Chapter 18 Owen
O f course she’s not at lunch.
And neither is Noah. Damn, I wanted to catch up with him before today, but unpacking my essentials and prepping what I could for my syllabi took over these past few days.
Beth waves me over to her table with Mr. Johnson, which immediately brings me relief at not having to feel lost while looking for her.
“Owen, it’s good to have you back,” someone from a table with science and math teachers says.
Honestly, I can’t pinpoint the voice between the four of them and they’re all staring at me expectantly. As best I can, I give them all a nod and say, “Thanks, I’m happy to prove myself this year.”
Happy to prove myself? Why the hell did I say that? It’s not as if I didn’t do a great job last semester. I now know that my interview process went really well and the reason I didn’t receive the first offer was because of my experience level. I’m not some newbie fresh out of student teaching.
I’m damn good at what I do.
“Of course, I’d love to see it,” Beth replies to something Mr. Johnson said and he’s rolling up his sleeve, exposing his forearm.
“It’s the view from the top of the mountain this summer,” he explains to me.
Sure enough, wrapping completely around his arm, just below his elbow, is a panoramic view of a mountain range.
“He was just telling me about visiting the Tetons for the first time. He and Barbara took a few tours and are hoping to retire there one day.” I send Beth a grateful smile at filling me in without getting a long-winded version from the source. My mind keeps trying to fixate on my “lack” of qualifications, which have never bothered me before, and wanting to worry about what Poppy must be thinking. Neither are helping me do my job.
I can’t do anything about Poppy until I have a chance to talk to her. I can’t do that until I see her. As far as my qualifications go, my experience, even if it’s not fifteen years worth, has all been stellar. I’m not some prodigy, but I’m damn good at teaching.
Great, I’ve already spaced out as Brian points out the different peaks, naming each one and giving a small anecdote about something they saw or learned. By the time he’s done, I’m halfway done with my lunch.
“How was your summer, Owen? It was your first one spent in Honey Cove, right?” he asks as he takes a massive bite of his sandwich.
“My family would visit over Christmas, and when I was younger, we’d spend a long weekend here during the summer. So I think it’s safe to say this is my first real summer in Honey Cove and I love the change of pace from New York,” I say, meaning every word. “This summer was plenty busy though. My cousin who lives in Maple Springs got married, and since we’re all living around here, we kind of made the most of it.”
“I grew up there, but I haven’t met any Wrights in Maple Springs,” he chuckles. “You might win an award because I thought I knew everyone in that town.”
“My mother’s family is here and she took my father’s name when they married. My cousin is Brandon Taylor,” I explain between bites of my sandwich.
“Oh, the Taylors,” he says while clapping his hands once. “Yes, they have two sons, right?”
I nod and he continues into the little ways he’s known them which gives Beth and me a chance to finish our lunches without having to talk much more.
Now I know why my colleague picked this table.
***
The damn printer is jammed again. Sighing, I open up the familiar door and pull out the section where most of the jams happen. This monstrosity has plenty of places where a torn piece of paper can be hiding though, so when I only come across half a sheet, I know I’ll be digging around for a bit.
As efficient as this machine is, when it jams, it really makes a mess of things. But I just want to get in and out before everyone will be printing everything later this week so I’m less in my head about feeling unprepared.
“Oh.” The word is softly spoken, but I didn’t even hear the door open, let alone someone enter.
Poppy.
Her voice is unmistakable with its lilt. I disentangle myself the best I can without making a mess and look up to see her bright brown eyes. Her bangs frame her face and there’s a blush starting to appear on her cheeks that remind me of that night.
“I was hoping to see you,” I blurt before I second guess myself since she looks decidedly less angry than this morning.
“You were?” A little skepticism replaces her initial surprise.
“I had been passed over for the job. Erin called before the wedding letting me know they were going with someone else and I hadn’t even told my parents because I didn’t want to take anything away from the wedding.” I can hear that I’m rambling but can’t do anything about it. “I knew who you were, sort of. You were the art teacher who was on leave and Andi’s best friend, but I didn’t talk to anyone about your leave.”
I didn’t talk to anyone about your leave? What the hell is wrong with me? Groaning, I run my hand down my face as she stares at me.
“I would have never let anything happen without you knowing we were coworkers if I had gotten the job sooner. Oh god, not that I ‘let’ anything happen or normally ‘let’ something happen with a coworker.” Why am I using air quotes? “I just…I don’t regret anything and am not trying to make it sound that way, but even an English teacher can be terrible with words. We’re coworkers now and I’d like us to be friends too.”
She bursts out laughing. Her eyes widen in shock after the initial outburst and she claps a hand over her mouth to stifle the sound. I’m immediately reminded of how my mouth stifled very different sounds not so long ago, but those thoughts have to remain memories.