Chapter 8
Olan: Illona told me “Mr. Block did his best with my hair” and man you gave it your best shot.
Marvin: OMG I’m sorry. You might think teaching kindergarten I’d have learned how to braid and do ponytails. You’d be wrong.
Olan: Don’t be so hard on yourself. Braids and ponytails are next level tricky.
By the middle of January, Illona has been at school for a couple of weeks and the kids have bounced back to pre-December levels of routine. Illona has seamlessly become an integral member of our community. It warms my heart how she and Cynthia have become fast friends. The rest of the class welcomed her quickly and fiercely too. It reminds me of what a loving and empathetic group of children they are. Sure, there are moments I feel like I’m about to lose my shit, like when Sophia threw up all over her entire table during Writing Time. The aftermath was devastating enough I had to throw away four writing folders and all the work inside. Her table mates were not amused, but nobody wants vomit-covered stories. Even though bodily fluids are par for the course in kindergarten, it was not cute.
Besides Sophia’s puking incident, the days churn on in typical kindergarten crazy fashion. Adding the Teacher of the Year requirements and deadlines into the mix only intensifies the mayhem. My essays and peer reviews were turned in last week and the county winner will be announced on the thirty-first, which is next Monday. Yikes. Having no clue what my chances are, I try my best not to overthink it, but knowing the school’s staffing hangs in the balance makes it difficult.
Olan’s frequent messages are a welcome distraction. The texts have gradually increased in volume, and at this point, I’m fairly confident we are more than acquaintances, if slightly less than actual friends. We may not chat on the phone or get together outside of school, but he texts daily, and I’ve even messaged him a few times unprompted. The cool demeanor from our first meeting has melted away to reveal a caring, thoughtful man. He’s almost charming and definitely harmless.
Is having a straight, single, gorgeous man as a friend new for me? Sure, but maybe I’m evolving? Do I read too much into his messages? Duh. Being unattached and almost thirty, sometimes you have to create your own entertainment. Illona mostly centers our conversations, and I’m not worried our kinship would be viewed as inappropriate. I’ve checked the employee handbook. Four times. There are no rules against fraternizing with parents, let alone dating one. I’m not sure I’d even classify us as friends. Yet.
Mondays are always arduous for me to get my ass up and out the door. Today, feeling recharged from a weekend cuddling with Gonzo on the couch, I’ve come in ready to tackle the day with a positive attitude. The children arrive, and their sweet faces bring such joy… even on a Monday. We go through our typical routine, sharing about our weekends at Morning Meeting (Ricky made slime), and by mid-morning, we’re ready for a break outside – Maine winters be damned.
Jill and I huddle on the blacktop, trying to stay toasty in the direct sun, flanked by packs of children yelling as they zoom by us. The rhythmic swoop of the swings swaying back and forth draws my attention, and I wave to Cynthia.
“The sun feels nice. It’s almost warm,” I say.
“Yeah, the snot in my nose isn’t completely frozen solid today.”
“Gross. But also, same.”
“Nick and I painted our bedroom this weekend. I was getting tired of staring at the bright red accent wall he thought was a good idea.”
“I told you not to let him binge Queer Eye . Poor guy. How did you get him to relent?”
“I told him red makes me angry and asked why he’d want me angry in the bedroom and he caved.”
“Smart man.”
My phone vibrates in my pants. Slipping my mitten off, I take it out to see who’s texting me in the middle of the school day. Seeing Olan’s name pop up prompts my heart to gallop in my chest, creating a surge of warmth against the crisp air.
Olan: According to a little bird, your coffee is usually cold by snack time. I’m out for a meeting and dropping you off a hot refill in the office. How do you take it?
Marvin: Thank you, that is beyond nice and also totally unnecessary.
Olan: I insist. How do you take it?
Marvin: Just one sugar. I’m sweet enough on my own.
Olan:
“Who was that?”
“Nobody. I mean, it’s nothing.”
“Does this nobody’s name rhyme with Rollin’?”
Jill’s face breaks into the widest grin, her eyes glistening in the direct sun.
“Maybe. Okay, yes. He’s dropping a coffee off for me in the office.”
“Are you kidding me? That is beyond sweet. Wait, I want one too. Text him back.”
“No way. It’s done. I’ll share mine with you.”
“A hot coffee. You realize he likes you, right?”
“Of course he likes me. I’m his daughter’s teacher, and his daughter loves school. Even I can do that math.”
“I think he might like you a little more than in a my-daughter’s-teacher-is-fantastic way, but what do I know.”
Jill’s words make my stomach flip. Part of me wants her to be right, but the thought of Olan having more than friendly feelings for me also makes me incredibly anxious. I don’t need to be catching feelings for anyone right now. And a parent? Oy. Rationally, I know there’s nothing imprudent with romantic sparks between a teacher and parent, but I’m conflicted about how others might view it. Other teachers, Dr. Knorse, the TOY folks – what would they think?
“We’re friends. Or becoming friends. Or friendly. Friends do nice things for each other. Like, bring each other coffee.”
“Okay, Marvin. Sure. Whatever you say.”
Crash! Olivia, Martha, and Taylor zipping around roaring like lions, or tigers, or maybe bears, come crashing into me with the force of three stampeding baby hippos.
“Mr. Block, we’re playing tigers!” Martha yells.
Ah, so that’s what tigers sound like.
“Well, tigers, it’s time to line up, I’m about to blow the whistle.”
My hand grabs the keys in my coat pocket, yanks them out, and blows the whistle as the children sprint to the line. We head inside, taking the long way past the front office, so I can grab the coffee Olan’s left with Jean. Spotting the familiar white cup with Olan written on it, my lips curl up thinking of him waiting in the coffee shop for it. Along with the steamy sweetness, his thoughtfulness warms my entire body to the core.