Chapter 43
Cienna
Walking through the halls the day after Founder’s Day felt completely different.
All of the beautiful work from the students was still proudly displayed.
Additional banners from yesterday’s events were added.
But my heart didn’t squeeze like it had just twenty-four hours before.
Not in grief, not in pride, it was just empty.
I thought I’d hit the ground running today. A whole new day with the lies off the table and my focus realigned with my goal. Maybe it would come after the dust from our breakup settled. But until then, misery, regret, and self-loathing were at the center of my mind.
We couldn’t. We shouldn’t have, and we couldn’t.
My mantra for the day, to remind me why my heart felt splintered. For a good and real reason. But what really flowed through my mind was no more little donuts. The words were harmless, simple. But they drove through me like a dagger, a hit that I deserved.
I settled in my classroom, sipped my coffee, and prepared for the day ahead, hoping my work with my students would solidify my reasonings. Reinvigorate my purpose.
The warning bell rang, and a squeal sounded from the doorway as Abigail ran and squeezed my leg tight.
The entrance was empty, and I had no idea who dropped her off.
It was probably for the best that I didn’t see Reed first thing this morning.
Abigail was already a reminder enough that I burst this beautiful bubble of ours.
I looked around the classroom and homed in on my grandmother’s favorite quote, displayed since the first day of school.
Everything is Figureoutable.
I took a deep breath, knelt down to hug Abigail, and re-centered myself. This classroom was what deserved my energy, and I could figure the rest out as I went.
For the rest of the morning, my mind was focused.
The children got the attention they deserved from a devoted teacher.
One who lived the HEART vision. But when I sat down at my desk at lunch, I slumped, drained and hollow.
I barely had the motivation or energy to send out a mayday in my bestie group text.
Lucy was the first one in my classroom, literally a minute later. She was slightly out of breath, clutching her lunch bag to herself. “What happened?”
Right behind her was Darcy, a Diet Coke in one hand and Doritos in the other. “Whose kneecaps am I taking out?”
I rubbed my hand down my face, then let out a giggle because I wouldn’t want them any other way. Questions poured my way before the two even made it across the room to smother me in a group hug. “What did he do?” “What do you need?” and, of course, “If he touches you again, I’ll break his hands.”
The hugging stopped as Lucy and I stared questioningly at Darcy. Her eyes widened as she took a step back. “What?”
Lucy patted her head. “You need to slow down on those dark romance novels, sweetie.”
Darcy just shrugged. “Okay, we have twenty-three minutes to plot this murder. Please give us the details.”
“Ooh, murder! Sounds fun.” Kennedy bounced into the room. All three of us shushed her as if we were actually in the middle of a murder brainstorming sesh.
We all sat at one of my tiny tables, grunting into the little seats. Lucy, Kennedy, and Darcy started munching on their lunches, but I couldn’t even fathom eating. “Okay, so who are we killing, and why?” Kennedy asked, her voice more hushed and wary.
“We’re not killing anyone, guys.” Tears welled up in my throat before I could even consider how to explain.
With an exhale, I let the words escape. “Reed and I broke up. We just couldn’t keep lying.
It was wrong, and it was…” I trailed off, wiping a tear from my cheek and looking down at my hands. “It was just wrong.”
Silence rang through the room. I’d never seen my chaotic group of friends sit more quietly, each focusing on their lunches. Not a single one of them even looked up.
“So I guess I just needed…” I looked around the table at Darcy crunching Doritos, orange dust flying, Lucy carefully unwrapping a delicatessen-style sandwich, and Kennedy swirling around something green and blended in a bottle, sipping with a straw. “I guess I just needed you guys.”
Lucy placed her hand on my arm with a smile, one that didn’t quite hit her eyes, but a reassuring gesture nonetheless.
Darcy crumpled her bag, walked over to the recycling can, and tossed it in, then stood behind me.
Her hands sat on my shoulders, and she kissed the top of my head. “We’re always here for you, Cici.”
Kennedy noisily slurped the last of her smoothie. “Who broke up with whom?”
I sort of knew the answer, but also, it was a fog of emotions and tears and suffocating sadness. “Um, it’s hard to say.” My chin quivered. “I initiated it…” I fumbled with my hands on my lap as a few more tear drops slid down my face. “But by the end of the conversation, it was mutually agreed.”
There was more silence and obnoxiously awkward shifting. “You guys are acting weird. Is this where you tell me you told me so or something?”
Darcy huffed, “We did not tell you so.”
Lucy and Kennedy both shook their heads, agreeing with Darcy.
“We told you to get some hot ginger ass, Cici, and you rose to the challenge.” Kennedy fist-pumped, shaking the tiny table. Lucy shot her a glare, but her lips twitched.
“We told you to go after him.” Lucy patted my arm. “And you fell in love.”
Sure did. With both of them. With the potential life we could’ve had. With the kitchen counter.
“Sooo.” I looked around at the group. “You’re saying it’s all your fault and that you owe me?”
Little chuckles bounced around the table. Darcy brought her hands from my shoulders and wrapped me in a hug from behind. “Yes, we owe you, whatever you need.”
The three of them nodded, and the unity of it all tickled at my lips, bringing forth the smallest smile. I looked up toward Darcy with a pout. “Can you break into his house?”
“Yassss!” She grinned.
“And grab my KitchenAid and favorite saucepan?”
She pouted, her shoulders slumping. “You’re the worst crazy ex-girlfriend ever.”
Ex-girlfriend stung.
The warning bell rang, and we all shuffled to clean up and get ready for the second half of the day. Lucy pulled me into a tight hug and told me she loved me. Kennedy smooshed my cheeks in her hands and gave me a pep talk.
Darcy wrapped her arm around me, leaned in, and whispered, “Text me his address.” She winked on her way out, and then I was alone again.
The rest of the day went by quickly, and eventually, the final bell rang. The children put their homework folders in their backpacks, then lined up to be excused, and of course Reed was first at the door to pick up Abigail. For once, I had wished it were Daisy.
Abigail was used to being picked up a few minutes later than most, so she hung around in the back of the line. She came up, excited to be first for once, and hugged Reed. I couldn’t make eye contact with him. Everything was so fresh, so much I still longed for.
Abigail squeezed me around my waist. “Bye, Cici!”
Reed knelt down to Abigail, turning her to face him. I watched from above, listening intently to his quiet voice. “It makes more sense to call Cici Ms. Vilotta at school, don’t you think?”
Abi crinkled her nose. “Why?”
“Well, at school, she is a teacher, right?” She nodded. “And what do we call teachers?”
“Oh, Mrs.!”
Reed’s throat bobbed. “Mm-hmm, or Ms. Mrs. is for when teachers are married.”
“You’ll marry her, and then she will be Mrs., right?
” Luckily, her voice was quiet enough that only I could hear, however much I wished I had moved and let them continue this conversation out of my earshot.
My hand met my chest, instinctively wanting to rub down the surge of pain that kept building and building all day long.
“Ms. Vilotta will marry someone someday,” Reed choked out. He picked her up, tickled her, and walked off. No wave from him. Just a happy little “Goodbye, Ms. Vilotta!” from her. It shouldn’t have made me sad to hear my formal name from her, but disconnecting the “Cici” felt so final.
I said goodbye to my last few students, then tidied the classroom. The final committee meeting was coming up in a couple hours, and I was dreading it. I was already too anxious about seeing Reed, talking to him, and being around him to risk being more jittery with coffee. That’s a first.
Sifting through the pile of art on my desk, I noticed a theme of family portraits until I came to Abi’s.
Her picture showed a stick figure in pants and a shirt, with short, spiky red hair, holding a green ice cream cone.
Then a smaller stick figure in a pink-and-purple dress, big, bright orange curls spiraling from her head, holding a pink ice cream cone.
A third stick figure took up the right side of the drawing, about the size of the first. The person had a blue dress on and was holding a pink ice cream cone, and Abi drew long brown hair in a voluminous ponytail.
I collapsed in the closest seat, my hands trembling. She drew me. She drew that moment.
The door clicked, and I looked up. Karen walked toward me, carrying an envelope. Her brows pinched with concern as I wiped my tears and blinked out a forced smile.
“What’s going on, Cici?” She stood at my side and rubbed my back. “Wow,” she breathed out from above me. “Is that Abigail’s?”
I nodded, shame and guilt and every other emotion clouding my vision, along with tears.
“You’ve made quite an impact on that little girl. I knew you would.” Karen pulled out the chair next to mine. Having her so close made me want to drop my head down into my hands, but I kept my head up.
After a few deep breaths, I turned to her, my lips quivering. “I went too far, Karen.”