27. Mia
TWENTY-SEVEN
Mia
It’s Thursday, the day of the meeting with Principal Thomas.
I haven’t seen Elias all week. Well, I’ve seen him in the mornings, and he’s looked exhausted, with huge, dark bags under his eyes. He hasn’t said much on our commute to work. He said he’s been busy with things at his gym, and he’s been getting home after I go to bed.
I’ve seen him when I drop my class off and pick them up. My kids are always so happy when I pick them up. I smile at Elias every time. I’ve gotten a nod in return.
“What’s going on?” I whisper to him on a day he’s looking particularly rough.
“A lot going on,” he mutters, before turning around and walking back into the gym.
But right now, our little WoW group is gathered in the staff lounge, on our turf. We’re inviting Principal Thomas here to speak with us. Everyone is here except for Elias.
“Have you seen Elias?” I ask Georgia.
She shrugs. “I saw him earlier today when I walked past the first floor.”
Lina is nervously pacing the room. “He’s not coming,” she tells us.
I frown. “What do you mean?”
She stops her pacing and looks at me. “What do you mean, what do I mean? Why would he come?”
“Because… he’s been a part of this since the beginning?” I say incredulously. “Because he’s our Lax Bro Captain America? Because Thomas might actually listen to him? Because he has all our notes?”
Lina looks at me, a little concerned, searching my face. “He sent me all the notes already. But why would he come to this meeting when his last day is tomorrow?” she asks me slowly.
My stomach drops. “What?!”
“His gym?” she says, as if she’s reminding me. “It’s doing really well, isn’t it? That’s what he told me on Monday. He’s leaving PS 2 to go and do it full time.”
Buzzing fills my ears.
Lina is still looking at me. “Mia? Are you okay? Did?—”
“What is this?” Principal Thomas stands in the doorway of the staff lounge.
Lina whirls around. She gathers herself in a way that I find myself entirely unable to do after that news. Last day? What?
“Good afternoon, Principal Thomas,” Lina says, her chin up and shoulders back. “We’re here to have an honest conversation about some of the curricular choices in this school.”
Our principal’s face twists in rage. “Is this some sort of coup?” she hisses.
No one answers, because we’re all a bit taken aback. Emmanuel’s face is one of abject horror, one hand placed over his heart.
Lina is unfazed, as if she knows that this is what our principal has been like all along. “This is not a coup. This is a conversation. Please sit,” she says gently, gesturing to a chair.
She doesn’t sit. She crosses her arms and stands in the doorway instead.
“We want to talk to you about the Words of Wonder curriculum you’ve chosen for our school,” Lina begins anyway. “We are a group of veteran educators, veteran to the PS 2 community, who would like to share some concerns about the program. We’ve collected and analyzed some historical data about PS 2’s previous curriculum, and we’ve determined?—”
“Have you all not been teaching Words of Wonder in your classrooms to fidelity?” Thomas asks us.
It’s my turn. “We’ve still followed your directives. We’ve taught the curriculum two or three days a week while continuing some of our own?—”
“So, no,” Thomas scoffs condescendingly. “You haven’t taught the curriculum to fidelity. Anyone else?”
My coworkers murmur their agreement.
“You?” She points at Emmanuel, who shakes his head. “You?” She points to a first grade teacher, Susan. It’s clear she’s doing this because she has no idea what any of our names are.
“So none of you have followed my explicit directives?—”
“Respectfully,” Lina cuts in, “I’d have to take responsibility for that. I told them to try it?—”
Thomas nods once. “So everyone here in this room is going to be written up for insubordination, including yourself, Ms. Sanchez.”
Everyone is shocked into silence. Emmanuel’s mouth is now wide open.
Georgia makes a last attempt. “Why can’t you just hear us out?—”
“I don’t know what your relationship ,” she sneers, “was with your last principal, but it’s not going to fly here with me.”
Georgia glares back.
What the fuck is happening? Did you seriously just pour all your professional heart and soul into something that’s going to get you written up? The conference, the notes, for nothing?
On Thomas’s way back out the door, she remembers something. “Ms. Sanchez, please provide me with the names of everyone in this room.”
The door shuts behind her.
“The fuck just happened?!” Georgia whisper-shrieks.
Lina sits down, putting her elbows on her knees, pushing her hands through her hair. She blows out a breath. “I’m really sorry, everyone.”
“I’ve… never been written up in my life,” I whisper.
Susan waves her hand. “We’re tenured, and we have a union. We’ll be fine. I’ve been written up lots of times in my twenty-two years of service.”
“And it’ll disappear off our record after a year,” Georgia mutters, looking particularly irritated.
“So don’t worry about it, sis,” Emmanuel says to Lina, rubbing her back. “We’re all adults here. It’s not your fault.”
We all agree.
“But what the fuck are we supposed to do tomorrow?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, we have to teach the curriculum tomorrow.”
Lina sighs. “At least it’s all scripted. You don’t have to prep anything. Just read directly from the teacher’s guide.”
We cringe.
Lina stands up to go. “All right. I’m gonna go throw myself in front of a city bus now. See everyone tomorrow. I really appreciate all of your time and support. Even if it was all wasted. I won’t forget it.”
We all sadly watch her go.
Emmanuel turns to me after Lina leaves. “What’s this about Elias?”
Fuck . “I don’t know…”
“What do you mean you don’t know? Aren’t you two a thing?”
I shrug. “I don’t know… Not explicitly, I guess.”
“Well, what the fuck do you know?!” Emmanuel shrieks.
Georgia chimes in. “Even if you’re not explicitly a thing, haven’t you known each other since the womb or something?”
I close my eyes.
“It seems like something you should tell your Womb Friend,” Emmanuel snorts.
“I’d be pissed.” Georgia tells Emmanuel.
“Gagged,” Emmanuel replies.
I think about it. I’m fucking pissed. This is definitely something you would tell your Womb Friend, lifelong-sex-friends or not.
It’s time for a reckoning. It’s time to pull up your Hot Girl Pants for real, Mia. Make him see you.
I sit on the couch that evening, waiting for him to come home.
He doesn’t get back until late, almost ten o’clock. Past our bedtime.
He walks in the door, glances at me on the couch, throws his stuff on the ground, and keeps walking towards the kitchen.
“Elias.”
He stops.
“Come sit here,” I say, patting the couch.
“I gotta?—”
“Sit. Here.”
He walks over and plops down with a good few inches between us.
“Why didn’t you tell me that you were leaving?” I demand to know.
He shrugs.
“Regardless of what this is, Elias, I’m still one of your closest friends. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“What is this, exactly?” he asks me for the second time this week, and it almost sounds like a dare. This time, I’m ready for it.
“It’s something at the very least where you would tell your second oldest friend some pretty huge fucking news about yourself.”
He shrugs again. “It’s not like it’s a real job.”
I freeze.
He doesn’t notice, because he’s not looking at me. He’s looking at the wall, almost… bored. “Let’s go back, though, Mia. What is this between us?”
I glare at him, adrenaline slowly building, stacking like blocks in my spine. The lessons, the confidence. Chin up. Tits out. See me . “This isn’t lifelong friends with benefits anymore, Elias.”
He glances at me with green eyes and crow’s feet. His summer freckles are long gone.
“I can’t do that anymore. I can’t be just friends with benefits anymore,” I tell him. “This has become way more than that to me over the last few weeks. It started off the way it did, and I was okay with that for a while. Friends with benefits, just sex and lessons and all that.” I take a deep breath, wishing he would look me in the eye. He’s fidgeting with a thread on his jeans. “And you were really clear. But I think somewhere in the middle, it became bigger than that. And I think it became bigger for you, too.”
He keeps silent.
“I’m sorry that you heard that conversation with Andrea. But you know, Elias, that I trust you, and I respect the hell out of you. You’re annoyingly competent at everything you do, remember? I’ve always been on your side. I’ve always taken you seriously. I’m upset that you didn’t tell me, but that doesn’t take away how proud I am of you. But I always knew you could do it.”
The thread he’s pulling out of his jeans gets longer and longer.
I put my hand over his fidgeting fingers. “Will you please look at me?”
He turns to look at me, and I’m a little surprised. His green eyes are dull. Flat. Devoid of the sparkle usually reserved for me.
I move closer to him, my knees touching his thighs. I hold his face in one of my hands, but he tears away, clenching his fists, putting inches between us, the reaction tearing me apart.
But I don’t let it deter me. “You’ve taught me how to stand up for myself, Elias. To make sure that people see me. To have confidence, even if I’m faking it. I think you’ve been doing that in little ways my entire life.” I take a deep breath. “I need to tell you this. I can’t do the friends with benefits thing anymore, Elias, because I love?—”
“Stop,” he says suddenly, cutting off my impending declaration. He’s not looking at me anymore.
My mouth snaps shut.
“I think that you got way too caught up in this, Meems.” My heart sinks, face starting to get hot. I cringe at the fucking nickname. “I was very clear with you when we started this. This was just sex. And I think that you’re confusing lust and infatuation and all that shit with actual feelings?—”
“Are you… gaslighting me?” I whisper, outraged, unbelieving. “Will you fucking look at me?” I ask, louder this time.
He does, and his eyes haven’t changed. He looks at me blankly. “You’re confusing what this is because we’ve known each other forever. I love you, too, Meems—” my heart rate jumps “—but I love you like a sister. The sex was just sex, and I’m sorry you got attached,” he says, dismissing me and not sounding like he’s sorry at all.
I stare at him, at his Adam’s apple bob when he swallows, feeling like someone’s reached into my throat and yanked my intestines out. “Are you fucking serious right now?” I don’t recognize my voice.
“Relax, Meems?—”
I stand up, wanting or needing someone more, ready to rage and kick and scream and shake him. “I just told you that I’m fucking in love with you after being together and fucking cuddling and sleeping together in the same bed every single night for the last two, fucking three months, and you tell me to relax ?! That you love me like a sister ?!”
“That’s my fault,” he says blandly. “I do love you like a sister. Your older brother is my best friend in the whole world. It’s time we stopped this. I shouldn’t have stayed over so many times. It blurred the lines, made it confusing?—”
“Stayed… What?! Leo?! Are we back to this? Why the fuck are you doing this, Elias?” I hiss at him. “This was more than that. I know you know it was much more than that.”
He shrugs.
“What happened?” I whisper. “What’s happening?”
“What do you mean?”
“You stood up to my family for me. You made me do it myself. You couldn’t keep your fucking hands off me. You acted like I was yours . Like you loved me , too.”
His hand twitches at his side. There is a small flicker of something in his eyes, but it’s gone so fast that I’m not sure it was there in the first place. “That wasn’t real.”
I’m pacing now. “I don’t believe you. If I brought a guy home right now, if I brought Adam home, you wouldn’t be upset? This was truly always just sex for you?”
“That was the point of all of this, Meems. For you to become a man-eater. For you to become just like me. Why would I be upset?” he replies. He stands up to go. “Listen, I’m really beat after today. I’m gonna go put my stuff away and pass out.”
I gape after him like a fish, not believing, my chest heavy. Insignificant… second best… that’s all I hear a snarling Elias saying in my head.
“Needless to say, I think the lessons are over,” he throws over his shoulder on the way out of the room, a nonchalant add-on, in the way someone would say by the way, there’s food in the fridge for you . “I’m sorry, again, Meems.”
I let him walk away.