Chapter 41 #2
I made a point to take a big, exaggerated whiff around her, and she giggled. Sure enough, she had that same sweet smell that I always enjoyed when my skin needed a little life. And, to be honest, it was completely heartwarming that she wanted to smell like me.
My attention was averted from her, thankfully, as the children chanted for cupcakes.
Our special celebration treats, compliments of the PTA, had arrived and who else delivered it but Jill.
I glanced at my coffee cup. As much as I would have loved the reminder that I had a sweet boyfriend who understood the importance of this day, I’d crossed out Reed’s name.
Wouldn’t she have loved to find a little tidbit like that.
Jill helped me pass out the cupcakes and juice, and while I was grateful for her assistance, I could barely stand her company, and every time she was near Abigail, I tensed.
I was both protective and nervous. I would never censor Abigail, but she was such a social, vivid storyteller.
I loved that about her. I also would never want her to know that the little family—hmm, wrong word—our little bubble was something bad.
Something wrong. So each time Jill approached her, I prayed that Abigail’s conversations stayed school-related.
This made me think about how much I’d truly embedded myself in her life. It would be pretty hard for her to share something about her home, her weekends, her day, without including me. And yet, she had no idea that we were technically a secret. That clinched my gut a little.
Here we were, celebrating my grandmother, my hero, her vision.
As much as I agreed that she’d be proud of my work as an educator, as an advocate for children, would she be disappointed in the choices I’d made with Reed?
The question stung my eyes. I massaged the back of my neck, trying to relieve some of the tension that had been building since the day began.
A hand softly touched my arm. “You doing okay, Cici?” There wasn’t a hint of genuine concern in Jill’s voice, especially with the pointed way she said Cici. It took everything I had not to snatch my arm away from her.
“I’m fine, just a little crick in my neck.” I hoped my smile said I appreciate your concern, but I’m pretty sure it actually said back the fuck off, bitch.
Jill continued around the room, handing out seconds on cupcakes, chatting and laughing with the students.
I kept my eye on her as I did the same and tried to intercept her going to Abi’s table.
She finally managed to make her way over there, and I stood within earshot but continued to tend to my students at the nearest table, telling them silly jokes.
Lillian, the girl sitting next to Abi, shouted to Jill, “Abigail smells like ice cream today because she used special lotion.”
I froze, not wanting to turn and appear to be listening, though I did my best to eavesdrop through the chatter at the table I was serving.
“Yeah, it was Cici’s lotion,” Abigail cheered. My stomach plummeted and my throat constricted. I took a step farther, swallowing down my queasiness.
“Oh, you do smell lovely. How did you get Ms. Vilotta’s lotion?” Nice play. Using my surname.
“It was in my car next to my booster seat, and Uncle Reed said it belonged to her and she leaves it in his car to smell pretty.”
Well, it’s pretty hard to explain that away. I squeezed my eyes shut, willing the universe to make this conversation stop now.
“Well, make sure no one mistakes you for ice cream and gobbles you up.”
Abigail and her table of friends all giggled.
I tried to appear enthralled in my conversation with the table of boys I’d just served.
I was pretty sure the discussion involved farts.
The devil herself patted my shoulder, and I imagined my knees buckling from the slight weight of her hand there.
Jill’s smile was a disturbing mix of gloat and amusement when I turned to face her.
Then she spoke, her voice saccharine and nauseating.
“I think everyone has had seconds. Do you need help cleaning up?”
Dizziness stole over me with how hard I shook my head. “Nope, I’m good. Thank you for your help.”
“See you tonight?” she cooed as she set down the box of remaining cupcakes. “I’m looking forward to hearing what you and Reed are up to.” A knowing smirk traced her lips. “I mean with the event, of course.”
I gave her a closed-mouth “Mm-hmm.”
Then I turned away, tending to the closest table of children, excusing them to clean up their snack and go to recess.
She left the classroom, but not without one last comment tossed over her shoulder, “My father has been eagerly awaiting updates on our PTA happenings. I’m looking forward to sharing all of the wonderful things I’ve been observing.”
Her veiled threat landed its blow, and the nearest chair saved me from collapsing into myself.
It didn’t matter that it was a third of my size. I had to sit.
Rubbing at my chest did nothing to relieve the tightness. Each inhale was more stifling.
“Ms. Vilotta, you look scared. Did you see a spider?” William asked, patting my arm. “I can protect you. I’m brave.”
My deep well of teacher magic gave me the power to shake my head and force a smile, fighting through the heaviness overwhelming my body. “I’m okay, bud. Go enjoy recess.” He was off, and as I excused the rest of the class, each word choked until I had nothing left. Magic gone.
The quiet that settled in the room was not a relief. Instead, pressure built around me, forcing out the unwelcome thoughts and labored breaths.
Trying to distract myself, I watched out the classroom window, my eyes immediately zipping to Abigail swinging on the monkey bars, skipping rungs, laughing with her friends.
Pride swelled in my chest, then was overtaken by something dense and burdensome.
Honesty. Honesty. Honesty.
I rested my head between my hands, closing my eyes, searching for calm. Counted to ten. Not working. Ground feet into the floor. Not working. What did I feel, see, smell, hear… Not fucking working.
The more strategies I tried, the more the panic consumed me.
Lies. Lies. Lies.
A hand on my back startled me. God, who now?
“Cici, you look exhausted. How can I help?” Michelle asked.
She might be chronically tardy, but my aide was a lifesaver once she arrived.
“Oh yes, exhausted.” I pushed the words out as normally as possible, tears suddenly threatening, tickling in my cheeks. “Can you take them to art class after recess?” I asked. My saving grace. Tuesday was art day.
Her brows pinched, but she nodded and hesitantly left my side.
Alone again, I squeezed at the headache that was my thoughts and rubbed my eyes, willing them to stay dry. Spiraling between memories of my grandmother that clinched at my heart and dread at the hypocritical speech I would be giving this evening.
Where’s your honesty, Cienna?
The classroom walls began to cave in on me.
I was suffocating, and stepping into the hallway would feel no different.
Snagging my purse and shoving my prepared speech inside, I popped my head into the copy room. “Michelle, can you dismiss the students today? I need to run an errand.”
Who knew where I was headed, but I needed some time away from here.