Picking Up the Pieces (3 page)

Trish hesitated for a moment,
clearly trying to process my words. “Thanks,” she said sincerely. “I guess it’s better to know that going in. Kinda takes some of the pressure off.”

“Yeah, no pressure.
And don’t worry about all those initiatives. They’ll come and go. Just try to go with the flow around here. Don’t take anything too seriously, and don’t—and I can’t stress this enough—don’t go to any meetings that aren’t mandatory. You accidentally show up to one voluntary meeting and it’s all over. Next thing you know you’ll be the head of some new committee and your notebook will have so many acronyms scrawled across it, it’ll look like a bowl of Alphabet soup after a night of heavy drinking.”

“Okay, so no giving my phone number to students, no taking things too seriously, and no showing up to extra meetings.
I think I got it. Anything else?” she asked with a shy smile.

I shrugged. “Just try to have fun.
I mean, that’s why we became teachers to begin with, right? So we could be perpetual kids?” I turned to leave but stopped short of the door. “Oh, one more thing: no waiting ‘til the last minute to make copies. We always run out of paper.”

***

The first week back was interminable. But as I strolled through the parking lot toward my car at the end of the day Friday, I became acutely aware of the fact that I needed exercise more than usual. Sitting around all day didn’t agree with me. Well, I mean, the sitting around was fine. I had done that willingly for most of the summer. It was more that I was forced to sit through stuff I didn't feel like being bothered with that had me so restless.

Either way, I knew that a trip to CrossFit was in order.
My roommate Amanda and I had been going for a few months now, and both of us had gotten noticeably toner. I was glad I left my traditional gym for CrossFit when Amanda had suggested it. The motivation that the CrossFit
coaches provided was something that other gyms lacked unless you paid for a personal trainer. And I sure as hell couldn’t pay for that on a teacher’s salary.

Sixty-three kettlebell swings, forty-five push-ups, sixty box jumps, and 600 meters later, I was finally back at my apartment ready to wind
down for the day. It was only 6:30, and I was friggin’ exhausted. I grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and headed toward the bathroom to take a much needed shower. As I passed the cordless phone in the living room, I noticed the light on the phone blinking to notify us that we had an unheard message.
Probably just a courtesy call.
Our families and friends knew to call our cells.

I pressed the phone to my ear and entered the code for our voicemail
as I turned on the shower to let it warm up. I expected to be deleting whatever the message was immediately. But as I heard, “Lily, honey, this is Marjory Samson . . . Max’s mom.” I bolted out of the bathroom so I could hear better.

My heart skipped a beat or two at the mention of Max’s name.
Did something happen to him?
I hadn’t spoken to Max since he left for his new job back in the spring. “Sorry to call you at home,” she continued. “I hope you don’t mind me looking up your number. Anyway, I’m calling because Max has a job opportunity, but he’s not returning his agent’s calls. He’s really just . . . I don’t know.” I could tell Marjorie wanted to say more but was restraining herself because she probably knew Max wouldn't want me to know all the details. “He’s just not himself. I tried to talk some sense into him, but I couldn’t get through. I know how close the two of you were. You’re the only one I thought he might listen to.” She ended her message by thanking me and requesting that I call her back to talk when I had a few minutes.

Before hanging up
, I’d jotted down her number, though I wasn’t sure whether I’d planned to call back. She’d said that she thought
I’d
be able to talk some sense into him?
Me
? There was no fixing Max Samson. But as much as I told myself that he was way beyond repair and much too broken, I couldn’t help but feel guilt over the fact that I had been the one to break him.

Well, shit.

Chapter 3: Lily

Marjorie’s call had ground my senses to a halt. I was utterly lost as to what I should do. On the one hand, I didn’t owe Max anything. He had fucked up one of the best things I’d ever experienced because he was stupid, selfish, and vindictive. I needed all of that bullshit back in my life like I needed a scorching case of herpes.
Okay, that settles it then. I simply won’t return Marjorie’s call. Except . . .

             
Max wasn’t all bullshit. He was funny and capable of such profound thoughtfulness that I had actually started to think of him as more like Adam than I had originally given Max credit for. If the past five months of relentless soul searching had resulted in nothing else, I had finally allowed myself to accept that I had felt very real things for Max—things that went beyond friendship. At the time, when all of my X-rated high school drama had gone down, I had tried to convince myself incessantly that we shared only a physical connection. Even when I hadn’t been able to deny that there was
something
there, I convinced myself that it paled in comparison to what I had with Adam. But now, I wasn’t so sure of that. And though my romantic feelings for Max had been extinguished by the supreme pain I felt after losing Adam, I couldn't deny how my skin prickled whenever I watched a hockey game or heard the word ‘doll.’ So where did that leave me?

Totally fucked, that’s where.

             
This game of moral ping-pong continued throughout the weekend. I was thankful my parents had come into town to spend Labor Day weekend with me. Traipsing around Philly to visit all the tourist sites was a welcome distraction. Though I was a little bummed that I had to miss a birthday party for Kate, one of my CrossFit coaches. Amanda had gone, but I still felt bad that I'd missed the celebration. It also would've been an excellent excuse to get wasted and forget all of this nonsense. Plus, I missed out on the drama of Amanda's ex-boyfriend showing up and our CrossFit coach Shane pretending to be her new slam piece. I was shocked to hear he came to her rescue, especially after she called his dog his girlfriend and made oral sex jokes at his expense last week. That girl was truly one of a kind.

             
Even with all of the running around I did with my parents, the weekend still dragged. But I had to give them credit. They had been surprisingly supportive since my breakup with Adam. I think they knew the toll it had taken on me and decided not to be their usual, overbearing selves. Instead, they had just been there for me. And their effort had brought us closer. 

After dropping them at the airport Monday morning, another horrible thought crept into my head: I had to go back to work the next day.
It’s not that I minded working. I just liked
not
working so much more. I wrote lesson plans for the week and created some assignments to get the year rolling. As I looked at the papers spread all over my bed, I glanced down at my phone to check the time. 3:23 PM. My shoulders slumped as I realized a devastating fact: I was a total loser.

             
And as the word loser flitted around my brain, my focus returned to Max. Not because he was a loser, but because I had lost him. And his friendship. My brain was suddenly rapid-firing emotions and thoughts that made everything simultaneously lucid and confusing. I had hurt Max long before he had hurt me, therefore deserving his day of reckoning in more ways than one. I had broken him. All of this I already knew. But what I hadn’t fully contemplated until now was that cutting off Max had broken a piece of me too. I was never more myself than when I was with him. So maybe, just maybe, this was my chance to not only help heal Max, but to heal myself as well.

***

I woke up Tuesday morning so alert and clear-headed, I didn’t even need my daily jolt of caffeine. Monday's epiphany had already convinced me of the right thing to do, but I had forced myself to sleep on it anyway. I was almost surprised that the night’s restful sleep hadn’t wavered my resolve at all.

             
But as I drove to work, doubts started creeping in. It would be a tricky path to navigate: getting close to Max again without getting
too
close. Could we have a regular friendship? Would he be able to keep his womanizing hands to himself? And, most agonizing, would he even want to see me again? I had worked so hard to distance myself from the selfish, immature girl I had been five months ago, but would he even let me get close enough to him to prove it?

             
More questions like this plagued my thoughts all morning. I tried to make a good first impression and be the attentive teacher my students deserved, but it was a struggle. When third period rolled around, I took a deep breath.
One more class and then my free period. I just have to get through forty-five more minutes and then I can call Marjorie.

             
I had just told my students to open their textbooks to page twenty-five when I heard a knock at my door. I looked over and saw Trish, eyes wide, face flushed. “One second, guys,” I said to the class as I hurried to the door.

             
Trish stepped back so I could open the door and walk out into the hall. I pushed the door closed behind me, leaving it open just enough that I would hear if the kids starting pummeling each other. “Trish, what’s wrong? You look like you just got caught having sex in the supply room.”
Damn, the supply room! Why had I never thought of that? Wait . . . shit . . . focus, Lily.
Maybe I hadn’t changed as much as I thought I had.

             
“I . . . I . . . Oh God, Lily, I’m going to be fired.”

             
My mind quickly made a list of the things that one would have to do to get fired from here. Trish didn’t look the type to find sixth graders attractive, so that was out. I looked intently at her pupils. No, she definitely wasn’t high, so we were all clear there. There was no blood on her clothes, so she hadn’t murdered anyone. I was stumped. “Trish, slow down. What do you mean you’re going to be fired?”

             
Trish took a deep breath in an attempt to force down her rising emotions.
This chick needs to get it together.

             
“One of my students told me that I was the worst teacher he’d ever had and that he was going to tell his dad to call the principal and get me fired.” Her eyes began to glisten as she fought back tears.

             
Jesus Christ, what am I gonna do with this girl?
“Why did he say you were the worst teacher?” Maybe this insanely dramatic display was warranted. Maybe she had offered to sell him some meth, or karate chopped him in the throat, or slept with his father.
Wow, I probably should’ve left out that last thought.

             
“I assigned them homework, and he said he wasn't going to do homework on the first day of school. I said that was fine, but then he'd earn a zero for the assignment.” Her lips formed into a pout as she willed back the tears.

             
I stared at her intently, waiting for her to continue and tell me about the part where she had flipped out on him and called him a little prick or something. But she didn’t say anything else. I closed my eyes and shook my head slightly. “Wait. That’s it?”

             
“Well . . . yeah.”

             
“Trish, you’re not getting fired. If teachers were fired every time a student said we were bad at our jobs, human resources would have to put a revolving door in. He was angry. He’ll go to gym, blow off some steam, and forget all about it by lunch. Don’t worry about it.”

             
Horror swept across Trish’s face. “But, he has gym
after
lunch.”

             
Man, this girl was really missing the point. “Listen, it’s understandable that you’re nervous, and you want all of the kids to like you, and you want to be perfect at your job. But it’s not going to happen. They’re kids. They say things they don’t mean all the time. You’re the adult and you need to act like it. Don’t let them rile you with idle threats or they’ll walk all over you all year long. Keep a cool head and everything will be fine.”

             
“Okay, you’re right.” She released a deep breath. “God, you must think I’m a total lunatic.” Her eyes stayed on the floor as she spoke, as if she were bracing herself for my response.

             
I don't just
think
it, sweetheart.
But I knew I had to be more supportive in this moment, so I kept my thought to myself. “I think you’re a passionate teacher who has a lot to learn. Just like every other first-year teacher in the world. It’ll get better. I promise.”

She looked up at me and smiled broadly.
“Thanks, Lily. I really appreciate your help. And sorry for interrupting your class.”

My comforting words had clearly put her at ease.
Restraint was starting to suit me. Who would have guessed? “Don’t worry about it. I prefer to spend as little time working as possible, so I welcome the disruption,” I said with a wink.

She smiled at me again as she said goodbye and headed down the hallway.

I giggled to myself as I reentered my classroom, thinking about how much fun it would be to get Trish drunk.

***

The bell rang,
signaling the end of third period and my stomach lurched.
Okay, Lily, time to man up and get this over with.
I yanked open my bottom right desk drawer and reached into my purse, pulling out my phone and the scrap of paper I had written Marjorie’s number on. I dialed and then took a shaky breath as I listened to the rings. My breath hitched when I heard the voice that was somehow so familiar to me, despite my only having ever heard it twice before.

“Hello?”

I cleared my throat before speaking, my nerves frazzling. “Hi, Marjorie. It’s Lily.”

***

After my conversation with Max’s mom, I'd been on edge the rest of the day. I'd gone to CrossFit after work to relieve a little stress, but once I got home and had nothing to think about except my phone call with Marjorie, my nerves got the best of me. I couldn’t wait for Amanda to get home. I needed to sort this shit out, and I obviously couldn’t do that on my own. So when she finally walked through the door at nearly 10:30, I basically attacked her. “Were you at work this whole time? What the fuck have you been doing? I’ve been waiting to talk to you.”

             
“Not
what
.
Who.
”

             
“Huh?”

             
“You mean
who
I’ve been doing. And the answer’s Kyle,” she said with an overly exaggerated sigh as she threw her bag by the door and plopped herself down on the couch. “God, that man can fuck. He brings the ‘benefits’ part of ‘friends with benefits’ to a whole new level.”

“That good, huh?”
I asked, intrigued. I’d been living vicariously through Amanda lately because I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d gotten laid. Well, that’s not entirely true. It was more that I just preferred not to think about the last time. With Adam. Almost five months ago.
Christ, that’s one hell of a dry spell
.

“Oh,” she replied, somehow managing to make the two-lettered word into three dramatically long syllables.
“He came to my office with a pizza for me. Then he . . . came
in
my office. Well, on my thong, to be exa—”

“I think I get the picture,” I said, cutting her off mid-thought. “And it does sound awesome. But I don’t need the details.” Sometimes I forgot how many graphic details Amanda liked to dish out with very little prompting. She really had no shame. And part of me loved her for it.

“It really was awesome, Lil.
You should’ve been there.”

“Um . . . I think I’m glad I wasn’t.”

Amanda laughed loudly when she realized the meaning of what she’d said. “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, a hot guy bringing me a pizza to work and then banging the daylights out of me does sound pretty appealing,” I admitted after a little thought.
“Shit, at this point I’d be happy if someone just brought me a pizza.”

She shook her head and rolled her eyes at my moment
ary self-pity, though we both knew that when it came to the whole "sex at work" thing, I had been there, done that. And I sure as hell wasn’t about to have a repeat of
that
disaster. “What was it you couldn’t wait to tell me?” Amanda finally asked.

“Well, I actually need your advice on something.”

“You? Need
my
advice? You must have
really
gotten yourself in a jam. What is it
this
time? Three men? A professional athlete, a hot dad,
and
a billionaire?” she asked with a laugh.

I rolled my eyes at her sarcastic accusation.

“
Four
guys? You horny devil. When are you gonna learn your lesson?”