely heard from the noisy classroom.
I feel my eyes crinkle at the corners when I smile.
Standing beside me, holding a slightly crumpled piece of red construction paper, is Abi with her bright eyes and shy smile. She often observes the class more than she participates in it. For her to seek me out like this, my heart flutters with fondness.
"Of course, Abi," I reply, keeping my voice warm and inviting while I pull out the chair next to me.
"There's plenty of glitter and candy hearts for everyone.
What kind of card are you thinking of making?
" I gesture to the overflowing supply bin in the middle of our work table.
"We have red and pink paper, heart-shaped stickers, and even some sparkly markers if you want to add a little bling bling," I finished telling her with a wink.
Abi's face lights up, and she carefully places her construction paper on the edge of the desk before trying to smooth it out with her little hands.
"I want to make a rainbow heart," she whispers, her voice barely audible above the excitement buzzing around us.
Her small fingers are already reaching for the glitter markers.
I enjoy a few more minutes with this particular group before I give my final words of encouragement to continue their excellent work.
I stand to check on the progress of the other students.
While admiring the creative mailboxes that will soon hold cards and candy from their classmates, a warm wave washes over me.
Amidst the delightful chaos, Ben pops into my head.
Littles love glitter and messes. I make a mental note to pack away some of these supplies to take home tonight for my Valentine's Day playdate with Ben.
Since we are a relatively new couple, we decided to have a playdate instead of a big romantic gesture.
A wistful smile touches my lips.
I continue to weave my way around while my six-year-olds showcase their creations.
As excited as I am about tonight with Ben, this vibrant, glitter-dusted scene of pure creation and friendships is the very heartbeat of my world.
A symphony of little triumphs and whispered secrets that I wouldn't trade for anything.
Ben
The crisp February air does little to alleviate my internal flutter as I pull up to the local elementary school.
I'm from the city where there are several.
But, this town seems to have only the one.
The sign out front claims that it's Rockport Ridge Elementary and serves grades K through five.
A wave of nervous energy washes over me as I make my way to the front entrance.
Columns painted to resemble oversized pencils greet me as I press the button on the speaker to be let inside the building.
I clutch the box containing a few flower arrangements. The one that Jason made for Grayson sits next to the carefully constructed bouquet, a riot of crimson roses among the wildflowers and delicate pink carnations, destined for Jason's classroom from me.
"Those are stunning," the older woman sitting behind the counter tells me as I sign the visitor log.
"They're for…um, Jason." It just dawned on me that I don't know his last name. "And this one," I take out the plant for Grayson, "Is for Grayson Michaelson."
The woman, Beth, whose name tag reads, takes it from me.
"Would you like me to deliver those as well?" she asks, pointing to the arrangement for Jason.
"Is it okay if I drop them off personally?"
"I think he would rather get them from you than me." She winks and gives me directions to the lower-grade wing of the school.
I hear the laughter and giggles coming from an open door, and when I look up, I see that it is room 103. Mr. Caldwell. Jason Caldwell. A grin spreads over my face as I make my way to the doorway and freeze at the scene before me.
A war zone is less messy.
Jason's classroom is a cheerful space bursting with crayon-drawn hearts and construction paper creations.
Leaning against the door frame, I watch for a moment as Jason has his back toward me.
He's expertly guiding small hands through the delicate art of cupcake frosting, and my heart warms at the sight.
He's so gentle and patient. The perfect daddy… err, teacher.
The children, their faces smeared with sugar and delight, clamor around him, their laughter a joyful chorus. Jason's patience is more evident when he kneels, offering gentle encouragement and a steady hand; his demeanor is soft, a reflection of his genuine affection for his young students.
My chest has a pang of something akin to envy, a longing for that easy connection.
The sight of Jason so at ease, so naturally engaging, makes me wonder if I should be here. Maybe Beth can deliver these to him later when he's not busy.
I stand up straighter, ready to move back down the hallway, but my feet won't move. I just keet watching Jason in his element. A little girl with one long blonde braid notices me and walks away from the group.
"Hi." She says with a small, shy voice.
"Hi there. Looks like you all are having fun." I squat down to her level.
"The mostest. Those are pretty flowers. Are they for Mr. Caldwell?" She giggles.
"They are. But I don't want to interrupt your party." I whisper.
This little girl doesn't give me a chance to escape before she calls out, "Mr. Caldwell. You got flowers!"
The whole class turns in my direction and starts cheering as if I just announced Jason won a free pony ride. I feel the blush crawl up my neck.
"Ben?" Jason stands with a huge grin. "What a surprise. Class. This is my good friend Ben. Can you all say hi?"
In a big group chorus, the whole class says 'hi' to me. But it's the comment from one little boy that grabs my attention when he asks out loud if I am the person Jason made his card for.
"I was making a delivery for a couple of the other teachers, and Beth in the office said that I could bring these to you personally. I hope that's okay." I tell him while looking at my shoes.
He lifts my chin with his finger and thumb. I thought he was going to kiss me right here in front of his students, but he pulls back a little. "It's more than okay. Do you want to join us? We are frosting cupcakes."
Yes. More than anything, yes. However, I have to decline, even though I can see the sadness on some of the students' faces.
"I'm sorry, I have more flowers to deliver. It's a hectic day for us." Disappointment flashes across Jason's face for a moment. But he understands.
"Are you…Are you still coming over tonight?" Jason hesitates, a hopeful smile playing on his lips. "You know, for our 'playdate'?"
The carefully planned "playdate" is our agreed-upon compromise for a first Valentine's Day, a gentle step into something new.
"Yeah, Jason, I'll be there," I tell him, stepping forward and handing him the flowers.
"Just wanted to drop these off. You were great with them, by the way.
" I gesture toward the kids with a fond smile.
When he turns back to me to say goodbye, I can't help but widen my smile at the frosting on Jason's face.
This minor, endearing imperfection makes me feel even more at ease.
Jason's eyes crinkle at the corners, "Thanks, Ben.
I love them. And I'm really looking forward to tonight.
Just us, no pressure, right?" He glances back at the classroom, then back to me, a hint of playful mischief in his eyes.
"Maybe we can even have some of those cupcakes.
Assuming they haven't been completely devoured by tiny, frosting-covered hands. "
I chuckle; any anxiety I was holding onto dropped off, dissolving completely, replaced by a warm anticipation for the evening ahead.