Chapter 18 Becca
Becca
The seven students in front of me are already packing up their things before I’ve officially ended class.
“Make sure you read through the syllabus. Summer courses move fast since the quarter is shorter than the others. Make sure you keep track of all due dates.” I say over the sound of shuffling books and bags.
Enrollment in the summer is always low, which is nice because it makes my job easier. Plus, the ones that come in the summer remind me of myself: determined and focused enough not to take the summer off.
“Mrs. Taylor?” a young woman I’ve never taught before says as she approaches my desk.
This has to be her first year. She can’t be any older than nineteen.
"Yes?”
“I won’t be here week four. I’ll be out of town.”
“That’s fine. You can turn in any assignments due before you leave. It’s all in the syllabus.”
She nods, then turns around to leave. Mrs. Taylor.
Sometimes it’s still weird to hear that out loud. I didn’t change my name right away; my high school students knew me as Ms. Lewis, so I just left it alone for a while. It wasn’t until right before this job started that I actually became Mrs. Taylor.
Once the room is empty, I flip through the syllabus myself to see what I need for the next class. Thankfully, it's not a class that requires a lot of prep work, as it’s the first class of just content, just a lot of lecturing by me, and hopefully note-taking by them.
I check my phone to see if Jimmy responded, but nothing. I guess I’m picking out dinner again. I pretty much do every day anyway, since his response will likely say ‘whatever you want.' Normally, that phrase doesn’t bother me a bit, but sometimes I just want him to decide for himself.
In the store, I grab some chicken breasts, mixed greens, blue cheese, tomatoes, and bacon. We already have eggs, avocado, and dressing at home. Cobb salad it is. My phone vibrates.
Doesn't matter to me.
Just as I expected, I hope he remembers what today is, but I doubt he does. As wonderful as he is in many other ways, remembering dates is not one of his strong suits. Right along with making decisions.
Today is my dad’s birthday. I like to remember today and pay no mind to the date he died. He’s another year older today, even if that’s in Heaven now.
He was my everything. My mom left us when I was thirteen, moving in with her new boyfriend and never looking back.
The last time I tried to talk to her was on my sixteenth birthday.
I called and was surprised she answered, but then even more surprised when I heard a baby crying in the background.
She was in a hurry to get off the phone since I called right in the middle of my brother’s nap time. So I just let her go.
My brother. A baby I didn’t know about until that conversation.
A baby whose name I still don’t even know.
And the fact that she referred to him as ‘my brother’ really hurt.
She was acknowledging that I was her child, too, yet she obviously wanted nothing to do with me.
I never called her again after that day.
Over the years, I’ve wondered what it would be like to know my little brother. I’ve wondered if there’s more. I know it’s not his or their fault, but I can’t have anything to do with her, so I can’t know him or them. Maybe one day, when he’s older, he’ll find me. If he even knows about me.
So, it was just me and my dad. We did everything together. His life revolved around me, and I knew it. He was my best friend until a snowstorm took him from me.
He knew how to drive in the snow, but the car coming from the other direction lost control, not only hitting him head-on, but also sending him into a tree. They think he was gone on impact, and after seeing his truck, I hope he was.
No matter what the official time of death was, he was gone, and I never got to say goodbye.
I was well into my adult years, just months shy of finishing grad school, but felt like a kid again.
I was lost and didn’t know how I was supposed to live without my parent.
I had no other family. He was it, then he was gone.
The only thing left in my life at that point was Jimmy. If I didn’t have him, I honestly don’t know what would’ve happened to me. But he was there, and he was wonderful.
When we got married, he wanted a big wedding. He wanted to do all the things that people normally want to do, but I didn’t. I wanted to marry him, but not have a wedding. Not without my dad. I told him we could just show up at the courthouse, sign some papers, and then be on our way.
He wanted more than that and insisted I did too, but I wasn’t walking down the aisle alone. I wasn’t having a reception without the father-daughter dance we’d rehearsed countless times.
Eventually, we reached the compromise of a backyard wedding. There was no wedding party, no walking down the aisle, no big guest list. I did wear a white dress and veil, but we stood there in front of our immediate family, said our vows, and then we were done.
Once I snapped out of my grief, I was determined to give myself the best life I could. I didn’t have any other choice. I didn’t have parents to fall back on. I had to make it happen, no matter what.
With Jimmy by my side, it was easy. He supported every goal, plan, and idea. I couldn’t have asked for a better partner.
But now I pull into the driveway and see that he’s not home. He hasn’t mentioned anything all day, either, so I am sure he doesn’t remember what today is.
When will you be home?
I text him, then walk into the house. I set everything down and stare at the birthday cake I bought, waiting for a response.
A couple hours still.
He finally says.
Yeah. He definitely doesn’t remember.