Chapter Fifteen
3 a.m. came too early the next morning. Julia squinted at the streetlight accosting her through the window–one sliver of light deliberately blinding her eyes. She had just an hour to get to the school, get the folders ready to hand out to the chaperones, and emphasize the importance of the check in locations. No big deal. One hour was a lot of time, right?
She threw on a dark pair of jeans and a navy blouse with a black blazer. That would be comfortable enough for the four-and-a-half-hour bus ride shoulder-to-shoulder with dozens of grumpy teenagers, half of which would most likely forget their phone chargers and complain about it the entire time.
When she got to the school, she opened the trunk of her car and pulled out the trolley full of emergency bandages, snacks, and paperwork for the faculty. With Julia, you knew you were always prepared. She always had a plan B, and then a plan C in case that didn’t work out, and then there was always plan D for emergencies. No surprises.
The frigid morning air wrapped around her, prickling her cheeks with every movement as if her skin was the desert. The parking lot was empty; the school exactly as she left it hours earlier.
“You don’t pack light,” a voice sounded in the darkness.
Even though that voice was familiar, she jumped. She turned and faced Erin, her eyes understandably puffy at that hour.
“And you’re here early,” Julia said, smiling at the surprise.
“I figured you’d be a little stressed sorting everything out this morning,” she closed the trunk for her, “and I wanted to help.”
They walked towards the school with full arms and got to work immediately. Erin helped Julia pull out a folding table in the front of the gymnasium to station their sign-in sheet. A short half hour later, students and teachers began to file in with coffee in hand and emergency contacts on speed dial.
Erin was stationed by the door handing out chaperone packs while Julia organized students into their groups. She waved off nervous parents and checked to make sure the appropriate students had their EpiPens and inhalers. Between the two of them and Keegan corralling late participants in the parking lot, each group was sorted and on the buses in record time. They were right on schedule. No plan B needed.
“And we’re off, Steve!” Julia patted the bus driver’s shoulder as she made her way to a seat. He honked his horn to the other drivers, a smoke signal in the night light.
The bus lurched into motion and the students cheered with excitement, their previous sleepy conversations now overwhelming chatter. A fleet of eight buses trailed out of the school’s parking lot, beeping at the waving parents still standing on the sidewalk.
The front seat was taken by extra folders, allergy kits, and miscellaneous snacks and drinks. Julia walked past it, resting on the outside edge of Erin’s seat as she did a final count of heads.
“Are you excited?” Erin asked, reviewing her own chaperone folder one more time.
“Very much so, actually,” she confessed. “I actually saw this same play as a child. It’s one of my favorites.”
“I can’t wait to see it then.” Erin smiled at her and then turned her attention back to the window, the edges frosted from the night’s chill.
Four other chaperones were on the same bus, separated throughout its length. Students with headphones and fists full of granola bars hopped seats across aisles as they laughed with expectation. Sure, they were probably excited not to be in school for the day, but Julia pretended their giddiness was in part for the art they were about to witness.
As they approached an hour of sitting on those stiff leather benches, tired students began to sink deeper into their seats, napping on each other’s shoulders. Chaperones closed their eyes themselves, savoring any last bit of calm before the chaos. Erin inched just slightly closer to Julia, their legs brushing when the bus hopped from bumps in the road.
“Ms. Jenner?” a voice from behind her called.
“Ah, Mrs. Perot. Yes, what can I do for you?” Julia smiled as she turned into the aisle towards the French teacher. Her cropped brown hair was pulled behind her ears and her signature red beret sat on her head.
“A couple of students asked when we would be stopping for a bathroom break,” she said, gripping a seat for stability. “You know how they gulp those disgusting energy drinks.”
Julia checked her watch and saw it was closely approaching two hours of their trip. They’d be coming up on their halfway stop–a travel station where students could stretch their legs or get a bite to eat.
“We’ll be stopping in about twenty minutes, right Steve?” Julia stood and leaned closer towards the driver.
“Fifteen, actually!” he said enthusiastically, his scraggly gray beard wiggling as he spoke.
“Thank you, Ms. Jenner. I’ll start to wake the students.”
Julia smiled and sat back down next to Erin. Drinking three cups of espresso before getting on the bus probably wasn’t the best idea for her bladder, either.
“Ms. Jenner?” Erin asked.
Julia looked at her, not understanding that she was asking about the name and not attempting to get her attention. She looked at her puzzlingly, her eyebrows furrowed into a line, and then it clicked.
“Yes,” Julia acknowledged.
She pulled her attention to the front of the bus, the tops of trees highlighted by the sun creeping from its hiding spot beneath the growing hills. At that hour, there were no other cars to rustle snow across the empty roads.
“Ms?” Erin asked again, seeking clarification.
“Ms.” Julia stated.
She looked down at her hands in her lap. Her right hand was sheltering her left, her thumb grazing over her tan line. That damn habit.
Erin reached over and placed her hand on Julia’s rubbing fingers, ceasing all movement as fast as a pause button on a remote. It was a brief few breaths and then she pulled her hand back, turning her gaze towards the window. That swift little motion, that momentary touch, caused Julia’s heart to grow Grinch style. Oh boy, was she in trouble.
They didn’t say anything else on the ride to the rest stop. Erin didn’t ask what that meant, what that meant for them both, if it meant anything at all. Julia didn’t explain why she still rubbed the ghost of that ring, even with the change of her title, even without pictures lining her walls, even without another person to use as an excuse.
The bus driver flipped his blinker and students stood with more excitement than they had earlier, a bright yellow McDonald’s sign hovering over the skyline. That’s all it took to truly make a teenager happy. Not a field trip. Not expensive Broadway tickets. Not a once-in-a-lifetime moment in the theater world. No, none of that. All it took was a neon Micky D sign.
“Okay, okay!” Julia stood, motioning them to take their seats as she spoke, and they did so without hesitation. “We’re stopping for no more than twenty-five minutes. During that time you may grab a snack, use the restroom, or stay on the bus. At exactly 7:00, we will all be back on this bus and ready to go. Give me a thumbs up if you understand.”
Jacket covered arms flung into the air, a thumbs up in every row. Julia took the walkie talkie from a pocket within her bag. It beeped obnoxiously as she flipped the dial to the ‘on’ position. Her voice sounded gravely over the sound waves as she gave them the same instructions to the other leaders. The door swung open and as icy air filled the bus, students crowded off.
“I’m going to get another coffee from Dunkin,” Erin said, grabbing her wallet from inside her bag. “Do you want anything?”
Julia held up her travel cup and jostled the liquid inside. If she drank another sip of coffee, her kidneys would float to New York City and then all the way back home.
“No, thank you,” she said with a smile. “I’m going to go in and use the bathroom and count heads.”
They both went their separate ways, careful to not brush against the other as they exited at the same time. Once inside, Julia surveyed her surroundings as students flooded the lines, some towards desperate greasy breakfast sandwiches as others gravitated towards the caffeinated drinks their parents wouldn’t let them normally drink. Faculty waited in line for bagels and elaborate cream topped coffees. Everyone was so alive.
“Hey there.” Keegan brushed her elbow, a donut in her hand.
“How can you eat all that junk and still look like you haven’t popped out five gorgeous babies?” Julia laughed.
“Good genes,” she replied, a mouth full of jelly filling. She never was the graceful type. “How’s it going on your bus?”
“Blissfully uneventful. You?”
“Well, Tobin Tulley decided it was a good idea to take a picture of Clara Roen sleeping, so I had to diffuse World War IIII,” she paused, taking a sip of her dark iced drink, “but other than that, just peachy.”
“World War IIII, huh? It was going to be so bad we’d skip an entire world war?”
Julia chuckled as she caught Clara and Tobin holding hands by the door, sharing a muffin. To be that age again, to love so recklessly and forgivingly.
“You realize it is freezing outside?” Julia motioned to the ice swirling in her plastic cup. “They make drinks to thaw you out, too.”
“Cold like my soul,” Keegan deadpanned, sipping the creamy coffee through a straw.
Julia looked over at the coffee line. Erin stood with her hands in her jacket, her weight shifted on one hip. For once she wasn’t wearing those signature heels and her height blended in with the students around her.
She looked at the menu above her, just one other teacher standing in her way of sweet caffeine. Erin’s eyes dropped from the sign and scanned the room full of bustling students fumbling with money. Her eyes caught Julia’s immediately, as if she was the only one there, as if there was a yellow brick road always leading them home.
Julia watched as Erin flashed her that smile, completely disarming any glimmer of conscious thought she had moments ago. Oh, how she could dissolve before that smile, how she could melt right through even the smallest crack in the tile she stood on. She couldn’t help but smile back before turning her attention back to Keegan, who was looking right at her.
“Oh.” Keegan’s mouth was between agape and a smile, her eyebrows raised.
“What?” Julia played dumb, turning her back to where Erin stood across the black and white tiled room.
“Oh, honey,” she groaned, shaking her head with a grin that you could see even past the coffee cup she held in front of her face.
“Stop that,” Julia mumbled through gritted teeth.
“Stop what?” Keegan smirked, loving every moment more as it passed. “What am I doing, Julia?”
“Looking at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you have something to say.”
“Well, maybe I do.”
“Then say it.” Julia gently shoved her shoulder, waiting for the blast of her comeback.
Keegan pulled her coffee back down to waist height, her smile cut in the same stone that lined her cheekbones. “I’ve missed that smile.”
She reached out and held Julia’s hand, their embraced fingers hanging in the fast-food scented air between them. Julia squeezed her hand, and they just stood like that, relishing in the fact that sometimes moments are better without words.
“Me too,” Julia sighed.
“We’re not going to talk about this right now,” her eyes glanced back towards where Erin was picking her drink up from the kiosk, “but you will have to spill the beans Sunday.”
Julia opened her mouth to rebut–to explain that there was nothing to discuss, that she’s just a friend–but just as she did, Erin walked up behind them.
“I know you said you didn’t want anything, but I figured you’d need some nutrients other than coffee at some point.” Erin held out a brown bag between them, her eyes locking on their hands held together. Julia dropped Keegan’s hand and took the warm bag. “It’s a chocolate scone.”
“Thanks,” Julia replied with a smile, trying so desperately not to make it look awkward under Keegan’s gaze.
“Welp,” Keegan turned to look at the line of students still waiting for their food, “we better wrap up these younglings if we’re going to be on the bus and off in the next five minutes.”
“Kleinton High,” Julia wrapped her hands around her mouth to drown out the chaos around her, “if you’ve used the bathroom and are done ordering, make your way back to the buses! I repeat, it is now time to load back on the buses!”
In a bustle, students began to file back through the front door, pushing for who would get the window seat. Some still waited by the checkout counter while others moseyed out of bathrooms with their friend group. What was it about girls that required a posse to use the toilet?
“I’ll direct students outside and start the head count,” Keegan shouted towards them both as she started towards the exit.
“We’ll be right out with the stragglers,” Julia shouted back as Keegan opened the door to leave. She could hear the morning wind whipping against the brick facade outside.
Erin helped Julia check the bathrooms and then coaxed students in booths to take their food to the bus. Eventually, after checking every corner, everyone was out of the rest stop. Most students were loaded on the appropriate buses, and just a few confused souls stood in the parking lot, deciding whether they got off the second or third bus in line.
They split the rosters, and both stepped onto each vehicle to verify everyone was accounted for. Erin was already seated when she boarded the bus, a completed list of students still in her hands.
“We’re good to go, Steve.” Julia tapped his arm as she rounded the corner and took her seat back next to Erin. The bus lurched into motion and they were off once again–the students chirping with energy and back to their shenanigans.
“You’re really good at all of this.”
“It’s kind of my job to be good at it. I’ve been doing it for a really long time.”
“I mean people,” Erin clarified, organizing the rosters in her hand and handing them over to Julia as she sat. “Everyone. Every situation I’ve seen you in. It’s amazing to watch.”
Julia let a chuckle escape from her throat.
“I’m always grasping at straws,” she whispered, as if it was a secret.
“No one can tell.” Erin smiled, but Julia rolled her eyes. “I’m serious.”
“I’m sorry.” Julia let her hand rest on Erin’s arm. “Thank you.”
“You suck at taking compliments,” she whispered–forcing Julia to draw nearer, her hand still on that soft skin.
“Was that what that was?” Julia grinned.
“How long have you been in education again?”
“Oh, I don’t think you want me to date myself again. If you pushed it out of your memory, then that’s a good thing!”
Erin’s eyebrows rose, wrinkling her beautifully tanned skin.
Julia compromised. “A long time.”
“And there’s still a spark in your eyes for it,” Erin said. “That’s impressive.”
The bus grew quiet as full tummies sat back down and sunk into slumber. They turned onto the highway and all bumps ceased–nothing but road noise and flashing cars out the foggy windows to distract the quietness.
“You and Keegan are really close,” Erin spoke after minutes of silence.
“We are. Sometimes it’s hard to make friends in this line of work. There’s so many lines and it takes me so much time to separate it all out. She’s been my constant.”
“I’m sure everyone-knows-everyone in a community as tight as Kleinton.”
“Exactly, and Keegan’s always been there. Joining work and friendship keeps things interesting.”
The bus jumped as a pothole covered in snow was hit by the driver. Erin’s hand instinctively went to Julia’s thigh, but she pretended not to notice. Julia glanced towards the back of the bus. Most students settled back into their seats–only a momentary oh, ah, and woah rolling down the aisles.
Erin’s eyes darted down to Julia’s leg, and she quickly removed her hand.
“She’s married, right?”
“She is. A very nice guy named Ben,” Julia answered, her focus still on the chatter in the back, and most certainly not on the warmth Erin left behind on her skin. “They have five munchkins themselves.”
“Has there ever been anything between the two of you?”
“Erin,” Julia gaped, looking around to see who could hear. “Never.”
“That was inappropriate,” she excused apologetically, her hand covering her mouth. “I’m sorry. Sometimes I just look at you and my lips are moving before my brain can really think it through.”
Julia just looked at her for a moment. She knew the feeling, all the words that constantly threatened to spew from her mouth anytime she was in her presence.
“When I said there was no one in my life,” she whispered, her lips just inches from Erin’s ear, “I told you the truth.”
“It just seemed like there was something there,” Erin paused, “at the last stop.”
If the bus was quiet before, it was a ghost town now, and Julia was growing more self-conscious by the second. And then it clicked. It was the moment that she held Keegan’s hand at the rest stop, a simple touch they’d done so many times before.
“Oh,” Julia tried to hide a smile. “Ms. Calanis, am I sensing a little jealousy?” Erin sat a little straighter as a slight flush of pink slowly crawled across the tops of her cheekbones.
“Well, I, I–” she stuttered, “no, I just–I guess I keep looking for an explanation.” Her gaze dropped and then she shook her shoulders in a literal attempt to brush the situation off. “Nevermind. Forget I said anything, please.”
Julia was shocked–her teeth unknowingly clenched even though her shoulders slumped in comfort anytime she was next to her.
“We were talking about you.”
“Huh?” Erin’s cheeks flushed even brighter than when they both were blindsided and stood in the same room at that faculty meeting.
“Keegan and I,” Julia clarified. “She says you make me smile.”
“Friends are supposed to make each other smile.”
“You do an extra good job,” whispered Julia, focus momentarily pulled towards the window.
“That sounds like a good thing,” Erin whispered back, her chin almost touching Julia’s shoulder as she leaned just slightly closer.
“It is,” she spoke the words gently and her entire body was engulfed in a wave of rolling goosebumps.
“You make me smile too,” she whispered, “all the time.”
Julia had to fight down the spreading lightness, the feeling of floating on clouds. Her stomach twirled and she tried her hardest not to smile too big, not to allow it to crack her face in two because she didn’t have words for the happiness that spread through her.
The rest of the drive was quiet as students played on their phones. Julia caught them taking selfies, perched over seats to photobomb the other with tongues and bunny ears out. Other than the occasional reprimand from random objects flying through the air, caught only in the reflection of the bus driver’s mirror, it was a smooth ride.
As they approached the parking location, the bustle of the city erupted around them. The mumbling of voices reverberated off windows as the sound of honking horns and loud exhausts filled their ears.
Students hesitantly stepped out of the buses and formed groups surrounding their chaperones. Adults took a final headcount, reminding everyone of the buddy policy as New Yorkers hustled around them with phones to their ears and open coats flowing in the winter wind.
They walked down Broadway, Julia occasionally checking back to make sure everyone was still there. She always looked for Erin first, taking up the rear and talking enthusiastically with a group of 9th grade boys.
They rounded into the theater, passing dozens of brightly designed stores, and Julia met with the manager waiting for them at the door. His dark brown hair was slicked back, accentuating his round face and prominent forehead. He wore an antiquated suit, a red bow tie pulling attention to the front. It was completely theatrical, and it roused the butterflies in her stomach.
They exchanged information and tickets were handed to each chaperone to disperse within their groups. Julia reiterated the expectations for their behavior, emphasizing the need to stick with a partner no matter where they went. Erin led the way for their cohort, students excitedly pushing towards the front to get the first pick of the seat in their row.
Julia nodded as she visually checked for each group, counting heads as they walked through. When she stepped into the theater, she felt paralyzed from the waist down.
The overhead lights were dimmed, highlighting the seats just enough to find the numbers bolted on the arms. The stage lights pointed to the empty raised platform, surrounded by a crescent outlining hundreds of empty seats. Gold fixtures hung from the ceilings and walls, only drowned out by the extravagant red fabric clinging over the stage and on the very chairs they’d be sitting on. It was glorious and exactly as she remembered.
A student apologetically scooted beside her, pulling her back from the memory of sitting in those very chairs as her legs swung beneath her–too young to truly understand the impact the very same production would have on her then.
She got her bearings, scanning the orchestra seating. She was about to sit right there towards the back, her hand grasping the cold arm, when Erin stood from mid-row. She was at the perfect location to view the stage while also keeping a close eye on all the students around her. She gave a subtle wave and Julia walked further down, students standing aside as she scooted down towards the middle of row B. Erin sat down the same time she did.
Julia looked back and took in the atmosphere, the smell of freshly popped popcorn and overly warm lights in the air. In front of her sat one entire row of students–behind her, dozens of students and faculty–all antsy to see what awaited them.
She accomplished so many things in her life. She gave up so many things in her life. Somehow, through it all, it felt worth it as long as she ended up in that very same chair. It felt as if everything had fallen into place and that was where she belonged, surrounded by all the people and children she worked so hard for. And then there was Erin.
The lights in the theater lowered and hovered over the stage, pulling eyes in different directions before softly stopping in the center. The entire room went silent with expectation, hushed voices dissipating behind her.
Julia found herself holding her breath, not knowing whether this would affirm her childhood memories or tear them apart. But isn’t that what life does to everyone? It could be everything you wished for, or it could be nothing like you hoped.
As the love story entangled the misunderstanding nature of the plot, as chandeliers crashed before them and students gasped in awe, Julia found that it was everything she remembered and more. It was so, so much more.
She sat with her hands gripped into a tight ball in her lap. She didn’t know she was even doing it until Erin reached out and, with one touch, loosened every tense muscle in her body. She pulled her one hand to her side, but she didn’t let go. For the rest of the first half, they sat with one hand over the other, fully aware of the veil of darkness that covered them, but wishing it was in the light.
The halftime intermission began and lights disgracefully shone from the stage to the seats that were once empty but now contained hundreds of restless students. The theater erupted with voices, moments ago everyone captivated by swinging actors and heavenly voices echoing to the rooftops of the highest skyscraper.
“I’m going to get some water,” Erin said with a smile as she squeezed Julia’s hand just once before letting go. She didn’t even realize that she still touched that softness until Erin released her.
Julia sat there, taking it all in. She couldn’t remember the last time something made her so excited. She knew it would be the last year the longest running production in Broadway history would bless that stage, and yet she waited until a field trip fell in her lap to take the leap.
Why had it taken her so long to come back? She didn’t need a school field trip to drive to the city. She’d gone to Bali, Ireland, England, and so many other far away places for less of a reason. This would’ve been a brisk walk. Yet, she made the conscious decision not to. Unless it was work related, she needed the kick of a bronco to actually do anything remotely good for herself.
She stood–the vibration from the symphony of chaos surrounding her in an oddly comforting embrace–contemplating all the time she lost, wishing desperately that she had a machine to go back and change her own mind. If she did have a time machine, that wouldn’t be all she’d change. She’d go back and do so much differently.
She’d go to those stupid late-night Thursday concerts at the Proctors Theater–the ones that she always talked herself out of with the excuse of work the next day on the tip of her tongue. She’d take that art class, the one all about painting, at the local community college instead of saying she didn’t have enough time to fit it into her schedule. She’d say yes when asked to go to coffee by the beautiful woman with the golden-brown eyes that used to race her on the treadmill at the gym. She’d go back to see a Broadway show before decades of time passed.
Her gaze scrolled over the empty seats before her, students still standing and waiting for their turn to exit the room. She looked to her left where an elderly couple leaned towards each other, his mouth near her ear as he said something that made her laugh. He held a purple handkerchief to his mouth, ogling at her smile. Is that what growing old together should have looked like? Is that the same twinkle in his eye what disappeared from their lives?
A regal duo sat in the seat directly in front of them. The man wore a tuxedo, the type only seen in James Bond movies. His trophy wife with platinum blonde hair framing her square face stood as she fanned her chest. She wore a dark purple fitted gown that reached out to her feet in a peacock fan. It was far too elegant for the crowd they were surrounded by–exhausted teenagers with ripped jeans and baggy sweatshirts–but somehow, Julia found herself thinking that it was just who they were.
Just as she began to stand–her seat flipping up behind her with an obnoxious thud–she caught sight of a woman sitting in the seat closest to the aisle in the first row. Her hair laid in straight warm tones over the back. She wore what looked like a tan pantsuit, the neckline folded down at her sharp collar bone. Her lipstick was a stark red, pulling the attention of anyone in eyesight. She was elegant, completely unbothered by the ruckus surrounding her.
Next to her was a woman of tall stature, towering a few inches above her, even in their seated position. Her black hair was shoulder length and pin straight. They leaned towards each other and laughed as if no one else in the world told jokes like the other, as if no one else existed.
It wasn’t until that woman looked back, piercing blue eyes cutting through the crowdless theater, that Julia realized just how bright those red tones were. The laugh she released still reverberated through the muffled child-like chatter of the audience seated. That laugh, that raspy song, sent visions of winter nights watching Christmas movies with marshmallow topped hot chocolates fluttering through her mind.
Marin.