17. Emily
Emily
2019
“ D on’t forget, that open house is tonight. I’d love to see your faces and meet your parents.” I announce it to my kids as a final reminder at the end of the day.
“Bye, Ms. Bailey,” they say in unison as they walk out of the door.
My fourth year of teaching has just started and I’m feeling good about it. These kids make my days better. Yes, they can test my patience like no other, but when it comes down to it they’re all eager to learn. And I’m eager to teach them.
They may be first graders, but I plan on slipping some real-life information into their brains. And that’s what I plan on talking about at the open house. I want the parents to know what I have planned for them. Where I studied, where I come from, and why I got into teaching. I want the parents of my students to know that they can come to me with whatever.
A knock on my door pulls me out of my head. “Hey, are you ready for tonight?” Melissa the teacher across the hall asks me. Since we both started teaching the same year at this school, we’ve become close.
“Yeah. But I’ll probably come back before and finish setting up. Are you up for dinner before then?” I ask while putting some of my things in my tote bag.
“Mm-hmm. Just let me go home and get a shower to change and then we’ll meet up.”
“Sounds like a plan. See you in a bit.” I wave her off before putting my focus back on my things.
Before I walk out of my classroom, I make a physical list of what I need to do before tonight. It’s not much, but once I have all of that down, I head out.
I’m so thankful that my apartment isn’t too far from the school. It’s about fifteen minutes, but with traffic, the drive can take up to thirty minutes. That’s living in the city for you.
When I open the door to my apartment my cat, Biscuit, greets me with a meow for food. “Hi, sweet girl.”
I pick her up and smother her with some kisses before setting her down to get ready.
I’m still living in the apartment that my parents chose for me when I left Pennsylvania. It’s got exposed brick on the walls that line the fully equipped kitchen, an airy living room, a spacious primary bedroom, and a guest room that primarily serves as Biscuit’s room. Each floor only has two units which makes living here a peaceful place. I’ve thought about moving and getting a house, but it’s just me and my cat. I have no need for a bigger space when everything fits in my room and the spare room.
Thirty minutes later I’m dressed and ready to meet Melissa. We meet at a fast food Italian restaurant and then talk about little things. Melissa is from Arizona, but she went to school in Ohio. She never planned to move back home unless she had to, but the stars aligned for her and here she is. She and her boyfriend of four years live together and they have plans to start looking for a house soon.
Do I feel a pang of sadness…even jealousy when I hear this? Of course. Because that should be me and despite the envy, I’m happy for my new friend.
An hour later, we’re both back at the school along with some other teachers putting the final touches on our rooms. Music is blasting through the intercom making our tasks that much easier. At fifteen minutes til, the principal comes over the intercom to turn off the music and let us know that it’s almost time.
I never remember my open houses to be like this. This nervous energy of meeting the person who’s responsible for your child for seven hours. Of course, I can hardly remember that far back…so maybe I’ll have to ask my parents if they remember anything.
Whipping out my phone, I quickly send a text to my girls.
Me: Drinks tonight? I have an open house and I’m gonna need something stronger than water.
Jax: I’m in!
Sarah: Me too!
Kam: No question about it
Me: Yay! I’ll let you know when I’m done. Usual place? Monty’s?
Jax: *thumbs up emoji*
Sarah: Ditto
Kam: *pointing up arrow*
“I know it’s tough to put this much trust in a fourth-year teacher. It’s even difficult because I’m still young. But I promise, I will help your child through everything,” I address the room of parents that have raised some concerns.
“What about loss? I know this isn’t your area of expertise, but I’m wondering how you’ll handle it. My teachers never really understood. So, say an older relative passes and our child is sad about it. You’re not a counselor. But are we supposed to think that you’re equipped to handle something like this, or have even gone through something like that?” A parent voices.
I take a cleansing breath and walk over to sit on top of my desk while addressing the parents. “My fiancé died in a car accident. I heard every form of condolence and sayings that you’re still here . As if telling me that I’m still here was going to help. It was tough to go through. I retreated for a while and I’ll understand if your kid does too. I’m not saying that my loss is any different from any of your child’s potential losses, but I will help them through that. Without knowing it, your kids have helped me immensely.
“When you pull your child out of class, I will understand. I will work with them when they return to catch them up. If your child breaks down in class because they miss them, I understand too. I’m not here to judge your children. I’m here to help them and teach them. Real life experiences are never too soon to begin even with them being so young. And even for them to learn that loss does happen, and that they will get through it.”
I get appreciative nods from some of the uneasy parents. And hopefully gain their respect.
Before more questions are asked, the principal comes over the intercom announcing that our two hours are up.
A few of the parents walk up after the open-house has ended to speak personally to me. It touches me to know that their child likes me and the way that I teach. I walk the last parent to the door and look across the hall to see Melissa still talking to some parents.
I go back into my room and gather up my stuff and send a wave to her when she glances my way. Then I send a text to the girls.
Me: I’m out! See you soon!
I walk into Monty’s and search for my girls. It’s a Tuesday night so the bar is empty. With a quick scan I come up empty and determine that they’re still on the way. So I take a seat at the bar to pass the time.
“What can I getcha?” The bartender asks me and places a small napkin in front of me with a glass of water.
“May I get a Moscow Mule with Stoli, please?” I ask and peel my jacket off before laying it on the back of the barstool and climbing up, keeping my clutch next to me.
“Coming right up.”
Expressing to the parents the loss that I’ve been through was harder than I thought. I hadn’t talked about James openly like that in a long time. I also had no plans to. It was both comforting and unsettling.
“Here you go, sweetheart. Start a tab? Or close it out?”
I ponder that for a minute before I slide my card to him. “Thank you. Start a tab, please.”
Once he walks away, I continue to wallow in my misery. They say misery loves company. But I have no company. Just my misery.
It’s been two years, Em . I tell myself. Yeah but two years of him gone does little to erase the ten years of memories that we have together.
Had together.
October 2009
“What was the surprise you had for me?” I ask James.
With my crying from my parents, I forgot that’s why I was originally supposed to come over here.
He gets up from the top step and holds his hand out for me. “Come on. Let me show you.”
Placing my hand in his, he pulls me up and together we walk back towards his bedroom. I shake off my parents being here and James’s big declaration and focus on him. We walk back into his bedroom and he closes the door behind him.
“Now that I think about it, it’s not a grand surprise. But the idea came to me and I ran with it.” James confesses when we’re back in his room.
“You know I’ll love anything you gift me.” I lean up and kiss him on the cheek, then I go and sit back on his bed cross-leg.
“Close your eyes.”
“Baby, seriously?” I look at him as if he’s serious.
His arms cross over his chest making the sleeves pull taught. As he’s gotten older he’s continued to fill out. With him choosing to not playing a sport in college he’s been hitting the gym to keep in shape. But with our personal extracurriculars, I’ve told him that should be enough. That earned me three extra orgasms. I didn’t complain at all.
I narrow my eyes at him before relenting. My hands go over my eyes too, just to appease him. “Does this work?”
“Yes, smartypants,” I hear a rustling and then nothing. “Okay, you can open your eyes now.”
He places the box in my held out hands. I give it a little shake just for reassurance.
“Just open it, ya goof.”
James sits on the bed next to me and waits with bated breath as I lift the top off the box.
A collage of our time together greets me in a picture frame. Movie ticket stubs, photo booth pictures, a napkin from the ice cream shop, a picture of me practicing, James in his football uniform with me after a game, and so many more mementos of us in the three years we’ve been together.
“I love it,” I tell James with tears in my eyes. “I love you.” Leaning forward I place my lips to his but he pulls back.
“I love you too, my Emmy.” He announces.
I love it when he calls me that. “What else do you love about me?” I ask as I crawl into his lap and straddle him.
“How strong you are.” James declares and then suddenly flips our positions. His body fits in the cradle of my legs perfectly. He places his arms on either side of my head and traces over my face with his gaze. “I wanna spend the rest of my life with you. I want the house, the kids, the movie nights, and ice cream dates. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Emily Marie Bailey. I love you more than the words I just said.”
The tears that were once sad from neglect have turned to happiness from the love that James has given me. I nod and smile through the emotions. Pulling him closer to seal our lips together.