Pieces of Perfect (3 page)

Four

It took me a few days to come down from the high I had experienced on the plane ride home and to finally feel as though I had been thoroughly cleansed of Max, both physically and emotionally.
 And it wasn’t long before I was able to get back into my old routine.  The next few weeks were a blur.  Between focusing on work, taking an online grad class at Widener, and trying to find time to get to the gym here and there, I could barely enjoy the finer things in life.  

And by finer things I mean
 taking advantage of the after Christmas sales at the King of Prussia Mall with my roommate Amanda and playing Quizzo on Monday nights at the bar within walking distance of my apartment.    

But thankfully, my busy schedule kept me from thinking about him.
 Well almost.  I couldn’t help that from time to time I allowed myself to close my eyes and play back the memory of his long length ceaselessly pounding into me until I begged him to let me finish.  And I still felt an empty ache between my legs when I wore the thong that he had tucked back into my bag after our flight.

I took comfort in the fact that my fantasy was simply that: a fantasy.
 An erotic image that could allow me a little pleasure when I needed it, but not something I could ever act on again.  I mean, a girl was entitled to a harmless fantasy every now and again, right?

*
              *              *

I hated rain.
 Almost as much as I hated having to wake up early.  And the cold.  And birds.  God, I hated birds.  I pulled my blue
Hyundai Elantra into the coffee house down the street from my apartment.  I desperately needed a caffeine jolt, and since I always slept as late as possible, I never had time to brew any myself.  Maybe that was why I was always broke.  Oh, well, it’s not like I could do anything about it.  A girl needs her beauty sleep.

I swung into the only open parking space, which also doubled as a moat.
 I opened my door and assessed how I was going to get out of my car without completely soaking the lower half of my legs.  When I finally realized that my options were
wet shoes or no coffee, I pulled my ass out of the car.  

It was 7:45.
 I had fifteen minutes to get to work.  Which ordinarily wouldn’t have been a problem, since I only lived eight minutes from the school.  But, clearly the coffee house had chosen this day to hand out Wonka Bars wrapped in golden tickets, because the line was ridiculously long.  A better person may have considered leaving, being punctual their top priority.  I was not one of those people.  If I didn’t get some coffee in my system, I was going to kill someone’s child.  And not a simple murder, like a stabbing or a chair to the back of the head.  That little fucker was going to suffer.

Ok
ay, only two more people in front of me. I glanced at my watch.  7:55.  I started tapping my foot impatiently, as if this would make the surly baristas suddenly realize that I was in a hurry and begin to give a shit about their minimum wage jobs and speed things up.  

“Next,” said a small woman who looked like she could be sitting in one of my classes waiting for me to teach her the difference between a verb and a noun for the eight hundredth time.

“Yes, I will have a tall caramel macchiato and a blueberry muffin.”  May as well eat, too.  She meandered over to the coffee machines and poured.  Then, she walked like a hunchback toward the muffin display.  If only she had decided to drag one of her legs behind her, the image would have been complete.  

“$10.89, please.”
 
Fucking inflation
.  I handed her $13 and told her to keep the change.  I figured a little tip might keep her from spitting in my drink the next time I had the pleasure of her service.  I turned away from the counter and took a sip of my macchiato.  

Oh, no, a bitch didn’t.
 This was not a macchiato.  I didn’t know what it was, and it wasn’t half bad, but if I was going to be late for work, I was damn well going to get what I ordered.  

“Excuse me, sorry, I’m not cutting, I was already here,” I said as I pushed some guy away from the counter mid-order so I could take his place in line.
 “I’m sorry, but this isn’t a caramel macchiato.  Could I please get what I ordered?”  The elven creature simply nodded, took my cup, and plodded back to the brewers.  I felt like I needed to say something so that the stranger I had nearly assaulted to regain my place in line understood that it wasn’t my fault he was no longer being waited on.  It was merely a case of bad luck all around.

“Why does this stuff always happen to me?” I asked rhetorically, but loud enough for him to hear, and therefore pity me.
 When the woman returned with my order, I sipped it at the counter to let her know that I didn’t trust her.  Not one bit.  Then I turned to the stranger I had interrupted
and said, “Sorry, sir, need my caffeine fix before heading to the zoo.”  I didn’t wait for a reply, but quickly left and sped toward Swift Middle School—an ironic name this morning, since the coffee joint had been anything but swift.  

I strolled
into the building just as the kids were being released from the cafeteria.  I quickly signed in, avoiding eye contact with our secretaries, who had eyes laced with judgment, and raced toward my classroom to begin the day.

Five

I couldn’t for the life of me figure out why these parents insisted on parent conferences just weeks before the regularly scheduled ones.
 Every parent would get a set time to meet with each of their child’s teachers at the end of February.  But, here we were, at the end of January and we were being dragged into the guidance office for a coup d’état.

“Good morning, Mrs. Jenkins,” I directed at the guidance secretary.
 The only acknowledgement I received was an eyebrow raise, and even that was difficult to detect,
since she was looking down at her desk, filing her nails.  
Cocksucker
, I thought.

I was clearly
destined to make an awesome impression
since I was about ten minutes late for the meeting.  I had stopped
to intervene in an escalating battle between two students about who made better comic books: Marvel or DC.  Friggin’ dorks.

I walked down the narrow, gray carpeted hallway to the conference room.
 As I turned the corner, I had already begun to apologize for my lateness, when I spotted him.

Fuck!

I stopped short as all of the air drained from my lungs.  Please tell me this was not Eva Carter’s father.  Please.  But of course it was, because this was my life—which clearly was some huge cosmic joke.  There, sitting at the head of the giant conference table, was the guy from the coffee house yesterday morning—the one I had made the zoo comment to.  Note to self, start looking for a new job, for I was soon to be canned from this one.

I suddenly remembered that I should still be moving. God, why did I have to be late?
 Now everyone was looking at me, including him.  Did he recognize me?  No familiarity showed on his face.   I regained my composure and sat in the nearest open chair, which was thankfully three seats away from Mr. Carter.

“This is Miss Ha
milton, Eva’s English teacher,” Mrs. Kline, the guidance counselor, said.  I got a nod of acknowledgement from him, to which I nodded back.

“As I was saying,”
Mr. Dees, Eva’s math teacher, grumbled as he eyed me wearily.  
What a dick.
  “Eva is a bright girl, but she hasn’t been applying herself as she needs to in order to . . . blah blah blah.”  I began to tune out, too wrapped up in my own internal conundrum.  There hadn’t been any sign that Mr. Carter recognized me.  I was actually surprised that I recognized him so easily.  Our encounter in the coffee house
had been brief and indirect.  But, he did have a memorable quality to him.  I just hoped that I was as easy to forget as he was easy to remember.

Besides, what's the worst that could happen to me?
 I mean, seriously, could I even
be fired for my comment?  I hadn’t mentioned any specific names.  So I had said I worked in a zoo, so what?  Maybe I could play dumb and act like he was a raving lunatic.  “I would never say that!” I could argue.  Or maybe I could claim that he had just misheard me.  
What rhymes
with zoo?  Boo, shoe, coo, doo, flu
.  
Maybe I could play it off like I was going on a field trip to the zoo.  Was the zoo open in January?

I was yanked from my thoughts at the saying of my name.
 I glanced around to see eight pairs of eyes looking at me expectantly.  Shit.  Well, clearly we’re here to discuss Eva, so . . .

“Eva is a great girl, but I have noticed a decline in the quality of her work.
 Ever since our return from winter break, it has been very difficult to keep her on task and focused.  Her mind just seems to be perpetually wandering.”  Boy, could I relate to that.  “She was a B student before break, but has been barely pulling C’s since.”

Mr. Carter had his hands crossed in front of him, resting on the table.
 He listened intently, and I was suddenly mad at myself for being annoyed that he had called this meeting.  The truth was, I had noticed a shift in Eva’s behavior and he was right to ask for this conference.  She could be failing miserably by the end of February.  I could tell that he was a good father, not just because he had gone to the trouble of coming in here and meeting with all of us, but because he wore it on his face—the concern for his daughter, his love for her.

Mr. Carter cleared his throat, “Eva had a tough winter recess.
 I’m a single father, so my parents offered to take Eva for a few days to give me a break.  Without going into too much detail, Eva overheard my parents discussing her mother and she’s been having a rough time of things since.  This isn’t an excuse for her academic decline, but it is the explanation for it.  I just want us all to be on the same page going forward, so that Eva can have the best shot at finishing the year as strong as she began it.”

Fucking parents, they ruin everything.
 I suddenly had the urge to shout “Amen” and emphatically nod my head like he was a minister and I was an avid member of his congregation. Preaching to the choir, my brother!

“I’ve sought counseling for Eva, to give her an impartial third party to speak to about what she’s feeling.
 Your comments have been very helpful, and I will share them with her counselor so that she may get deeper insight into Eva’s school self.”

“Ok
ay,” Mrs. Kline added.  “So, maybe it would be helpful if we could all stay in contact with Mr. Carter and provide him with periodic updates about Eva’s progress in each of your classes.  I will email each of you Mr. Carter's contact information right after this meeting.  Any more questions, Mr. Carter?”

“No, I think that will do it.”
 

Thank you, Lord!
 I was going to escape unscathed.

“Oh, wait, I’m sorry. I did have one more question.
 Eva’s counselor thought it may be helpful to equate Eva’s personality in more tangible terms.  Uh, Miss Hamilton.”

Shit.

“If my daughter were say, a zoo animal, which would you say she was?”

And there you had it.  I couldn’t have felt more exposed if my face had been plastered on Wanted posters and tacked to every tree in town.  

“I, umm, I don’t...” I fumbled.
 How was I supposed to answer that?  

Thankfully, Miss Flower Child, a
.k.a. Miss Mason, our school’s art teacher, interrupted.  “A giraffe.  She would definitely be a giraffe.”

For fuck’s sake.

Six

I couldn’t get the hell out of that room fast enough.  After Mason’s “giraffe” comment, Mrs. Kline had clearly had enough.  I had never been more appreciative of a crotchety old hag who should have retired ten years ago.  She said that the teachers needed to get back to class before the next period began.  As I walked out of the office and started down the brightly painted hall, mortified thoroughly, I heard my name from behind me.

“Excuse me, Miss Hamilton, could I have just one more moment of your time, please?”

I closed my eyes and breathed in slowly.  I knew who had said it.  I must have been a real bitch in a past life to deserve this.

I turned and plastered a bright smile on my face and through nearly gritted teeth, replied, “Certainly, Mr. Carter.”

He stopped in front of me, and as I took in his face, I became acutely aware that he was trying to suppress a smirk.  Whew! Maybe he wasn’t going to hold my comment against me.  Maybe I wasn’t staring the end of my career directly in the face.

“So, I was
just wondering how you like it?”

“Umm, I’m sorry.
I don’t understand what you’re referring to.”

“Being a zookeeper. How do you like it?”

Oh, shit
.  The only thing left to do was beg for mercy.

“Mr. Carter, I apologize for the completely inappropriate and distasteful comment I made.
 I don’t know what I . . .”

When I finally got the courage to lift my eyes and look at him, I felt relief mixed with de
finite annoyance.  Mr. Carter's head was bowed so that his chin rested on his chest.  I could see the slight shaking of his shoulders. The bastard was laughing at me! Just what I fucking needed.
What was it with men?  

He looked up when I stopped talking, put his hand to his chest and choked out an
, “I’m sorry.”

I stood there, giving him time to regain his composure.

“I’m sorry,” he started again.  “I couldn’t resist.”

“Glad I could give you a laugh.
 Nice to meet you, Mr. Carter.  Enjoy the rest of your day," I said politely before turning to leave. I had already suffered enough during the meeting; I wasn’t up for any more humiliation.

As I began to walk away, I felt a strong hand on my arm.
 It was not an unkind, rough hand.  Just a sure, confident one.

“Miss Hamilton,
 I really am sorry.  That was wrong of me.  I wasn’t trying to make you uncomfortable."  

He looked down at his hand and quickly withdrew it, like he suddenly realized it probably wasn't appropriate to be manhandling his daughter's teacher. Not that I minded. I'd come around to
manhandling a few weeks back—literally.

It was then that I really looked at him. He was incredibly attractive with bright green eyes, dirty blond hair, and a genuine, pearly white smile. And his lips were perfectly pink. My eyes were drawn to
them as he bit his lower one, waiting for me to reply.

But all I could think about was how much I'd like to sit on those gorgeous lips.
 I shuddered slightly at the thought, which effectively brought me back into this tortuous moment with Mr. Carter. What was my deal?  A single one-flight stand had morphed me into a complete nymphomaniac. Had he noticed my involuntary shudder?  

"It's a little cold in here," I stammered as I drew my arms across my chest.
Nice save, Lily, you horse's ass
.
 "How about this: I'll forget about your oh-so-witty practical joke if you please, please, for the love of God, not hold my zoo comment against me. Deal?"

Mr. Carter smiled broadly
, and his eyes crinkled slightly. Sweet Christ, he was hot.

"Deal," he agreed as he held out his hand.
“Under one condition . . .”

Apprehension rushed through me again.
 I’d had enough of these men and their conditions.  I stared expectantly at him.

“Call me Adam,” he said with a smile.

Relief flooded through me as I took his hand gratefully and offered my own megawatt smile, compliments of the nightly headgear Dr. Schiffer made me wear.  

As we shook hands, I noticed that he was holding my hand longer than was typically acceptable. His green eyes were gazing at me. Curiously? Mischievously? I couldn't quite be sure.

I withdrew my hand as I said, "Good bye, Adam."

"Miss Hamilton," he replied with a firm nod of his head. He then walked around me and strode out of the school, oozing success and sex-appeal. Just then, the bell rang, preventing me from any more X-rated daydreams.

Awesome
, I thought. Thank God I had already taught that man's daughter today. I grinned as I pictured myself contemplating, during a discussion about our current novel
The Outsiders
, if Eva’s father was as good in bed as he looked. The thought almost caused me to laugh out loud as I scampered down the hall to beat the late bell to class and ensure that the animals didn’t claw each other to death.