Chapter 31
Monday, you are a wench. Minutes before recess, the rain begins falling, mocking the tears that poured from my eyes all weekend. We’re stuck inside, which never bodes well for our afternoon. Without the outlet of actually running, jumping, and in some cases, slamming their bodies around, my students are tiny balls of accumulated energy. I do my best to get them to move by having a ten-minute dance party and saying things like “who can jump the highest?” or “how high can you lift your knees?” but for many of my students, unless they can zoom around like Gonzo chasing a toy mouse, they’re going to remain tiny kernels of unpopped corn.
During Choice Time, I sit on the rug, coaching in to block-play between Cynthia, Ricky, and Kevin because Ricky sometimes finds compromising difficult.
Ricky scowls. “I don’t want to make a stupid bridge.”
“Try asking him if he wants to work with the two of you or by himself,” I whisper to Kevin loud enough for Ricky to hear.
“Mr. Block says I’m supposed to ask you if you want to work with us or by yourself,” Kevin fumbles.
Ricky looks at me, and I raise my eyebrows to give him my best make-a-decision-but-make-a-good-one-because-I’m-watching look.
“By myself,” Ricky blurts out.
“Okay, and if you change your mind, ask Cynthia and Kevin if you can join them. Sound good?”
He nods begrudgingly.
Kate, Jessica, and Zoe are sitting at a table coloring and writing. Illona is at the table next to them, coloring and writing by herself.
“Hey friend, what’s up?” I ask her.
“Nothing. Just coloring.”
“Do you want to join the girls?” I nod to the empty seat at the table.
“No, I’m good here.”
Ever since Olan and I started “hanging out,” I’ve been extra careful about making sure my interactions with Illona at school don’t put any pressure on her or make her feel uncomfortable. It’s part of why I’m Marvin outside of school but Mr. Block here. When my students seem “off,” I want to know if there are any emotions I can help them process, but with Illona, I have to tread extra carefully.
“That’s fine. Would it be okay if I sat with you for a little?”
She nods. I grab a piece of paper, and because he’s my go-to subject, I start drawing Gonzo.
“What’s that?” I ask, nodding toward her paper.
“A picture for Daddy.”
Her fingers wrap tightly around a green crayon. She’s drawn a field and has begun sprouting flowers along the entire length of her paper, with pink, purple, and orange crayons patiently waiting their turn.
“I think he’ll love that,” I say.
Half of her mouth turns up in a hesitant smile, and she nods. For the first time since this all began with Olan, the unsureness of how dating her father might impact Illona in a negative way washes over me. Why didn’t I think ahead? I love all my students, and the prospect of hurting them brings me immense distress.
“Please remember, you can always talk to me if you need to.”
“I know.”
At dismissal, as I walk the pickups down, I roll my shoulders back and steady my breath in an effort to slow my heartbeat and ready myself to see Olan. We’ve had the entire weekend apart, and my conversations with both Jill and my mom have helped me finally register how much I actually care for him. No, how much I love him. And I need to tell him. It’s time to put my cards on the table and stop being afraid of what-ifs. Olan Stone is the kindest, smartest, sexiest man I’ve ever had the luck to be with and letting him slip away feels asinine.
We turn the corner, and Dr. Knorse and Kristi stand at the table, offering pleasantries as adults sign the large binders releasing their children to them. I scan for Olan, but he’s not here. I spot Cindy and she gives me a kind smile and a little wave. My stomach drops as I raise my hand to return the gesture. Where’s Olan?
Illona runs over and takes her hand. Of course, I wouldn’t dare ask Cindy anything. My stomach quivers and I scamper back to my cell phone in the classroom as quickly as my legs will carry me. No messages await me. My chest feels like a bear has selected the spot for hibernation.
Marvin: Didn’t see you at pickup. Hope you’re OK.
And I wait. I stay longer than typical, prepping the message for tomorrow and gathering materials for a math activity.
“What the fuck are you still doing here?” Jill asks.
At lunch today, I explained how I confessed my feelings for Olan to my mom and how I need to tell him. Soon. Jill knows I’m never here this long after the kids have departed.
“Olan didn’t pick Illona up. I texted him, but he hasn’t replied.”
“Oh, Marvin, damn, I’m sorry,” she says, sitting on the table nearest the door.
“I’m not sure what to do.”
“I mean, I think you just have to wait to hear from him.”
I pull my lips in tight. “Yeah, I guess.”
“Look, you’re going to tell him how you feel. It’s going to be okay.”
“I hope so.”
“Let’s go,” she tells me, and I grab my backpack. I want to believe Jill, but my stomach feels shaky and uncertain about why Olan didn’t show up and hasn’t replied to my texts. Perhaps the Prince of Blowing It will ascend to King.