Every Wrong Reason

Besides, what was I doing? We were getting a divorce! Why was I reminiscing with him about a past neither of us could change?

I wanted to throw my phone against the wall in frustration.

I forced polite words out, “Merry Christmas, Nick.”

After another beat of silence, he repeated. “Merry Christmas, Kate.”

I hung up the phone before I could say another word. I dropped my cell into the chair like it could burn me or turn into acid and eat away my skin. I jumped out of the chair so quickly A

I stumbled back from the wall and then toward it. I had to do something. I couldn’t feel like this anymore. I couldn’t even describe what I was feeling. It was just… everywhere. My skin crawled, my blood felt itchy and wrong. My head started pounding with a fresh headache.

God, I was a mess.

I looked at the picture he hung for me and had the strongest urge to tear it off the wall and throw it outside. I had to get rid of it. I had to get it away from me.

Instead of shredding it to pieces, I carefully lifted it from its place and carried it to the hall closet. It was heavier than I’d anticipated it to be. It wasn’t very big, but the frame was nice and sturdy.

It wasn’t just poster board slapped haphazardly together. Nick had put it together with care… made to last.

Unlike our marriage.

I set it in the hall closet next to the vacuum and closed the door behind it. I let out an agonized breath and let myself feel a little bit better.

There.

I couldn’t see it.

It wouldn’t haunt me if I couldn’t see it.

I looked around at my house and felt loneliness stir inside me. The dark corners seemed to press in on me, eating up the dim light and the happy memories that once belonged here.

Unable to take it or myself for a second longer, I called A

Unable to find sleep or peace, I crawled out of bed and braved the chill of night. I crept downstairs like I was a burglar in my own house. I knew no one else was there, but I couldn’t help feeling like I was doing something wrong.

Or maybe I was doing something right for the first time in a long time.

I pulled the picture from the closet and with shaking hands and trembling limbs, I rehung it on the wall.

I stepped back and stared at it.

It wasn’t a solution, but I felt a little better.

At least when I lay back down in bed, I could finally fall asleep.

Chapter Twenty

27. Second chances are a myth.

By the middle of January, school had started back up again and Nick and I had been through our second round of mediation.

We’d gotten nowhere.

Neither of us was willing to give up the house or the dog.

Mr. Cavanaugh had been exhausted by the end of it and Ryan Templeton had been contemplating murder of the first degree in his head. I wasn’t sure for whom, but if I had to guess, I would have picked me.

He probably wanted to run me over in his expensive sports car. I bet it was something beyond pretentious.

Poor Marty, the mediator, was beyond exhausted. He had wanted to speak with us both separately. Neither Nick nor I would comply.

It wasn’t that I didn’t trust Nick. I mostly didn’t trust his slimy lawyer.

I had begun to hate Nick’s lawyer with the fire of a thousand suns. He wasn’t the only one contemplating homicide during mediation.

Every time Nick looked close to breaking, Ryan would whisper something in his ear that would make Nick clench his jaw tight and turn him completely unreasonable.

Ryan Templeton was like the devil on Nick’s shoulder, whispering all kinds of evil things.

Nick needed an angel telling him to do good, nice things. Things that ended mediation with giving the dog and the house to me.

Okay, so maybe Ryan wasn’t the devil on his shoulder. Maybe I was.

I had tried to look at this rationally or from his point of view. But I couldn’t. My pain was too blinding. My need to keep the things I loved and that still loved me was consuming. I couldn’t let Nick have any of it.

I didn’t mind if he took the TV or the furniture or even my car. But I needed the house.

And I needed the dog.

I wouldn’t be able to live without those things.

I shook my head and tried to focus on the day. My second and third-hour classes were trading places. Students pushed through the door and chatted animatedly.

I continued to get ready for class while students took their seats. The second bell finally rang and I was happy to see that the majority of my students were in their places. A few stragglers raced in just as the bell stopped ringing and I waved my hand at their pleading faces.

“Be on time tomorrow,” I warned them.

They promised that they would be, even though we both knew they were lying. Tomorrow I would have to write them up. But it was only Monday.

I gave grace on Monday because Monday was the definition of awful.

I glanced around the room and noticed a few empty desks. Two of the kids had been excused from school today for a debate team meet, but one hadn’t been shared with me.

“Does anyone know where Andre Gonzalez is?” A chilled silence crept through the room and I immediately looked at Jay Allen. “He’s not marked as absent today. Is he skipping?”

I hadn’t been out of my classroom yet today. If there was gossip about his whereabouts, I hadn’t heard it yet.

My class was silent so I pressed them. “It’s better if you tell me.” When they continued to stare at me, I felt familiar fear. “Is he hurt? Sick? Did something happen to him?”

“Arrested,” someone called from the back of the room. “He got arrested last night.”

It wasn’t the most surprising news in the world, but it still dealt a painful blow. “Damn,” I whispered. I looked up and saw fear reflected in my students’ eyes. Fear and resignation. “How old is he?”

It was quiet for a long time before someone said, “Eighteen.”

Grief swirled through me and for a moment I thought I would be sick. I hated that he was an adult. I hated that he hadn’t been smart enough to get out of trouble on his own. But I hated more that I felt relief that he was off the streets.

And then I felt intense regret.

He had terrified me before Christmas break. And I had never gone to Mr. Kellar with what happened. I had been too afraid that Kellar would expel him.

It had been stupid of me. Dangerous even. But I wanted to give Andre a chance to finish school. I wanted to help him.

But I hadn’t. I hadn’t helped anything. I’d let him continue his wayward journey and now he’d gotten himself arrested.

My gaze tracked to Jay Allen, who sat with his head down, stabbing his notebook with a short pencil. He didn’t look up at me. It was like he knew what I was thinking.

Only I doubted Jay felt the same sense of loss.

It took me several minutes to pull myself together enough to teach. I struggled and stumbled until I found my rhythm. The class never fully engaged with me. They all felt the loss of one of their peers.

Unfortunately, it happened too often in this school. They weren’t always arrested. Sometimes they just dropped out.

Sometimes they were killed.

A chill slithered down my spine as I remembered how smart Andre could be… how far he could have gone.

When the bell finally rang, I knew I could have done so much better. Those were not my finest moments as a teacher.

I slumped back in my desk chair and tried to pull myself together for the rest of the day. The next hour was my plan period, so I had a little time, but it still felt like an impossible feat.

Long fingers tapped at the edge of my desk and I lifted my gaze to find Jay standing there with a determined expression on his face.