Two #2
Crawling beneath the covers I tried to focus on the white noise of the waves playing on my phone. I tried thinking about happy times, like how well the girls played today. They really were awesome. Instead, I dreamed about him again.
Despite the sunshine it was a bit chilly.
The cold metal design of the chair seat pressed right through the skirt I was wearing.
A skirt that presently lived in the back of my closet.
My eyes lingered on the thick powerful arms filling the brown leather sheepskin jacket.
His lips were moving but I couldn’t hear the words over the rushing sound of water.
His short beard shimmered in the sun, the light highlighting bits of red and blond in the light brown whiskers.
Time moved so slowly and I couldn’t look away, taking in the purse and smile of his mouth as he spoke, wordlessly.
A mouth I’d just seen today. But it couldn’t be the same mouth.
I’d dreamed this dream before. What would those dream lips feel like?
Were they soft or strong? I looked away gazing down to his hand next to the steaming cup of coffee.
His fingers weren’t delicate, and tiny white scars decorated them, but his movements were deliberate.
Involuntarily, I reached out to touch his hand and looked up to his eyes, those smiling eyes decorated with lines of living, as my father called them.
As our fingers connected, I woke up again, and again, and again.
My morning was a wreck. I couldn’t get out of bed when the alarm rang, and when I finally did pull myself out, I had to rush through the shower.
There was no stopping for a croissant on the way to work.
I had to settle for a packaged breakfast bar, which put me in a mood. I really felt sorry for my students.
It took that twerp Ryan Dixon in second period to make me forget about the dream.
He whined about his C–minus when I handed back his lab write up.
What do you expect when you eat half your M&Ms before you’re finished with the lab and don’t account for them.
His lab partner at least kept track and noted the discrepancy, he got a B-plus.
When the bell rang, I was ready for the mid-morning break.
Passing the last student exiting my class, my best friend Fiona strode in carrying a coffee refresh.
“Good job last night,” she said, filling the empty mug on my desk.
It read “Sea Lion Wrestler” and bore a silhouette of a woman riding a sea lion.
Fiona had bought it for me on our trip down the coast. “I think the JV girls are going to go farther than the varsity boys this year. But you didn’t hear that from me. ”
“But you did hear it from me,” Mia said as she sauntered in from the crush of the hallway now filled with the flow of teenagers on their morning break. Mia’s pregnant belly was beginning to look more uncomfortable than cute.
Mia, Fiona and I all taught freshman and sophomore heavy course loads.
Mia taught U.S. History, and Fiona was the very typical English teacher, with crazy curls of hair caught in her dangly earrings and chunky necklaces.
While we were roughly the same age, Fiona had taught at Lewis and Clark for almost a decade, even student teaching here.
Active in the teacher’s union, Fiona was considered one of the old guard by most of the new teachers hired a few years ago.
She also loved road trips which led the three of us to that drive up the coast.
“Yea but they can’t do anything to you now that you’re ‘with child.’” Fiona scoffed at Mia. “Me, they are just waiting to grind the ax on.”
“The administration isn’t still sore about the contract negotiations last year, are they?” I asked, checking the room for straggling students who might overhear.
“You bet they are. With that new group on the school board it’s every nickel and dime for itself. It looks like they are going to fire Hansen at the end of the year. Well, not renew his contract, but it’s the same thing.”
Mia scowled, which made her tiny face crinkle in a cute way, entirely undermining her scowl. “He’s a great math teacher, what happened?”
Fiona snorted. “He organized the parent support group last year.”
“But they can’t fire him for that,” I protested.
“Ah, but that put the target on him. Last summer he went on a couple dates with Melony Mickleson.”
“Kyle Mickleson’s—”
“Aunt, not mom,” Fiona answered the question I’d started to ask.
Kyle Mickleson was the senior quarterback last year.
Super nice kid, straight shooter, not a great passer, but a solid team captain.
“Melony helped out with the PTA, single mom with two kids in elementary school, but living with Kyle’s parents. ”
“Oh,” Mia said.
“Oh, what?” I asked.
“He didn’t disclose,” Mia said.
“Didn’t.” Fiona agreed. “I hear he thought that because Kyle had graduated early he didn’t need to, and she wasn’t his parent, but the Board said it was the same school year, and same household so the disclosure was still required. So, they didn’t renew his contract.”
“That is underhanded,” Mia groaned.
“Totally,” Fiona nodded. “And word is Mr. Lambert turned him in.”
“What’s underhanded?” I asked, feeling dumb and confused.
Sighing, Fiona glanced at Mia’s just curving belly before turning to me. “District fraternization policy requires any romantic relations between staff and the family of students at the same school to be disclosed and preapproved by the Board.”
“What?” I coughed.
“Yup. I mean it’s from a good place originally.
The policy keeps teachers from being investigated for favoritism or student bias, but Hansen’s case is a bit of stretch,” Fiona stopped abruptly as a student in my third period walked in.
“You getting enough sleep Mia?” Fiona asked, changing the conversation.
“Second trimester was when I started noticing my body wasn’t mine anymore. ”
“I’m fine,” Mia dismissed the question. “I just keep dreaming about grape soda which is really weird since that stuff tastes like cough syrup.” Now that Fiona mentioned it, Mia did look a bit worn, some puffiness around the eyes maybe.
The two-minute bell rang and Fiona topped off my mug again before heading back out to her classroom. Mia grinned before following Fiona out, “Your girls really rocked it out there. Tell them I said that.”
“Will do,” I agreed before sinking back into my thoughts of the dream of a man I’d never met before–until yesterday.
Who also was Jackie Mace’s uncle, but had my dad’s eye shape, and hands I wanted to hold.
Who I wasn’t going to see again so none of this should matter anyway.
Lost in the space between sleep and yesterday the tardy bell and a full classroom caught me off guard.
With a jump I nervously addressed my students, staggering into an explanation of the importance of recording lab data. Discrepancies needed to be explained.