Page 83 of One More Chapter
My brother, with his short, curt nod, is the final affirmation that I need. Something within me buzzes, and for once, it isn’tbees shooting off in every direction. For once, I see an end goal, and a path to take me there.
“How long until you’re out of that thing?” Aaron asks, indicating the sling that has held my brother captive now for weeks. Ian grunts, shaking his head.
“Sore subject,” I supply. “Someonecouldn’t help himself, and reaggravated the injury.”
“Ouch.”
“Bigouch,” I chuckle, tipping back my beer. “Tell ‘em how you did it.”
Ian sighs, shaking his head before raking his good hand through his long, dark, motorcycle-man hair.
“My neighbor’s roof was leaking. She has no husband, and it was puddling right into her son’s bedroom. Would’ve cost a fortune to patch if she would have called in a company.”
He doesn’t mention to the guys that the aforementioned neighbor’s son is our fire alarm culprit.
“Four more weeks in the saddle.” I clap my brother on his good shoulder, and if looks could kill, I’d be dead in my unfinished living room.
thirty-one
penelope
“Alright,people. Put your midterms in the turn-in bin on the way out. You are officially home free for the week. Make good choices!”
I give the spiel to my last period class like a robot. But they wouldn’t know. I’m like one of those animatronics at Disney that Aaron keeps raving about—like an actress with one final performance to give before she gets a sabbatical.
I have equally been looking forward to and dreading Thanksgiving break. On the one hand, I get a week off—much needed by this point. The students are getting restless, making the teachers short fused. We could all benefit from a little week-long separation.
Although, I have to say, this behavior program that Ant has implemented is kind of magical. I don’t want to speak too soon, but with permission to use some of the frequent fliers from our classes, he has severely cut down on the amount of times we’ve had to conference with a kid or call home to report behavior.
Still. I’m drained. I need the break.
I slump into my seat as the final bell rings, not even bothering to stand in the hall today to see the kids out. I simply don’t have it in me.
“Got any big plans for the week off?” Hank, the retiring English teacher from Meadow Ridge, asks as he takes his tweed jacket from the back of Ant’s desk chair and lays it over the crook of his elbow.
“Not thinking about congruence and similarity of shapes, that’s for sure.” I barely crack a smile to meet his. “What about you?”
“Me and the missus are headed up to Vermont to see our kids.”
“How many do you have?”
“Three. And seven grands. It’s nice that they’re the hosts now. I just get to show up and be Grandpa.”
My heart swells in both envy and longing.
I had no grandparents to see on holidays—Mom’s parents disowned her for the final time when she went on a rebellious streak and stolemoney from them, and I couldn’t even tell you what my father looked like, let alone who his parents are.
All of a sudden, a flicker of Ant with a redheaded little version of him on his shoulders stumbles into view. I’m so thankful for Hank’s pat on my shoulder, because that fantasy surely would have spiraled me to the point of no return.
“Take some time off, kiddo. You’re doing an excellent job.”
I wish him a happy holiday, but remain in my own desk chair, slumped so that my butt is barely on the edge of the leather seat, neck bent at an odd angle. I’m a blob of a human, weighed down to the deep end of where I am and what I’m doing here.
I don’t know how much longer I can do this.
Teach.
The same routine day in and day out, year after year. I know my curriculum and material like the back of my hand. I could teach this content in my sleep. Numbers have structure, which is why I chose to teach math. Teaching is an everlasting job insome way shape or form, which is why I majored in it—that, and the summers off, to still enjoy a little bit of freedom.