Chapter Six
Fall semester started that Monday. I taught back-to-back Comp classes Monday and Wednesday mornings, a section of Women’s Lit on Friday afternoons, and the rest were evening and Saturday classes.
While I generally enjoyed all my students, my favorites were the evening and Saturday ones.
My evening Comp class was mostly made up of adults returning to school for their very first semester after several years in the workforce, and my Saturday classes, Creative Writing and another section of Women’s Lit, were a fascinating combination of young students, older adults seeking degrees, and random people from the community taking the classes for fun or personal enrichment.
Those were awesome. The Comp classes were degree requirements, but the Lit and Writing classes were full of people who had specifically chosen to be there.
Writing abilities and experiences were all over the map.
I always had some students who had struggled mightily to graduate high school, and some with more education than I had.
I had students who had dropped out of school to raise their siblings or take care of their parents and had earned their GEDs in their twenties or thirties, and I’d once had a Creative Writing student who had entered college at sixteen.
Every now and then, I had a student who brought their baby because their sitter had bailed or their daycare provider was sick.
I learned about some of them during class itself, and arrived early and stayed late to chat with others.
Since I didn’t have an actual space for office hours, I encouraged everyone to email me with questions or concerns.
I was fried after the wedding and really just wanted to go home and take a nap, but after my Monday classes I stopped in on Vera to say hello.
She was the head of the department, and she did have an office, with windows and a big desk and cushy chairs.
I never asked if the college supplied them or if she purchased them herself.
Two of the other teachers, Terri and Antonio, were already sitting in the chairs across from Vera.
I hung in the doorway. “Just wanted to say hello.”
Vera smiled. “Welcome back. Are you done for the day or on lunch?” She had a protein shake, and Antonio was eating a sandwich.
“I’m done. Are you guys?”
“Just on lunch,” Antonio said. “I have a nine thirty and a one o’clock.”
“I’m just getting going for the day,” Terri said. She was a short, stout woman in her late fifties with skin so white it was almost transparent and a closet full of shapeless sweaters. She taught poetry in addition to her share of Comp classes.
Vera turned back to me. “Did you have some time to relax?”
I’d taught a couple classes of summer session, but I hadn’t seen Terri or Antonio since the spring. “Yeah. Did a little writing and a lot of nothing. Did you guys have nice summers?”
“My daughter got married,” Terri said. “It was stressful.”
“Congratulations.”
Antonio grinned. “Spent two weeks in a cabin in the mountains out of the heat. Birds, deer, a hot tub, and me.”
“Sounds great,” I said.
“Did you and Veronica get out of town at all?” Terri asked.
Aw, shit. I’d mostly gotten over the horrific feelings of embarrassment, but just hearing that name stung. Fortunately, Vera’s head swung toward Terri. “Girl, where you been? They broke up last spring.”
Terri glared at Antonio. “Did you know this?”
Antonio jumped a little. He looked at once guilty and unsure as to why he should feel that way. “Yeah.”
“How did you know this? Oh, baby, I’m so sad for you. She was a real gem. What happened?”
I stared at Terri, wheels spinning in my head. Nobody had asked that question, and being forced to think of an answer rattled me to the core. “I guess we just sort of grew apart.”
Vera made a judgmental noise to my right, but didn’t say anything.
“Well, I’m sorry. Are you doing okay?”
“I’m fine. Water under the bridge.”
Vera opened her drawer and brightly waved a handful of tickets. “Anybody want to go to the football game this Saturday?”
I smiled at her for changing the subject. “Not this week but I’ll go with you sometime soon. I should get home…I’ll see you guys later.”
Halfway down the hall, I could still hear Terri demanding Vera and Antonio explain how they knew.
I supposed it was nice that I had given them something to talk about, but it had put me in a bad mood.
I felt stupid about that until I did the math and realized it had been only a couple of weeks since I’d caught Veronica and Ally in the grocery store.
I changed into gym clothes and went to work out my frustrations on the elliptical.
I listened to a true crime podcast, but I couldn’t concentrate so I blared music on my earbuds instead.
I was sweaty and tired and feeling less like shit in an hour, so I went home to shower and bask in the air conditioning.
The pavement was still too hot to walk Ollie.
I put some leftovers in the microwave and brought my laptop into the dining room.
I was expecting to hear back from Jace with her opinions on my edits any day, but there was nothing new in my email.
I hadn’t had a good writing day in about a week, so I sat with my Chinese food and a soda and opened my latest file.
When I wasn’t taking my meds, I could start at the beginning and write straight through, idea blooming into idea, even if I wasn’t sure at first where things were going.
I had several chapters of that from the other week, but now all I could do was spit out a few scenes here and there.
They were mostly non sequential, and I had to draw up major plot diagrams to put them together at the end.
It was frustrating, but not as frustrating as trying to get the words on the screen in the first place.
A writing professor I had in college once suggested that if we hit a block, we should just repeat the same word over and over until the next one popped into our brains.
On bad days, I could repeat the same word word word word word word for a page and a half without anything emerging to follow it.
Words often swirled in my brain like a mosquito that would not be swatted, but sometimes there was absolutely nothing there.
I chewed on my lo mein, thinking about it. Is this even worth it anymore? Am I still having any fun? I knew it was. Even on the days it sucked, sometimes I finished a few thoughts, closed up some loopholes, came up with a good scene. It just took a lot of work.
Stupid fuck Terri for bringing up stupid fuck Veronica. I knew that was part of it. Yes, I told myself firmly, it’s worth it. I knew I just needed to keep trying and maybe, maybe I could find a way to both write for real and be okay at the same time.
I was leaving the college Thursday evening when my phone rang. I expected it to be Mom, but to my shock, my brother’s name came up on the screen. “Hey, Kev. How’re you doing?”
“Fine. Am I calling at a bad time?”
“Nope. Just got out of class. What’s up?”
“Well, apparently, this year is Mom and Dad’s fiftieth anniversary.”
Oh my God, I just got out of there. I hoped for a moment to drive past something really awful so I could join the witness protection program and never be seen again.
I knew that wasn’t likely to happen, though, so I put on my big girl panties.
“Crap. We need to do something. It’s what, November twenty-fifth?
Is that Thanksgiving week? I teach through Wednesday. ”
“Yeah, well, Mom has already rented the ballroom at the country club for that Saturday.”
I took a moment to breathe deeply. “Of course she has.”
“I think we’re supposed to take care of the rest.”
“I can’t believe she…” I shook my head. “Yes, I can. Okay. Here we are.”
“Right?” Kevin laughed, but it was terse. “The country club supplies the tables and linens and dishes and shit, and Missy has offered to find a caterer and a bartender and address invitations.”
“She seriously has time to do that? Let me at least do the invitations. I’m useless as far as everything in town goes.”
“Mom has kind of a…” Kevin cleared his throat. “Big list.”
“I’m sure she does. Where is Dad on this?”
“Going along with everything like usual.”
Of course. “Look, send me the details and the list and I’ll get something printed up and take care of sending them out and accepting RSVPs. I can Venmo you to cover part of the rest.”
“I’ve got the rest. I make more than you.”
“Shut up. You have six kids.”
“I’ve got it.” His tone said I was the one who should shut up.
“Is it horrible to say I’m not coming home for Thanksgiving then?”
“Oh, Sam. You’d seriously do that to me?”
“She’ll pay attention to the kids.”
“They don’t fit at the table. You know that.”
My mother had to make a kids’ table in the living room and the fear of one of them spilling juice on the carpet made her tic every time. “Ask the neighbors over or some shit. I can’t take four nights in that house.”
“I’d say you could stay with us, but—”
“She’d throw a holy fit,” we said together.
“I’ll email you the list,” Kevin said. “I’m sorry.”