Thou Shalt Not(20)

Don’t go in there, I told myself. She obviously wanted to be alone.

I ignored my better judgment and walked in.

Her head lifted slowly from her arms, and she smiled forcefully as I slowly walked toward her desk. It didn’t look like she had been crying, but her eyes looked twenty years older than the rest of her. It was startling.

“Hey,” I said. “I just wanted to check on you, make sure everything was okay.”

“Oh, I am fine,” she said, and I knew she was lying to me. “Just had a long night. Thought maybe I could get a quick nap in.”

I didn’t buy what she was trying to sell me, but I played along.

“Well, I’ve heard turning the light off usually helps. People seem to sleep better in the dark.”

She smiled, less forced this time.

“Plus, if the lights had been out, it would have kept an idiot English teacher from barging in and disrupting your peace.”

I was mad at myself for walking in like this, but instead of making it better and leaving, all I could apparently seem to do was keep talking.

She sat up and leaned back, involuntarily stretching her upper body. She was wearing a scarlet red blouse, and when she leaned back, her small breasts pushed up against the fabric of her shirt. I tried not to look, and thankfully she hadn’t noticed me fail at my attempt.

“It’s okay, really,” she said. “Lunch is almost over anyway, and there is no way I would have passed out on this desk.”

“For future reference, you can always go lay down on the couch in my classroom. Just make sure I am not in the middle of teaching something if you are a snorer. Oh, and make sure you take a whistle.”

“A whistle?”

“In case you sink in, and need someone to come save you from the quicksand couch of death.”

“Ohhhh, right,” she said, without laughing or smiling, just looking tired.

In third grade, my teacher had given me a Mr. Cool award at the end of the school year. It had a cartoon surfer guy riding a big wave and wearing giant black sunglasses. I half expected my teacher to walk into the classroom right now and ask for the award back.

“Well, I won’t bother you anymore,” I said. “Resume your slumber if you can.”

“I’m fine, Luke, really. You aren’t bothering me. I just hope I can sleep tonight.”

“Rough night at home last night?”

“Yeah, you could say that. Some nights the kids decide they don’t want to sleep and decide to make my life miserable.”

“Yikes,” I said.

Seriously, Luke, yikes? What am I, a Scooby Doo character all of a sudden?

“It must be tough with Marco being away.”

“Yeah,” she nodded, “I don’t know if it’s something I will ever get used to. You basically are a single parent for most of the year, and then when he shows up the kids have a hard time adjusting to having him around full-time.”

“Well, he gets to be home when the team is playing here at least.”

“Not really, with practices and meetings and warm-ups and games, the kids are lucky to even catch a glimpse of him during the morning in passing. And once the games are over, he doesn’t usually get home till around midnight.”

“Wow, that doesn’t sound pleasant at all,” I said, being entirely sincere. “I always wanted to become a professional baseball player, but now I am thankful I chose this line of work.”

“Did you play?”

The bell signaling the end of lunch rang, but it would still be a few minutes before the kids got anywhere close to the classroom.

“Yeah,” I replied. “I played in high school and through most of college.”

She just nodded and didn’t ask any further questions about it. She probably thought I must have not been very good.

April asked about Robin, and since she hadn’t been present for the morning meeting, I quickly filled her in on what happened during the evening.

“Wow,” she said. “And here I was complaining about not getting any sleep.”

“I am assuming the surgery will take a little bit of time to heal from, so you might be asked to hang out here with us a little longer. That is, if you haven’t gotten tired of us yet.”

“I think I could probably handle a few more days here,” she said, and it looked like her face was beginning to return to normal. Maybe talking to me injected a little life into her.

“You’ll have to get more sleep, though,” I said, speaking in a mock scolding voice. “These kids don’t like grumpy teachers.”

“I don’t know where you get your energy after sleeping so little,” she said, shaking her head.

The students for her next class began to enter the room, so I took that as my cue to head out.