Chapter 20 Brooke
brOOKE
Ikeep myself busy with the students while the mini-bus is getting fixed and we’re on the road home just after lunch.
Joel sits next to Dana on the bus ride home, and I sit up front on my own.
I lean my head against the window and watch the scenery go by. Light rain splatters the window and turns the sky gray.
There’s a heavy weight in my stomach that has been sitting there ever since this morning. I did the right thing; I tell myself.
I can’t change all my life plans just for a man. I would have liked to spend time with Joel for my remaining months here, but I understand why he doesn’t want to.
It’s all or nothing for me.
His words run through my head, making me shiver.
He wanted it all with me, and I chose nothing.
I chose not to have his hands running over my body again, to never feel his stubble on my thighs, or the safety of his arms. He offered me all the things that my body craves, and I ignored my body and chose with my head: nothing.
I wish he could have met me in the middle.
We could have had a nice few months getting to know each other and exploring each other’s bodies.
But then what? It would have been harder to leave after six months of Joel, harder to say goodbye.
It’s better this way, I tell myself. And I could never give up my dreams and lifestyle for a man.
Not just any man, a voice in my head whispers, and I shut it down.
We barely know each other. He’s at least ten years older than me, probably more. The fact that I don’t even know his age shows how little we know about each other.
He’s got a family already. What if I want to start a family? Would he want more kids?
I’ll never know, because he doesn’t want to spend the next few months getting to know each other.
I’ve never been sure I want kids. I want to see the country and change people’s lives. Kids have never fit into the equation.
What if they were dark-haired kids, growing up on the side of Wild Heart Mountain?
I shake my head to dislodge the thought.
I’ve known Joel for less than a week. I’ve just told him I’m definitely leaving in six months.
The last thing I should be doing is imagining what our children would look like.
Especially as the man’s got two teenagers already.
I bet the last thing he’d want is more kids.
It’s a stupid idea all around.
I’ll go to my next placement by the coast. I’ll keep moving, and in a few months, my night with Joel will be nothing more than a fond memory.
His gravelly laugh resonates down the mini-bus, and I sink further into my seat.
All or nothing.
And I chose nothing. But if it’s the right thing to do, then why does it feel so wrong?
Six hours later, the students have been deposited at school and met by their families. I’ve said goodbye to Bruce and another awkward goodbye to Joel. It’s with relief that I let myself into my apartment.
It smells musty, and the silence after the bustle of being around students is deafening. I drop my bag in the living room, toe off my shoes, and open the fridge. There’s a half-eaten takeout container, and I sniff the contents before chucking it in the trash.
In the freezer, I find half a loaf of bread and put two slices in the toaster.
While I wait for it to toast, I put on a playlist from my phone. I select the most recent album from my favorite female pop star and turn it up loud.
See, I tell myself as I spread chocolate spread on my toast. When you live alone, you can put on whatever music you want and eat whatever the fuck you want.
I shake my booty half-heartedly to the music as I carry my toast to the table.
I pull my laptop out of my bag and fire it up. I re-read the email inviting me for a job interview and reply to it, telling them I’d be thrilled to meet them over a video call on Thursday afternoon, then hit send.
“There you go,” I say out loud to my empty house, although it doesn’t thrill me as much as it usually does when I get an interview.
There’s also an email from the Hope High School principal requesting me in his office at 8am tomorrow morning to discuss what happened at camp.
I drop the toast onto my plate and bring my hand to my mouth, before realizing he doesn’t mean the fact that I slept with the parent helper. He’s talking about Justin going missing for an hour.
I type back a quick response.
I’ve only eaten half my toast, but I’m suddenly not hungry. I take my plate into the kitchen and dump the unfinished toast into the trash.