Chapter 26
TWENTY-SIX
MELISSA
“So, are you going to see the plastic surgeon again?” my mother asks innocently. “What did you say his name was?”
It’s Monday afternoon, and my mother and I are watching Liam play at the park.
She didn’t have a chance to grill me when I picked the kids up from their sleepover yesterday morning, so I wasn’t surprised when she showed up this afternoon.
And now that Liam’s busy on the playground, she’s trying to fish for information.
And I’m not fooled by the casual nature of her questions. There’s no way she’s forgotten Austin’s name; she probably googled him as soon as I mentioned him. I bet she’s read his RateMD reviews, too.
I keep my reply vague. “I’m not sure if I’ll see him again.”
“So you liked him?”
“Very much. He’s a gentleman.”
“It was a surprise to see Luke Carlton at the restaurant,” Mom persists. “He seems to be doing well.”
“Mmm-hmm,” I say. “I was surprised to see you at the restaurant, Mom.”
Mom has the grace to blush a little. “I knew the restaurant would be busy, and I didn’t think you’d see me.”
“Uh huh.”
“I was worried about you, Melissa,” she says, a little defensively. “It’s been years since you dated, and with everything you read in the news—”
“And you thought the restaurant would be dangerous,” I say skeptically. “Or did you follow us home, too?”
“No, I thought that Luke . . .” she starts, then trails off. Her blush deepens a little.
“What was that, Mom?”
“I thought Luke might follow you. Did he?”
“It’s none of your business, Mom.”
When I was debating whether to move back to Somerset, one of my fears was that my mother would try to manage my life.
She’s a naturally confident person, the type of mother who always thinks she knows best. When I was a teenager, she had strong opinions about my clothes, my friends, and what I should study at university (something easy, so I’d have plenty of time for Luke).
And since I don’t like confrontation, I rarely argued with my mom, but I didn’t always do what she wanted.
In fact, sometimes I went the opposite way, just to make a point.
When I was sixteen, Mom mentioned how pretty my long hair was, and even though I liked it long myself, the next day I had it cut to my shoulders.
Nothing too radical or rebellious—it wasn’t like I shaved my head—but enough to prove I had a mind of my own.
And I think one of the reasons I studied computer science in undergrad was my mother was dead against it.
So sometimes when my mother’s involved, I have a hard time figuring out what I want.
And if I tell her I’m dating Luke again, she’ll probably turn cartwheels (with all her Pilates, she probably could).
She’ll hint I should exercise more, so I can keep him hooked.
And she’ll probably try to invite us both for dinner, so she can tell us she approves of the relationship.
And this relationship—this second chance with Luke—is too important to let my mother interfere in it.
“What do you mean, Melissa?” Mom asks. She looks hurt and surprised; this might be the first time in my thirty-one years of life that I’ve told her something isn’t her business.
I take a deep breath. “Mom, I love you and I know you mean well, but I’m not going to talk to you about Luke. Or anyone else I date, unless it gets serious. I promise I’ll be careful, especially with anyone who’s going to meet the kids.”
“Of course,” Mom says, a little too quickly. “I understand, Melissa. But I’m your mother, and I’m trying to be supportive—”
“And you’ve been a great help,” I tell her. “You and Dad both. I want you involved in my life, and with the kids, but I need a little more space.”
My mother nods, but I can tell she’s unhappy about it, and as soon as we’re done at the park, she leaves to go home.
Even though I don’t want to discuss Luke with my mother, I’d like to discuss him with someone. So when Sophie Kaminsky texts to ask how things are going with Austin, I invite her to come over tonight. She’s willing to come to my place again, so I won’t have to find a babysitter.
Over diet Cokes and a plate of chocolate chip cookies, I tell her about the hockey game and the dinner at Mickey’s. When I tell her that Luke showed up, she practically does a spit take.
“What?” she asks when she recovers. “Like coincidentally, or he knew you were there?”
“I think Austin told him where we were going.”
“Wow.” Sophie’s eyes widen. “Luke was jealous! Did he try to join you?”
“No, he just stood at the bar and stared at us. And then my mother showed up.”
“No!” Sophie exclaims. “Oh, Melissa, she didn’t.”
“Yes. She did. She walked right up to Luke, struck up a conversation. Probably looked like she was trying to pick him up.”
“So what happened?”
I shrug. “Austin spotted Luke and guessed we had a history.”
“How’d he take that?”
“Pretty well, actually. I realized I had to have it out with Luke, so Austin drove me to his condo.”
“When you say you had to have it out with Luke . . .” Sophie lets her voice trail off suggestively.
“We talked quite a bit.” We also did other, more enjoyable things, but that’s going to stay private for now. “Luke told me he didn’t get into med school in Toronto.” I pause and study her face. “But you knew that.”
“Yeah,” she admits. “When I was in fourth year undergrad, I went to a med school info night. A bunch of med students talked about their experience with applications, and Luke was there.” She sips her wine. “I think he got into five or six schools. Toronto was the only one that rejected him.”
Well, that’s interesting. Luke had other options, but he chose a school close to Toronto. Where I was.
I give in to temptation and take a second cookie, vowing to be extra good tomorrow. “I really thought he got into Toronto, but stayed in Somerset because he wanted to end things with me.”
“I don’t think that was it at all.” Sophie takes a sip of wine. “You know, Melissa, a lot of girls were interested in Luke when we were in med school. He dated a few of them, but I don’t think there was ever anything serious.”
That’s interesting too. I’d always assumed Luke would move on quickly, but apparently he didn’t.
“So you and Luke are back together?” Sophie asks.
“Well, we’re dating.” I take another bite of my cookie. “I told him I’d like to take it slow.”
“Slow,” she repeats, as though she doesn’t understand the word.
“Yeah. Slow. Get to know each other again.”
“Right,” Sophie says, but she’s looking at me like I’ve grown a second head.
“What?”
“Melissa, Luke is clearly into you. And if a man like Luke Carlton was into me, I’d want to take it as fast as possible.”
“Yeah,” I admit. “But I just got divorced, and I have to think about the kids, so . . .”
I let the sentence trail off. It’s a weak argument.
“I guess,” Sophie agrees, but I can tell she’s not convinced. We finish the cookies and she goes home shortly after, leaving me alone with my thoughts. And my fears.
I told Luke I wanted to take it slow because of my kids, and it’s true, but it’s not the only reason.
The bigger reason—the one I don’t want to admit to myself—is that I’m afraid to trust Luke with my heart.
Luke and I have always had a connection, a click, that’s hard to explain and even harder to find. Two halves of a whole.
It was never like that with Troy, and I think that made it easier for me to survive the divorce. When I learned Troy was cheating, it was more of a hit to my ego than to my heart. Sure, my heart was bruised a little, but mostly I was hurt and humiliated.
But if I start a relationship with Luke Carlton and it doesn’t last, my heart won’t be bruised, it’ll be broken. Luke has the power to destroy me in a way no other man could.
I lie awake for a long time.
The following morning is hellish. Liam refuses to put on pants and Claire can’t find her backpack, so we’re late getting out the door. Claire’s late to school, Liam’s late to preschool, and I’m exactly two minutes late to work.
And of course, the students notice. As I rush in, Vanessa Abernathy glances at the clock and mutters, “finally.” Her friend Kaitlin Carmichael giggles.
I launch right into the lesson, but Vanessa and Kaitlin continue whispering and giggling until I reach the limit of my patience.
“Did you have a question, Vanessa?” I ask.
“No, Ms. Lawrence,” she says, insolently. There’s an emphasis on the Ms., and it comes out a drawn-out Mizz.
“Okay. Then do you want to tell us how you would approach the problem?”
“Actually, I do have a question,” Vanessa says. “What’s the point of this? Like, when are we ever going to use calculus?” She pops her chewing gum defiantly, and I have to stifle a laugh. Vanessa’s like the stereotypical bitch of every teen movie, but she doesn’t realize she’s a cliché.
And I’m done putting up with it. I deserve to be here. I’m good at math, and I spent half an hour preparing this lesson. I’m not going to let a seventeen-year-old brat like Vanessa Abernathy intimidate me.
I sit on the edge of my desk. “That’s an excellent question, Vanessa,” I begin.
“And the truth is, I don’t know if you’ll ever use calculus.
You can’t predict what knowledge is going to be helpful to you in the future and what isn’t.
When I was your age and studying math, I never dreamed I’d ever be teaching it. I planned to found a tech start-up.”
A few of the girls giggle, and I try not to be insulted.
“I’m not kidding,” I tell them. “I studied computer science at the University of Toronto. But instead of a career in tech, I got married and had a baby. My husband earned a great salary as a lawyer, and I was a stay-at-home mom for nine years. I don’t think I used calculus once.
If you marry well, you could be set for life. ”
I have everyone’s attention now, probably because this isn’t where they saw this talk going.
“But there’s always the chance your marriage won’t last,” I continue. “It happened to me. My marriage ended when my husband had an affair with my daughter’s figure skating coach.”
I see eyes widen around the room. I’m not sure if they’re shocked that my husband left me or that I’m willing to tell them about it. “So we got divorced, and I got a fair deal in the settlement. I was lucky. My husband pays me enough support that I don’t have to work.”
The room is silent now. I don’t think I’ve had such a focused group since I started teaching.
“But I’m still thankful to have this job, and I wouldn’t have it if I couldn’t teach calculus,” I tell them.
“I like being able to earn my own money. It’s something that doesn’t come from my ex.
And this way, if my ex-husband loses all his money in a Ponzi scheme, I might still be able to support myself. ”
“What’s a Ponzi scheme?” Kaitlin asks, and I see some confused looks around the room. We should really teach basic financial principles before worrying about calculus. In a way, Vanessa has a point, but I’d never admit it to this class.
“A Ponzi scheme is a kind of fraud,” I explain.
“You give your money to a company to invest, and they promise a really high rate of return. It seems too good to be true, and it is. Because instead of investing your money, they use it to pay dividends to other investors. And eventually, they run out of money and the whole thing collapses. People have lost millions in these schemes.”
“That’s horrible,” Kaitlin comments.
“It is,” I agree. “And everyone thinks they’re too smart to be a fraud victim, but a lot of smart people get scammed.
So even if you have a trust fund or plan to marry rich, it never hurts to have an education.
Math may come in useful in ways you never expected.
Maybe one day you’ll be dating a tech billionaire, and your knowledge of calculus will set you apart from all the other women vying for his attention. ”
This draws a laugh.
“Or her attention,” I continue. “Because maybe that tech billionaire will be a woman. Maybe it’ll be one of you, and maybe you’ll have used your knowledge of math to make it happen.
Or maybe you’ll make a discovery that will improve people’s lives.
Or become a teacher and inspire the next generation. ”
I set my whiteboard marker on the desk with a click that sounds loud in the silent classroom.
“But the reality is, once you finish high school, most of you won’t use calculus again.
So what’s the point?” I pause for a moment, letting my gaze wander around the room.
“Maybe the point is just to stretch your brain.”
My gaze stops on Vanessa. She meets my eye squarely, but her expression has lost some of its insolence.
“But if math still doesn’t interest you, I invite you to leave.
And if you don’t want to leave, I suggest you shut up.
Because the girl sitting next to you might want to learn, and she doesn’t need the distraction. ”
No one leaves. In fact, no one so much as twitches—the girls seem to be paralyzed. After a beat of silence, I pick up my whiteboard marker and finish the lesson.
As I leave the school to pick up Liam, I drift down from the high that comes after a successful vent. Vanessa may complain—I more or less told her to shut up—and if she does, I may lose the job. Without a teaching degree, my position at Brookline has never been very secure.
But if I could go back in time and do it over, I’d probably do the exact same thing.
And I realize I want to tell someone about it.
And not just anyone; I want to talk to Luke. As soon as I’ve parked in my driveway, I pull out my phone and text him.
Me: Want to come over for pizza tonight? With me and the kids.
I don’t expect to get a reply right away—after all, he might be operating—but my phone pings almost immediately.
Luke: What time? I’ll bring dessert.