Where We Left Off

Friday passed quickly. I gave out tests in each one of my classes and filled the silent time with Pinterest searches on appropriate first date attire. Not information I ever thought I’d look up on a women’s crafting site, but I was all about making a good impression. And let me just say, there were a lot of sharp and dapper dudes out there. Mustaches that curled upward like they were made from pipe cleaners and beards that had glitter strewn in them like a unicorn vomited directly on their face. That wasn’t the exact vibe and the look I aspired to, but you had to give it to them for the ingenuity. It was definitely there.

All of this led me to my Saturday activities which consisted of a much-needed haircut and first ever professional shave at a barbershop. I wasn’t a wuss. Of course I liked manly things such as guns and four wheelers and fine whiskey. But knives? I could appreciate a knife so long as it stayed away from my jugular. A close shave did not allow for the distance I required between a razor sharp blade and myself. One accidental sneeze and I’d be bleeding out on the floor.

The unnecessarily amount of perspiring I did during my barber shop experience led me to the department store on Sunday to purchase a package of brand new undershirts, which then forced me to visit a neighboring town on Monday after school in order to pick up the gray button up shirt they had on hold for me since the original store didn’t have my size.

All in all, I was extremely successful in distracting myself for the five days necessary.

But now it was Tuesday. Not even halfway through the workday, either, and my distractions had officially run out.

“You got some place you need to be, McBride?”

Leave it to Mark to call me out. I peeled my gaze from the clock to meet his. “Nope. Just focus on finishing your assignment, Mr. Dwayne.”

“Oh, I’m all done.” He pushed his packet so it lined up with the edge of his desk and swung his sneakers onto the desktop. Then, like he was Mr. Cool, he bit the eraser on his pencil between his teeth.

“Off,” I instructed, raising my eyebrows toward him. I was all about being the good guy, but respect and manners were non-negotiable. “Bring it to me if you’re done.”

I’d released the hounds. All students bombarded me at once with their assignments in hand, ready to turn in. I collected them at a rapid rate, but I was unsure how they all finished so quickly.

“You underestimate us, Mr. McBride,” Tabitha said as she dropped her assignment onto my desk. “That was hardly what I’d call a test.”

“Give him a break, he’s been a little distracted lately,” Lucas murmured, but he was still finishing up his work, head hunkered down.

“Distracted?”

“Yeah, you know,” Mark interjected. “With your date and all.”

My eyes flitted his way and I didn’t wear the surprise well at all. “Date?”

“Sir.” Lucas flipped the last page of his packet over and held the papers by their stapled edge. Sabrina snagged it on her way to turn hers in and handed both papers to me. “You’ve hardly been secretive about it.”

“I haven’t?”

“The haircut?” Tabitha nodded toward my freshly cropped scalp. “And the smooth-as-a-baby’s-butt chin? You’re clearly cleaning up for someone. Bachelors don’t do that much manscaping unless they’re trying to impress.”

“Manscaping?” I was about two conversations behind.

“And the constant glancing to your ring finger. I promise, none of us can see your ring tan anymore. It’s not noticeable.”

What the hell? How on earth were these kids recognizing things I wasn’t even aware of? “Anything else?”

“You’ve been biting your thumb,” Sabrina offered, her voice characteristically quiet. Her eyes were downcast under a fringe of thick bangs. “A lot.”

“And you’ve been muttering under your breath. Like reciting a conversation or something. Freaky as hell if you ask me,” Mark said.

“All right. That’s enough. Let’s move forward with today’s agenda.” I ran my index finger over my notepad, but I wasn’t reading anything. I’d expected the quiz to take up the majority of class time, and now we had twenty minutes of empty lesson planning. Major teacher fail on my part.

“So.” Tabitha leaned toward me and kept her voice a hushed whisper. “Who is it?”

“Back in your seat,” I instructed. She scrunched her face in disappointment.

“Seriously, Teach. Who’s the chick?”

“She’s not a chick. She’s a woman. Women aren’t chicks. For that matter, neither are girls. You could benefit from expanding your vocabulary a little, Mark.”

“Ouch!” He slammed his hand down onto his desk but was all smiles. “Looks like someone’s nervous!”

“Of course I’m nervous! I’ve been waiting twelve years for this night!”

“Oh my God!” Tabitha screamed. “It’s her! Your high school sweetheart? Oh! This is soooo good.”

Lucas looked up. “Is it really, sir? Is it her?”

I felt like I was about to puke. Talking about the date catapulted everything to a new level, one where I was suddenly aware of the potential for tonight to go very, very badly.

“Yeah, it’s her.”

“So she’s in California?”

“Yes.” In California. In the same zip code. Unbelievable. Absolutely unbelievable. I hadn’t let the enormity of that coincidence settle in yet, but as I reiterated it to my class, it made my chest tighten with anxiety.

Tabitha clapped her hands together wildly. “This is like the sweetest old people fairy tale ever!”

“I’m not that old,” I murmured as I grabbed a dry erase marker and begin writing Faust’s words on the whiteboard. “Seriously, I’m not even thirty.”

I wasn’t a teenager, either, though. And neither was Mallory. For as much as I wanted to believe we could pick things up where we left off, I knew that might not be possible.

But that sure as hell was not going to keep me from trying.