15. Lina
FIFTEEN
Lina
“Are you alive in here?” I call into my mother’s kitchen.
Mai narrows her eyes at me from three feet away, sitting at the dining table in the kitchen and drinking tea. “I’ve fallen and I can’t get up,” she deadpans.
“Don’t joke about that,” I say, striding in and dropping my bag and wrapping her in a big hug. “I missed you. What can I get for you? Do you need groceries? Did you go to church already? I can take you.”
“You can start by giving me a few more hours of peace by myself, going upstairs, and unpacking your things,” she says with a squeeze. “I made dinner already. Come back down around seven.”
I’m already moving around the kitchen, washing spare dishes in the sink, opening the fridge, making sure the cabinets are filled with food.
“Lina,” she warns.
“Can’t I just enjoy my mother’s company? I haven’t seen you all week.”
“Can you come enjoy my company at dinner? In a few hours?”
“Fine!” I throw my hands up in the air and go to grab my things.
“You got a weird delivery yesterday,” she calls out on my way out the door. “I had the delivery man put it on the roof.”
“The roof?”
“That nursery in Red Hook dropped off a tomato plant?” she says in the form of a question. My stomach fills with warmth. “It’s big. And already filled with tomatoes, so you don’t really need to do anything with it. Maybe just water it a few times a week. The tomatoes are all mostly ripe and ready to be picked. I took some off,” she says, using her chin to point towards a bowl of cherry tomatoes sitting on the counter.
I’m already marching up the stairs.
Up, all the way up, and I push through the door and step out onto the aluminum rubberized coated roof, where a tomato plant, full of the small, cherry ones, stands about five feet tall.
There’s also an adorable watering can sitting next to it.
I sit right down on the roof to look at it. I feel like I’m glowing, with an actual light, like the actual sun.
This plant was delivered yesterday. Which meant Dom found time during an insane and sleep-deprived work day on Friday to get my address (which I wouldn’t put past Oliver to give away) and find the closest nursery selling tomato plants. Fully grown ones, mind you, because he probably figured out how busy I actually am and that I have no real time to grow an entire fucking plant from a seed but still wanted to help me achieve New and Improved Real Life Lina. Because I mentioned it to him in passing one time. A… week ago. Because he has probably listened to every word that’s ever left my mouth with that deep intensity he dedicates to everything.
I briefly consider sending a topless selfie of myself standing next to the plant, but I’m not sure what sort of privacy settings are on his phone, and it probably wouldn’t do for Frankie to see her assistant principal’s or her father’s new… fling? Girlfriend’s ?… tits.
Am I his girlfriend ? This brings a fresh moment of panic. From one tall, dark, handsome, and tattooed boyfriend to another? In the span of a week ?
Two weeks ago I had sworn off luxury yachts, and here I was, fourteen days later, riding on one. Literally. And it’s potentially my boyfriend.
I pull out my phone to ask him. Because despite my panic, Dom is actually calm, reasonable, and honest, and he will be able to clearly and directly define this for me and talk me off the ledge.
am I your girlfriend?
I like that he doesn’t play games and responds almost immediately.
Gang DILF Dom
I think that if there is a spectrum that goes
One-night stand
Friends with benefits
Dating
Relationship (boyfriend/girlfriend)
Partnership
Married
Then you and I would probably be somewhere in the “dating” section
I knew he was the right person to ask. But would I feel better or worse about myself if we were in the friends with benefits section? Then again, that wouldn’t be possible, because Dom made it very clear that it wouldn’t work for him. But how about for me? But I agreed to this. I said I would try. Because I do really like him. And he’s nothing like Mike. And he gets me functional gifts like a tomato plant because he is the King of Active Listening.
thank you for the tomato plant.
I was gonna send a selfie of me and the plant with my tits out but wasn’t sure what kind of access Frankie had to your phone
The next text comes immediately.
You’re welcome
And my phone has been locked with notifications blocked ever since an unfortunate incident when Frankie was two
are you asking me to send you unrestricted nudes
Begging
This goes straight to my nipples.
But also maybe a warning before you ever do. Just in case
Incoming
I set the camera timer for ten seconds, prop the phone on its pop socket, and lift up my shirt. I pick three tomatoes off the vine, put one in my mouth and wrap my lips around it, and hold two up in front of my nipples. I hit send.
Wow
wow???? That’s all you got?
I don’t think I’ve ever sexted before. The last time I dated may have been pre-cellphone.
ok you’re not that old
Well I certainly haven’t received a nude in a very long time. Can I save this? You look gorgeous.
I roll my eyes.
make a secret album on your phone for all the photos you’re going to get from me
Done
Okay, this is getting weird. Frankie has been trying to drag me to the grocery for the last ten minutes. I’ll call you after I put her down later.
I grin.
I pick a handful of tomatoes and go back downstairs to my apartment so I can put on some Bridgerton before dinner time.
* * *
Dom calls when I’m washing up the last of the dishes. My mother tries to shove me out the front door, but I turn around and head straight for the couch in her apartment instead. I kick my feet up.
“You know you have an entire home only one flight of stairs up?”
I shoo her away. “Hey, stud,” I say into the phone.
Mai goes still and narrows her eyes at me.
I shrug back at her.
“Hi, Lina.” I hear a smile in his voice, and it’s like being wrapped in a warm blanket.
“How was your ride back?”
“Totally fine. We listened to our R&B playlist the entire way,” he says. “Did you know that Erykah Badu is a certified doula?”
“…No?”
“Frankie went on a text-to-speech deep dive on Wikipedia when On & On came on. Could you imagine if Erykah Badu were your doula?” he asks in wonder.
I put him on speaker so I can quickly search this on my phone, scrolling through articles. “Wow. This Vogue article says that one of the first lessons Badu teaches her clients is ‘how to dismiss guilt.’”
“I need this advice. Tell me more,” he says over speakerphone.
In the kitchen, I see my mom turn towards the disembodied hot male voice, frowning at my phone.
“She says that—and I’m rephrasing here—as human beings, we often carry guilt, whether it’s feeling like we don’t know enough, don’t have enough, or simply aren’t enough. But by gradually shedding those layers of guilt, a parent can find greater ease in every aspect of his or her life—emotionally, physically, spiritually, and at their very core.”
There is a beat of silence.
“Are you okay over there?” I laugh.
“Just absorbing. And in awe.”
I take him off speaker. “Are you feeling lots of guilt throughout parenthood?”
“I think that if you looked up ‘parenthood’ in a thesaurus, the first synonym that would populate would be ‘guilt.’ Followed closely by ‘you’re doing it wrong.’”
I bark a laugh. “You know, something I’ve always told parents is that parenting is only hard for good parents.”
There is another beat of silence, followed by, “I also think that if I followed the path to enlightenment, I’d find you and Erykah Badu at the end.”
“I feel honored to hold any sort of distinction with Erykah Badu.”
“What’s your week looking like?” Dom asks, after a chuckle. “Do you have to go in tomorrow?”
“Yeah, I have to report all week. I guess I’m in charge of everything Back to School related. I think the superintendent will be coming in to meet me tomorrow to go over some things, but I’m probably going to have to do everything.”
“I told you that I’m annoyed for you, right?”
I ponder this statement, wondering what about the wording makes it feel like he’s on my side. “I really like that you say that you’re annoyed for me, instead of saying something that implies you know better than me, or what’s good for me. Like ‘you shouldn’t be doing that,’ or something.”
He hums. “Well, you obviously know already. I don’t need to tell you that. You’re doing it because you feel you need to, and because you’re a good leader and you know what’s required to run a school effectively. Why would I presume to know better than you? I know nothing about running a school.”
I am filled with warmth for the third time today. I am the sun.
“You’ll be in the building, right? Can I bring you lunch some time this week? Frankie’s at camp all week. I can probably take a lunch break one day.”
We simultaneously have the same realization.
“Or you could come over,” he says quickly.
“Or I could come over,” I say at the exact same time.
The rumbly growl laugh that comes over the phone makes me feel very upset that I am currently on my mom’s couch and a few feet away from her. “Well, that’s definitely happening. As many times as possible,” he says. “But also, I should probably come into the building so we can plan some of the Back to School events for families together.”
“Right.”
“I’m happy to take it on myself, but I’d love your input on things that have been successful in the past.”
“Is there a reason we can’t do that in your bed?” I whisper.
“Lina!” Mai yells from the kitchen. “Will you please take this upstairs?”
Dom chuckles. “Is that your mom?”
“Yes,” I grumble.
“Well then, I’m not going to say what I was going to say. But the extent of it is that we’d be too busy doing other things.”
“Fine,” I sigh. “Just text me tomorrow when you have a better idea of what your week will look like. I should know how mine looks by then, too. And then we can schedule all of our meetings .” I pour as much innuendo as I can into the last statement.
“Lina!” My mom sounds like she’s serious this time.
“I’ll text you. Have a good first day tomorrow,” Dom says with a laugh.
“Thanks. Night, Daddy,” I try.
He is silent. “I don’t think I like that,” he says, after a moment.
“Gang DILF Dom?”
“Overdone at this point.”
When we hang up, my mom is leaning in the doorway to the living room, arms crossed and eyebrow raised.
“Yes?” I ask her sweetly.
“Who was that?”
“The new guy I’m seeing.”
“You’ve been gone for seven days.”
“Yes.”
“How the hell are you already seeing someone?”
“He went on the vacation with us. He’s Oliver’s cousin.”
She shakes her head. “I thought you were done doing another man’s laundry.”
I’m outraged. “What the fuck, mom? You’re one to talk.”
Mai cringes.
I ignore this, still feeling incredibly defensive. Not for me, though, for Dom . “And he’s nothing like Mike, or Dad, for that matter. He has a job, for one. And is incredibly successful at it, from what I can tell.”
“Wow, the bar is real low,” she says matter-of-factly, mirroring Dom’s exact words from a few days ago.
“And he’s a dad,” I retort. “To one of the most well-adjusted five-year-old girls I’ve ever met. She’s brilliant and polite and sassy. And he raised her all on his own. Her entire life. He’s the PTO president at PS 2, for fuck’s sake. Along with owning several companies. He’s competent and kind and intelligent and hard-working. Dom is a real fucking man.”
“I thought you were finding yourself. Figuring yourself and your life out. Independent and on your own. And now you’re telling me you’re not only starting another relationship, but becoming a mother ? Saving two new lives, including one of a child ?”
“It’s not like that,” I fire back. “I’m not overextending myself for them. He’s not some clueless dad who needs a woman to save him or help him with all the child-rearing and house chores. They would be fine without me. They’ve been fine without me. He hasn’t dated for years. Because he didn’t want to take any time away from her. I had to convince him to even look at me.”
“Must not have been too much of a hardship for him, considering it’s been seven freaking days, mija .”
“I know what I’m doing, Mai. Just trust me on this one. You’ll change your entire tune once you meet him for even three seconds.”
“I just don’t want you to make the same mistakes I made.”
“It’s not going to be like that.” I’m becoming irate. “Dad was a fucking deadbeat. Dom is the opposite of that.”
She glowers at me, a hundred different emotions flitting over her face, but I refuse to take accountability for any of them right now.
“I’m going upstairs. I love you. But you’re annoying me and not being supportive right now. Goodbye.” I turn on my heel and leave.
* * *
Speaking of fucking useless men, Superintendent Daniels is one of the most incompetent idiots I’ve ever had the misfortune to know.
One of those administrators who made it to the top by knowing how to talk the talk to all the right people, but I’m almost positive he’s never spent more than a year in an actual classroom. As evidenced by all the bullshit suggestions he’s dropping about how I should run my school. Yes, I said it. My school.
Because after a mere hour back at work, after an hour of donning Work Lina, after an hour of having the merits of project-based curriculum mansplained to me by someone who has never stepped foot in a classroom, along with what a purchase order is and how I should reorganize my staff to “maximize funding” (read: increase teacher burnout and thus turnover), I’ve decided that I’m going to throw my hat in the ring.
I can’t take it anymore. I’m annoyed. Dom was right. This is annoying. I’ve been doing the job of a principal for the last year, anyway, so I might as well get paid for it.
But this requires a slight manipulation, a gentle touch. I have to play the game. I have to talk the talk.
“Superintendent Daniels, I’d like to throw my hat in the ring and be considered for the PS 2 principal position.”
All the gentle manipulation of a battering ram.
Daniels stops his Science of Reading monologuing to look at me.
I take the element of surprise and use it to my advantage, pressing forward. “I’ve worked my way up in this school for the last fifteen years, Superintendent Daniels. I’ve been a paraprofessional, a classroom teacher, and an assistant principal here. I have functioned as the acting principal for almost a year, ever since Courtney Thomas was removed from her post. I am deeply familiar with every single aspect of this school and what it takes to run it effectively.”
He tilts his head, assessing me. I don’t drop my eye contact. “After the disaster that was Principal Courtney Thomas,” he continues (which by the way, was entirely his fault), “we at the district office decided that the best course of action would be to hire an experienced, prolific principal, one with demonstrated success. I don’t believe our community would be happy with someone who has never been a principal at all.”
“Respectfully, Superintendent Daniels, again, I’ve effectively taken over as principal of this school for almost a year now, and I’ve had no complaints from our community since. Have you had any to the district office?” I press.
“No, I suppose not?—”
“I’d be happy to detail all the progress and ‘demonstrated success’ I’ve achieved here since Courtney Thomas was removed,” I say, pausing, “in the formal interview process. I can also formally answer questions and assuage some of the concerns or reservations you may have. But all in all, I firmly believe that I’m what PS 2 needs right now. Someone who is a long-term veteran of this community, with fifteen years of service towards it.”
He eyes me for a moment, and it’s like I can see the wheels working overtime in his head. “All right then, Lina. Considering that we haven’t yet found a suitable candidate, and school starts in a week, yes, I’ll allow you to move through the formal interview process.”
I expect to feel a flash of nervousness, but my immediate reaction is one of deep satisfaction. It’s obvious this is the right move for me. “Thank you, Superintendent Daniels. I’d like to get started as soon as possible.”
“The interview is typically six hours long, one entire work day. We could do it tomorrow, I suppose?—”
“We can’t forget that as the effective acting principal, there is an endless amount of work I need to complete this week before school starts. I have back-to-back meetings with School Foods, our custodial team, our finance team, the PTO, after-school programs. I need to program all nine hundred students into one functioning schedule. I need to reorganize our staff. Plan the first two days of PD for them?—”
“I know,” he cuts me off impatiently, as I give him a taste of his own medicine.
“I propose that we break up the interview process across three days, maybe at lunch time, when I have no meetings scheduled.” Because I’m Solutions Oriented Work Lina, now, bitch. And yeah, you’re gonna give up your cushy three-hour-long lunches to me this week, asshole.
Daniels nods slowly, mulling it over. “I’ll have to run it by everyone, but that could work. There are many people, different members of the district and the community who will be part of the interview process. I’d have to see if they’re available during those times, but I don’t see why they wouldn’t be.” Yeah, because you all have nothing better to do at lunch, up in your ivory tower district office.
I look at my watch and realize I have a meeting with one of our enrichment programs that starts… now. “Thank you for this opportunity, Superintendent Daniels.” I employ the foolproof strategy for politely getting people out of your office, one that Oliver taught me many moons ago, standing up and slowly walking towards the door. His body is forced to turn in his seat. “I’m really looking forward to this,” I say, opening the door and standing next to it. He stands up and straightens his suit. “Please let me know what day we can begin. I’m available for lunch every day this week.” I hold out my hand in front of me, forcing him to walk towards me, towards the exit, to shake it.
“I’ll be in touch,” he says, shaking my hand and walking out the door.
I don’t have time to process what just happened, because the wonderful woman who comes to PS 2 to run the Garden Program with our kiddos is standing just outside my office, ready for our meeting.
I squeal, unable to help myself. “Gladys!”
She wobbles over to me and wraps me in a giant hug, as much as her tiny, elderly body will allow. I have to bend at the waist. “Hello, beautiful Lina.”
I fucking love this woman. She’s been coming to our school for as long as I’ve been here to run a Gardening Class, teaching our kids about the native plants and bugs and critters you can find outside in our school garden. A garden she single-handedly created and curated and cultivated over the last twenty years.
She also may be one hundred years old. She’s a garden witch, in the best way possible.
“I brought you some fresh eggs from Cluck Norris and Henelope Cruz,” she tells me, referring to her chickens.
I practically carry her into my office, immediately in a better mood.
* * *
My phone buzzes an hour later, right after Gladys leaves my office. I glance at my phone. It’s Superintendent Daniels.
Greg Daniels
We’re all set for tomorrow, Wednesday, and Thursday at noon. We will come to you.
I stare at my phone. It’s happening then. I respond immediately.
Looking forward to it. Thanks again.
The first person I text is Oliver.
I’m going for principal position have interview tomorrow-thursday NEED ADVICE can I call you later
The first person I call is… Dom. But he doesn’t pick up, because he owns and runs several companies and is obviously busy. I text him to CALL ME .
And that’s all the time I have before my next meeting.