Chapter 3
Drew
I
open my eyes as I rinse the shampoo out of my hair and grab my conditioner. As I run the product through my hair, I tune out my thoughts of Reed and my parents and my past, and I begin to do what I do best: distract myself with work.
I go over my mental to-do list of what I have to do when I get to school this morning.
1. I need to make copies of a graphic organizer for reading
2. Edit the slides for this morning’s lesson
3. Write today’s learning targets on the board.
4. Email students’ families our weekly newsletter
There’s probably more I should do, but it’s also the day before break. I can save some stuff for when we come back in January.
I put my conditioner down and grab my body wash, squeezing it into my hand. The crisp, citrusy smell waking me up a little bit more as it mixes with the steam rising from the warm water.
As I lather myself with the lemony, sugary scent, I go over the schedule for the day, knowing I had to move some things around for the school’s holiday assembly in the afternoon.
The thought then transforms into the holiday that is just around the corner, and I’m struck with the sudden understanding that it’s almost Christmas, and I have no plans. I feel the excitement I had for the day mold into a pit in my stomach.
Maybe I should call my mom to see what she’s doing for Christmas Eve this year.
Or, I could call my dad.
The holidays are less than a week away, and I’m not sure if I want to spend them alone like I did last year.
But I’m not sure reaching out to my parents will be much better even though I’ve made my peace, and we make it work.
Both with my mom and with my dad, I came to my own understanding that our relationships are what they are, never letting myself fall back into the place I was in as a child where I sacrificed my love for myself for theirs.
I realized it only hurt me, wanting more from each of them, more than what they are willing to give.
I would say that my relationships with my parents are closer to the relationships you have with distant aunts and uncles. You see each other every once in a while, usually for holidays or special occasions, and the conversations never run very deep. It’s casual and polite, but there’s a distance, and I keep them at arms-length. There’s love there, but more so out of obligation. It’s not the kind of love you would want receive from a mom or dad.
But I’ve made peace, and we make it work.
Unlike my brother who turned 18 and never looked back. He lives in Evanston, Illinois now, going to school at Northwestern. He got there completely on his own accord, no thanks to mom or dad. Calvin and I keep in touch more as a adults now, but we still have some room for our sibling-relationship to grow.
Last year was the first year I didn’t go to my mom’s for Christmas Eve or see my dad for New Years. I was way too busy trying to stay on top of my grading and planning while I was still finding my balance as a first year teacher.
Or at least that’s what I told them.
In reality, I didn’t want to deal with their questions, thoughts, and opinions on my life choices that I knew they would be both all too willing to share.
I could call Cal.
He’s on break for school, and it might be a nice olive branch to extend. Reaching out could be the first step of being in each other lives again without the driving force of our parents to separate us anymore.
I could also call Lacey.
She’s an accountant at a firm in our hometown, and I haven’t been a good best friend lately, ignoring her invites to have dinner with her and her boyfriend, Tyler.
They’ve been dating since our sophomore year of college and just closed on a house in August. They decided to come back to my and Lacey’s hometown to “settle down and start their lives together.” That’s what Lacey said when I called her to congratulate her that day. It was the first time we had talked all summer and the last time we’ve actually talked rather than texted.
Lacey’s always been there for me, through the ups and downs of my relationship with my parents and Reed, and she has always supported me through my decisions.
We’re the kind of friends who don’t have to talk every day, but she’s reached out less and less these past few months. I know she would be there if I ever needed, the same way I would be for her.
I really should call them both.
With my mental energy beginning to run low from the plethora of things popping into my head this morning, I tell myself that there will be no more thinking about my parents, Reed, Cal, or Lacey… For now anyway. I need to save this energy for my students.
I’ll call Lacey this weekend to make plans for lunch while I’m off.
I’ll text Cal later today to see if I can find a time to visit him because we’re both on break.
I’ll call my mom after school today, and I’ll call my dad right after to see if I can stop by and see them next week.
And I will not call Reed.
I grab my towel and quickly dry off to start getting ready.
Walking back and forth between the bedroom and my bathroom, probably making too much noise for my downstairs neighbor’s preference. But I can’t help it. I may be stomping around or closing drawers too loudly or dropping too many things along the way, but he’ll just have to deal because I realize I’m now officially running late. Too late to be concerned with the amount of noise I’m making.
Hopefully, he understands.
Even though hopeful thinking about my neighbor hasn’t gotten me too far these past six months.
It was already 6:20 when I got out of the shower because I got all wrapped up in my thoughts. My fingers started to prune, time passing faster outside of my head compared to in.
I jump into some black jeans (one of my few pairs without holes) and throw a black turtleneck over my head, so I can finish putting on my mascara and twisting my damp hair into a claw clip. My hair falls a few inches below where a bra strap would be, so clipping it back keeps it out of the way.
Not too long ago, I dyed my dark brown hair to red, making the green in my hazel eyes more apparent behind my dark lashes. I pull a few stands out of the clip to frame my face before swiping some bronzer on my cheeks to give my skin a little more color.
I can always skip the blush because my cheeks have a tendency to give my feelings away, meaning I naturally wear a few different blush shades a day without the need to apply them. The natural flush sits just behind the freckles on the highpoints of my cheeks and nose that lighten during this time of year.
Aside from the badge I wear around the neck, you could argue that I blend in with my students exceptionally well. I only stand just about five feet tall, never gaining any extra inches from my shoes of choice. My body hasn’t changed much from my own middle school years, aside from growing to fit my jeans much nicer but not enough to fill a bra.
Dressed and almost ready, I thank my past-self for the purchase of a coffee maker with the pre-set brew time that saves me essential minutes in the morning. I like to make it to school by 7:15, so I check the time to see if I’m on track to leave on time, and it’s 6:50.
Perfect.
I walk over to the kitchen as I put my earrings in, holding my shoes under one arm. Once both earrings are secure, I drop my shoes until the floor, not having enough time to care in my rush to get ready that the thump was much louder than anticipated. I reach up to grab my black tumbler from the cabinet above my coffee maker as I ask myself why I chose to put an everyday essential on the highest shelf in the cabinet.
Maybe Winter Break will include a deep clean and organization of my kitchen because I have to get up on my tip toes to reach the shelf.
Barely balanced, I pour my coffee in the tumbler while simultaneously attempting to slip on my Vans.
As a teacher, you’d think multitasking would be one of my skills, and it was working for me up until now. Unfortunately, I have more work to do until it officially settles into my skill set.
Moving too quickly and working way too close to the edge of the counter, I go to grab my tumbler, filled to the brim with hot coffee and instead knock it right towards me.
I try to step back to avoid the coffee splashing on me but trip on the shoes not all the way on my feet just below me. I fall straight on my butt with a loud enough noise to wake my whole apartment complex.
The fall was ten times louder than when I dropped my phone or my shoes and also followed by a shriek when the coffee washes over me. If my ass meeting the floor didn’t wake everyone, my scream definitely did.
I let myself take a moment to thank my past self once again, but this time it is for the choosing of my thicker black turtleneck today, otherwise the list of things to go wrong this morning would’ve included second-degree burns.
As I’m sitting on the floor, covered with coffee, the silence surrounding me is a not-so-friendly reminder of how loud I must have been just a few moments ago.
No wonder my downstairs neighbor hates me.