Page 8 of One More Chapter
Claire and Nathan are more than welcoming on my first night living with them. We’re settled in for another nineties movie that Claire hasn’t seen—10 Things I Hate About Youtonight—as I let my thoughts swallow me.
I have no place to stay for the foreseeable future that I can call my own. It will take months to repair the damage done by the pipes. While I love Claire to death, and I’m immensely appreciative of her for opening her doors, I cannot live with my boss during the school year. While Icouldmove into a hotel for the time being, the cost of storing all of my things and the headache that would ensue this close to the school year would drive me batshit crazy. To divert that line of thinking, I scroll over to the dark side of my phone.
I have one contact in my blocked list. It’s fruitless though, because my math brain committed those ten digits to memory a long time ago. Between this and the first hundred digits of Pi, I could probably win something on a game show.
Curled up on my boss’s couch, I bite my bottom lip and let my thumb hover over the doomsday button. When I pinch my eyes shut, I can’t bring myself to do it.
Instead, I reach for the lesser of two evils.
The last time we spoke, she was encouraging me not to give up on her son. I don’t have the heart to tell her that he’s the one who gave up on me.
Penelope
Hey, Ms. Debbie. Do you still have our old place? I might need somewhere to crash for a while.
four
penelope
It turns out,Debbie Ellis rents out the place that she and my mom—and, in turn, baby Ant and baby me—lived in once upon a time. The current tenants are there until the end of July, which makes my move-in date the beginning of August. Right in time for back to school.Awesome.
Better than nothing though. It just means that I’m crashing with Claire and Nathan for the time being, which works out perfectly, because he’s still at work every day, and she’s working on her counseling internship during the day. It leaves me alone, in this massive house, to plot. Granted, plotting most days looks like rereading craft books and staring at my character maps wondering where they’re supposed to go.
Today is a welcomed break. Everyone is back in town, and we’re having one more bash in Nathan’s old home before he sells it. We’ve been slinging back beers and playing board games all afternoon. Claire and Nathan just snuck off to “refill the chips”—we all know they’re screwing in the pantry—and Nathan’s phone has been going off nonstop the entire time.
“It’s Don,” Aaron says, mentioning our principal as he lifts the phone from the coffee table.
“Boss man?” Sam asks. “That can’t be good.”
Grim expressions travel around the room as the phone, silenced from a finished call, fires up again. Aaron hollers into the kitchen, and by the time Claire and Nathan are back, there are four missed calls on his phone.
“Hold on. I have an email,” Nathan says. The longer he reads, the paler he becomes. He glances up from his phone, then gets right to the point.
“The boiler system at Meadow Ridge Middle School failed yesterday morning. As they were investigating the damage, they found too much hidden foundational damage to deem the building safe for the upcoming school year.”
Meadow Ridge is whereheworks. Anthony. In the aftermath of Florida, not only did he break up with his girlfriend for a second time and switch districts, but he got a job in the same district as me. Luckily, our schools don’t often mingle, but at just the sound of his school’s name, I tense. My blood runs both ice cold and boiling hot, making me dizzy. The moment Nathan’s scanning gaze lands on me, his eyes almost as sympathetic as his head tilt, I know what’s coming before he has to open his mouth. Still, it doesn’t stop the floor from crumbling beneath me.
“Until further notice, they are splitting students and teachers across the boundary lines. We will have double the class sizes, and you will all more than likely have a co-teacher from Meadow Ridge in your class to accommodate.”
When it rains, it certainly pours.
I block out the pain the only way I know how: Shutting it down and replacing it with anger. Because I don’tneedto ask the question I already know the answer to. Ant teaches eighth grade math, just like I do. It was one of the things we clicked over during that stupid vacation.
My body goes numb, and I’m surprised I can even bite out, “What does that mean?”
Nathan swallows, shaking his head as he pastes on a sympathetic gaze. One that says,I’d fix this if I had the power.
“You and Anthony will be co-teaching this year.”
I have to clarify, just to make sure I’m not stuck in some sort of fever dream.
“MyAnthony?”
“Yes.” He nods, and my heart hits my shoes. “YourAnthony.”
I stand, and bolt out the door. I need the fresh air, and to be away from people so I can break down in peace. Thank God they let me.
The last time I had this feeling was the day I finally accepted that I was going to be left on read. The day I saw him tagged in a photo on Facebook with a woman who wasnotme, twelve days after he’d ignored my last message. Twelve days after we had confirmed a date to meet up and see each other for the first time since Florida. Twelve days after thethirdtime I’d tried to call, just in case.