Chapter 32
Cindy picks Illona up all week. There’s no communication from Olan. No reply to my text. No call. No carrier pigeon. No skywriting. Nothing. Not hearing from Olan, not seeing him, makes the tiny cracks in my heart splinter and expand. My body yearns for him. To be close. To kiss his soft lips. To hold him tight. The desire to text, call, or show up unannounced at his house nags at me, but I also want to be respectful of his feelings, especially around Illona and recovery.
“Fuck his feelings. You need to fight for him!” Jill declares over lunch on Friday.
I pick at my cheese sandwich, eating the slices of Swiss slathered in mayo and leaving most of the cold bread. My stomach lurches at the thought of carbs, a telltale sign of heartache.
“Go to his house, bring a boombox and blare a love song over your head. Make a grand gesture, Marvin. This is the point in the movie where you step up and go to battle for love.”
“Can we please talk about something else?”
“No. Marvin, you love him. You love him. He’s Tevye and you’re Goldie.”
“Wait, why am I Goldie? Why can’t I be Tevye? ‘If I Were a Rich Man?’ That’s my song. He’s literally a rich man already. Why would he ever sing that song? Plus, he’s much more reserved. He’s totally Goldie.”
“Fine, you can be Tevye. I don’t care. The point is you love him.”
“I do. I really do. But is that enough?”
Jill puts her fork down on her half-eaten lasagna, reaches over, and takes my hand.
“Marvin, love is always enough.”
* * *
Friday morning, as I’m setting up for the day, Dr. Knorse strides into my room. She never pops her head in to say hello or asks if it’s a good time. When she needs to talk, she enters, sits, and demands you stop and give her your full attention.
“Marvin, Happy Friday. I wanted to chat about the Teacher of the Year ceremony.”
Next Thursday night, we’re scheduled to attend the banquet where all the candidates and finalists gather to hear a few marginally famous (nobody outside the state would know them) local celebrities speak, and the winner announcement happens. With everything that’s happened recently, the entire Teacher of the Year contest has been the last thing on my mind. At this point, the decision has likely been made. Worrying about it won’t do much to help, but I muster up some enthusiasm for her because I know she’s concerned about what it means for the school.
“Of course. Did you receive the tickets?” I ask.
The committee mailed tickets and the plan is for Dr. Knorse, Kristi, and Jill to join me.
“Yes, secured in my office. I thought it might be nice for us to meet here and drive over together. The ceremony starts at seven thirty, so we can meet in the school lot at seven.”
“Yeah, sure, I’ll check with Jill,” I say, assuming she’s already checked with Kristi.
“Good, very good. I have a good feeling about this. Well, have a great day and weekend.” She clasps her hands and leaves.
I think about the banquet. Butterflies swell in my stomach. A few months ago, I was beyond jazzed to be nominated, and the entire process has been rewarding, if somewhat stressful. If I win, there’s a whole litany of responsibilities and affairs, some of which require traveling to Washington, D.C., for national events. And there’s the funding. Dr. Knorse needs this win. No, the school needs the win. It will impact our entire community. Even though I should be laser-focused, there’s no denying I miss Olan.
I’ve been trying to hide my somberness from the children all week. Fake it till you make it, blah blah blah. I’m certain they know something is afoot because they’ve been on their best behavior and extra affectionate. More requests to hold my hand usually means they’re on to me. Illona seems to be more herself, and that pleases me. I have no idea if Olan said anything to her, but my gut tells me at most, he said something simple like, “Marvin and I are both busy, so we’re taking some time to focus on work.”
She hasn’t said a word to me about her dad, and it definitely wouldn’t be appropriate for me to inquire, so I just smile and enjoy my time as her teacher. Walking down to pickup, she takes my hand. I look down, and she smiles up at me, using her tiny hand to squeeze mine.
“Thank you,” I say.
“For what?”
“For being such an amazing kid.”
We turn the corner. A flush of adrenaline tingles through my body, and the desire to drop Illona’s hand and run floods over me. Behind the long metal table, waiting patiently, stands Isabella.
“Mommy!” Illona shouts and darts over to her, latching on to her leg.
Cindy picked Illona up all week, and there was no note or email to me about a change for today, and well, I’m not sure what to make of Isabella’s surprise appearance. Didn’t she fly home just a week ago? Isn’t it expensive to fly across the country? Who am I kidding? These people don’t think about things like the cost of airfare. She probably flies first class too. Champagne and caviar dreams and all that.
“Hey, honey, surprise!”
“I wasn’t expecting you!”
“Well, I told your dad not to tell you. I wasn’t sure I’d arrive in time to pick you up, but here I am.” She pushes a stray strand of hair from her face and looks up at me. “Mr. Block, I was wondering if we could have a chat?”
My head feels light, and my ears faintly ring. Oy gevalt.
* * *
Illona tackles the monkey bars, a recently mastered feat she would gladly perform all day long. Isabella and I stand on the playground’s perimeter, far enough away to be out of earshot but close enough to supervise. A few other children play under the watchful eyes of their grown-ups gathered closer to the school.
“Surprised to see me?” Isabella begins.
“I mean, yeah, for sure. Didn’t you just go home?”
“I did. It was such a lovely visit. I know I told you this, but I’ve never seen Olan so carefree. He told me how much he cares for you.”
My heart trips at the thought of Olan talking to her about me. About us.
“But a few days ago, Cindy reached out to me, concerned about him. I called, and he told me what happened. I can’t help but feel like some of this may be my fault.”
“No. Really, it’s not. You were so kind and sweet. It was all me. I just heard those things about his past and, I don’t know, something crunched inside me. And, well, I’m sure Olan told you.”
“He did. And that’s why I’m here.”
“You flew back? To talk to me?”
She flashes a slight smile.
“I flew back to see Illona. And Olan. This chat is an important add-on. Especially if you’re going to be a part of her life.”
I pull my lips in and nod. Not sure what to say.
“You know, Illona’s here because Olan told me he couldn’t do this without her. It’s not ideal. I definitely don’t love it, but also, I know she’s a Daddy’s girl and Olan needs her more right now. They need each other. We’re figuring it out, but I’m always going to spend as much time as I can with her, even if it means I’ll rack up a ton of frequent-flier miles.”
She turns to face me, her damn gorgeous hair out of control thanks to the offshore breeze. She grabs a hair tie from her wrist and wrangles it into a tight, high ponytail.
“Marvin, I’m here because I love Olan.”
My stomach drops. Does she want him back? Her hands smooth the front of her purple paisley dress until they land on the belt, drawing her waist in. “Olan is such a good man. He cares for you. Yes, he told me, but he didn’t have to. I saw it in his eyes. The way he stares at you. He looked at me that way once. We grew apart. It happens. Thankfully, we’ve been able to remain friends. I’m here as Olan’s friend. He needs you.”
“I’m not sure what to say.”
“Then listen. I want to tell you what happened last year.”
My eyes widen. I open my mouth to speak and quickly close it.
“Our business was thriving, but I knew we needed a break. Olan struggled with stepping back, and well, selling seemed like the fastest way out. There were offers to purchase it, but he refused to entertain them. I knew, deep down, the demands of running such a huge company were taking a toll on him. He was relentless. It wasn’t healthy.”
Isabella glances down. She rubs the back of her neck and then looks over at Illona, offering her a small wave before returning her attention to me.
“He went to an investor dinner while I stayed home with a sniffly Illona. These dinners were often overflowing with alcohol. It’s a little insurance to help the investors, well, invest. It had never been an issue for him before, but that night, apparently, the stress and temptation were too much. Our split came not from his drinking but from his dedication to bettering himself. We’d been growing apart. I knew he wasn’t happy. He needed to be on his own for a bit.”
I’m trying to absorb this but my head is woozy, and I take continual deep breaths to steady myself.
“In hindsight, he knows throwing himself into the company with complete abandon wasn’t healthy and at least partly contributed to the relapse. Stepping away, taking some time, and moving, he’s clearly so much happier without the stress of running a multi-million-dollar company. But you’re a huge part of it too.”
“Wow.” It’s all I’ve got. This explains why Olan was so forceful about my dedication to teaching. And the award. He doesn’t want me to repeat his mistakes. Oof.
I turn my head toward her, lift my chin slightly, and give her the beginning of a smile. She’s wrapped her arms around herself and meets my grin with her own.
“You make Olan happy. That’s what matters. Olan is the father of my child. We’ve been friends since high school. I’ll always love him.”
“But I don’t know what to do. He told me no.”
“Because he’s doing what he always does, taking care of others. He’s worried about Illona. He’s worried about you. He doesn’t want to hurt you. But Marvin, Olan wouldn’t hurt a fly. He’s a remarkable man.”
“I know,” I cry a little too loudly, and some of the other parents shoot us a look. “So, what do I do?”
Isabella is the last person on earth I thought I’d ask advice from, but here we are.
“Next week is his one-year anniversary of being sober since the relapse. Go to his meeting. If you showed up, that would mean the world to him.”
“Oh.” I’m going to have to think about this. “When is it?”
“Thursday.”
An AA meeting. And, of course, it’s on Thursday, the same night as the banquet, because the universe clearly enjoys testing me. My head stirs and swells.
“What time?” I ask.
“Seven.”
“I guess I need to think about it.”
“I won’t say anything to him. He doesn’t even know I’m here talking to you. It can be our little secret.” She winks at me, and I can see the love she truly has for Olan sparkle in her eyes.
“Illona, honey, let’s get going!” she shouts across the playground.
“Thank you.”
“No, thank you,” she replies. She lays her hand on my shoulder and gives me a quick peck on the cheek. Her lips are soft on my skin, and the smell of flowers and money swirls in my nose. She pulls away, and I lift my hand to touch where she kissed, fairly certain she left some of her lipstick there.
She jogs over to Illona, takes her hand, and moments later they’re gone. I swear, this afternoon could not have played out any more differently than what I’d expected. My head spins. What should my next move be?
* * *
“Marvin? What’s wrong?”
Calling my mother two Sundays in a row definitely warrants that reaction from her. It’s unheard of, preposterous, but desperate times and all.
“Hello to you too, Mom. I just wanted a chat.”
“Oh. Okay. How are you? Did you talk to, what’s his name again, Orion?”
I crack a small smile because how she managed to transform Olan into Orion, the God of Hunting, escapes me but also smacks of Sarah Block.
“Not yet.” I don’t correct her because imagining Olan as a Greek god brings me joy.
“Why not? What are you waiting for, a formal invitation?”
My chest expands with air, and I steady myself. “It’s not that simple, Mom.”
“Explain it to your mother then because I don’t understand.”
“Well, the short version – he thinks I’m too attached to my job and not ready to be with someone in recovery.” My voice cracks and I swallow hard.
“Oh, sweetheart. I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”
“Not really. I’m trying to be.”
“Marvy, it’s okay not to be okay.”
“I know. Thanks, Mom.”
“I’m going to look into seeing a therapist. I think I need help with… being okay.”
I brace myself. I’ve always worried my mother would consider her son in therapy as a ringing proclamation of her failure as a mother.
“Good. Why do you think I go to AA meetings? They’re like free therapy with free noshes. It’s like hitting the jackpot for Jews.” She lets out a loud cackle, and I grin because I honestly can’t remember the last time I heard her let go and laugh with such abandon.
“His one-year anniversary meeting is this week, and I’m thinking about going.”
“Good. You should definitely go. It will be good for you, and he’ll share.”
“I want to. Or I think I do, but the award ceremony falls on the same night. I’m not sure I can do both.”
“Oh. I know you’ve worked hard, and it means a lot to you. Can’t they let you know another time?”
I give a little laugh because, again, Sarah’s understanding of how the world works feels slightly askew.
“No, it doesn’t work that way. There are many nominees. They won’t change the entire banquet for me.”
“Have you asked?”
“I can’t ask them to reschedule their entire event for me.”
“Well, talk to Orion. See what he thinks.”
My mother tends to have an answer for everything, and right now, we’re starting to turn in circles.
“He’s not really wanting to talk to me right now. I don’t know what to do. That’s actually why I’ve called you.”
“Oh, now I see.”
Ten minutes later, we finally get there. Slow and steady. I typically get frustrated with my mother’s misunderstandings, but today, I smile and laugh them off between deep breaths. Growth starts with baby steps.
“What does your heart tell you?”
My hand rubs the back of my neck. I focus on the base near my shoulder, attempting to massage the simmering pinch there.
“My heart? I know I love him. I know if I don’t do something to try and show him how I feel, regret will seep in through every crack and crevice.”
“So, there you go.”
“But, it’s a really big deal to be nominated for Teacher of the Year. The school needs the win too. It could really impact staffing. Plus, I’ve worked my tuchus off for this as well. You know we don’t get a ton of recognition as teachers, Mom, and this is a chance for me to shine a light on what I do.”
“I understand. The thing is, Marvy, I can’t tell you what to do. What day does this all happen?”
“Thursday night.”
“And there’s absolutely no way to do both? What time does it start?”
“The AA meeting starts at seven and the ceremony at seven thirty.”
“Well, you go to his AA meeting at seven and just leave at seven thirty.”
“I’m not sure that will work logistically.”
“Sleep on it. You don’t have to make a plan right now, but I bet there’s a way to do both, even if you’re a little late for your award thing. You and Orion, if you’re bashert, it will happen, meeting or not. Nobody can tell you what to do, Marvy. You need to sit with the question a bit. There’s no teacher’s edition with all the answers in the back of the book.”
“When did you get so wise, Mom?”
“It’s called getting old. You’ll get there. If you’re lucky.”
“Thanks, Mom. I love you.”
“I love you too, sweetie.”
I’ve got until Wednesday to figure this out. How badly do I want to be at the ceremony? How much does it matter? Dr. Knorse needs this win more than I do. Will they still give me the award if I don’t show up? Without the funding, the school will have to make cuts. It would devastate the community. But then there’s Olan. The way he looks at me. The way he makes me feel like we belong, like family. Isn’t that what matters most?
My mother’s words reverberate in my head. Showing up at Olan’s meeting would surely get his attention. How can I do both?
Gonzo jumps up on the couch where I’ve planted myself horizontally. He crawls up to my chest and stares at me as he begins to knead my chest.
“Gonzo, what would you do?”
He tilts his face slightly and headbutts my chin, rubbing his nose back and forth across my cheek. Pure love, covered in fur. Clearly, Gonzo won’t tell me what to do either. I let out a big sigh, and Gonzo pauses as the air from my nose blows against his face. He blinks a few times and resumes pummeling my chest.