Thou Shalt Not (2 page)

“Luke? Earth to Mr. Harper.”

I realized everyone was looking at me as I caught the last of what Mr. West was saying.

“Wow,” I laughed, “I’m sorry, sir. I was going over lesson plans in my head.”

“What I was saying,” he continued on, ignoring my excuse, “is that Robin will be out again today, and from the sound of things, for the rest of the week too. I know we floated Kristin over there yesterday to cover her classes, but we need her in the science lab. So, you will be working with a new substitute today, and possibly the rest of the week.”

Robin Geary was the English teacher who operated the classroom right next door to mine. She taught the 9th grade English classes, as well as a British Lit class for the seniors. I taught the 10th grade English classes and an American Lit class for juniors. We often pooled resources and brainstormed different ways to get the concepts across to the kids. It was always her idea to take quotes from a novel and make the students examine it and apply it to their lives. She was in her mid-forties and had been teaching for close to twenty years. I was always comfortable knowing she was next door, teaching well the subject we both loved. I hated the idea of substitutes.

“Who is the sub?” I asked.

“Her name is Mrs. Batista. Moved to the area over the summer. She has an English degree, so she shouldn’t have any trouble with the kids or the material. Robin’s husband already brought in her lesson plans, so Mrs. Batista should be all set to go. Just be sure to be there for her and answer any questions she might have during the day.”

“No problem, sir.”

With that, Cindy Johnson (Girls’ P.E. teacher) began the Bible study for the morning. I heard her mention something about heart rebellion as my mind wandered once again. I really disliked substitute teachers, always had. Robin felt the same way, so I knew she must have been feeling pretty lousy to have already missed two whole days. It wasn’t that substitutes were awful people, and we were certainly grateful for them when we needed them (and God knew there had been a time when I needed them often), but teachers can be territorial people. We have plans for our students, and as good as some substitutes might be, they were no match for us. They couldn’t impart knowledge on the kids quite like we could no matter how hard they tried. And, on the dreadful occasion that the school got a substitute who wasn’t qualified, we would usually have to spend our first day back undoing all the damage the sub had caused. This is why most teachers just leave videos for the substitute to show. It’s not because we are lazy, we just don’t inherently trust anyone else with our students.

Robin and I weren’t video people though, so I hoped this Mrs. Batista would be able to handle the workload. Part of me secretly wondered whether or not Robin had jam-packed her lesson plans to scare the sub a little. I certainly wouldn’t have put it past her. I thought about offering Mrs. Batista’s name up when it came time to share our prayer requests. Hopefully, she didn’t have a thick accent that would probably get her made fun of and would cause more of a distraction than anything. Kids could be cruel, and while a good portion of the kids at Lakefront Christian School were absolute angels, the ones who weren’t, absolutely weren’t. No middle ground. Love ‘em or hate ‘em.

The meeting mercifully ended and I was the first one out the door. I headed down the hallway to my classroom, which was located on the far west end of the building and the last room on the left before you got to the bathrooms. Needless to say things could get loud, and I often was called into the bathroom to quell some sort of disturbance, but other than that I liked where I was and enjoyed the view from my upstairs window onto the baseball fields below. Thankfully a ball hadn’t been hit far enough to reach my window. Yet. When I had been a student and had played on the baseball team, I had hit a ball that struck the building between where my window currently was, and where Robin’s window was in the room next door. Fortunately, power like mine didn’t come around too often! Oh, who am I kidding?

I wrote out a few instructions on the whiteboard for my first period class as I waited for the bell to chime. Kids could arrive however early they wanted to, or however early their parents wanted to drop them off, but they weren’t allowed into the building until the first bell rang ten minutes before class was scheduled to begin. A bell would ring once to signify they had five minutes to get to class, then it would ring three times to signal the start of the class. Any students caught in the hallway after the last bell would be sent to the office.

No matter how many times I heard the bell, and no matter how I tried to time it, I never could seem to predict when the first bell would ring. I knew it was coming soon as I laid out review sheets on all the desks, but I had no idea when it would chime.

I heard the door to Robin’s room open slowly and then shut. Mrs. Batista must have arrived. I figured I should give her a second to look over the lesson before I bounded next door to see if she needed anything. But, I also knew that the bell was going to ring soon, and didn’t want to be trying to explain things to her as the kids were loudly declaring their arrival to the classroom. So, I finished laying out the review sheets and walked next door.

Each classroom door had a small glass window in the middle of it, and I could see into the room before I walked in. Mrs. Batista was standing with her back to the door, so I couldn’t see her face. She was wearing what appeared to be a very pretty green dress with large white polka dots that went down to her ankles. Her hair was brown and curly and went just a little past her shoulders. I could tell from the window that she had incredible hair. Luxurious was the word that immediately popped into my mind as I stood at the door. I remember it distinctly because the word “luxurious” had never entered my mind to describe anyone’s hair that I had ever met previously. I also remember thinking that if she had never been approached by someone to do a shampoo commercial, whoever was in charge of those sorts of things should be fired. Perhaps even executed.

I took a deep breath, and then I opened the door and entered the room. She turned to see who it was, and it was an absolute miracle of heaven that the words “Oh my God” didn’t come flying out of my mouth
.
I was standing face to face with one of the most beautiful women I had ever seen, and she looked nothing like I expected her to look. When I heard the name Mrs. Batista, I immediately assumed she would be short, tan skinned, dark eyes, Hispanic. I also figured she would be Robin’s age, or older, but the only assumption I got correct were the color of her eyes. She was tall, probably 5’9 or 5’10, and lean, like she could have run track her whole life. Her skin wasn’t remotely tan. She was very fair skinned, incredibly so, like a porcelain doll that had been given another coat of white before being boxed up and shipped out. Her eyes were very large, and inquisitive, and brown like almonds. Her lips were plump, especially her bottom lip. It was a delectable work of art, and I had to resist the urge to immediately suck on it. Nothing says “Welcome” quite like a stranger moving in and sucking on your lip. She smiled a warm, friendly smile when she saw me, revealing perfect white teeth.

“Hi,” she said softly. “You must be Mr. Harper?”

She reached out her hand to shake mine.

“Yes, I am,” I replied. “But, please call me Luke.”

We shook hands.

“And you must be Mrs. Batista?”

I immediately felt like an idiot for trying to sound as Spanish as I could when pronouncing her last name. I always hated when people did that, and I had no clue why the hell I had decided to. Thankfully, she laughed.

“Yep, that’s me. Probably not what you were expecting, huh?”

“Well, not exactly. But, who doesn’t enjoy a surprise?”

Her lips took their time curling into a smile. “I get that reaction a lot. Like people are expecting a little old Mexican grandma or something.”

“Hey, as long as you can cook posole, I will be happy.”

She laughed and I noticed an enormous diamond adorning her ring finger, left hand. Very married. Damn.

“Actually, my husband picked up a great recipe from his grandparents. I will have to see if he would be willing to share that with you.”

I had no desire to talk about her husband. He was a lucky bastard, even if this woman turned out to be evil and despicable and cruel. He would still be lucky just to get to wake up next to her every day.

It took me a second to realize that I was supposed to probably respond to what she had said. I hoped that the mention of her husband hadn’t created a noticeable scowl on my face.

“So,” I said, squashing the awkward silence, “have you had a chance to look over Robin’s lesson plans?”

“Yeah,” she said, turning back toward the desk to grab the paper.

My eyes scanned over the back of her. God, she had an amazing form.

Focus, Luke
.

“Looks like it’s a pretty easy day for me today,” she said, turning back to me. “Nothing but spelling tests and reading assignments.”

“Ahhhh,” I said, and then immediately wondered if anyone under the age of sixty still actually said the word “ah” unless they were at the dentist’s office or in a porno. “Robin always has one day a week where she makes things easy on herself. She calls it the day she catches up on her sleep. Guess you got lucky and landed a sleep day.”

“Well, it should be a nice way to ease into the week. The rest of the week doesn’t look as pleasant.”

I watched her lick her bottom lip as she studied the paper in her hand, and for a moment I was entranced. The bell finally chimed over the school’s intercom system, jarring me out of it. We both instinctively looked up as if we somehow expected to see the chiming bell.

“If you need anything, I will be right next door. If you get bored during your free period, feel free to come over and sit in on our class discussion. Robin likes to come in and remind her old students that all their answers are still wrong. But, in the meantime, just bang on the wall if things get crazy and you request assistance.”

“And you’ll come to the rescue?” she asked, looking up at me with a playful glint in her brown eyes.

“Probably not,” I replied, wondering if I was blushing. “But if I hear screaming, I might send a student to check it out.”

I can be snarky, and my sense of humor is dry. I sometimes say things to the wrong people and they just stand there, looking offended. This happens a lot in a Christian high school with parents and other faculty members. But, Mrs. Batista laughed. And it was a beautiful laugh. It’s safe to say I was smitten right away.

She walked back behind Robin’s desk as I headed for the door. I could hear the cacophonous melody of lockers slamming and voices competing with one another to reach a higher decibel.

“It was a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Batista,” I said, turning for one final look.

“April,” she replied.

“That’s pretty,” I said.

She smiled, that beautiful, angelic, perfect smile, and I thought I even caught the slightest hint of a blush.

“You are incorrigible, Mr. Harper.”

I smiled back as the first students began making their way into the room and to their desks, slightly turned on by the use of a word like “incorrigible” from a woman as pretty as she was. Beauty and brains. Smart words made me hard.

I made my way back to my classroom, selfishly hoping that Robin would decide to take a couple of extra sick days just to make sure she healed properly and was germ-free. If I had known that Robin would never step foot into her classroom again, I probably would have felt differently. But, as I have learned in my life, everything happens for a reason, and good can manage to come from the saddest of circumstances.

Six Years Earlier

“Cancer?”

I heard the word and I found myself repeating it over and over again. Cancer. Cancer. Cancer. Maybe I heard it wrong. Maybe I was dreaming that this was even happening. My wife and I watched shows like
Scrubs
and
The Big C
all the time, and found ourselves laughing in spite of the serious subject matter, but hearing the word for yourself was the least funny thing I could imagine ever happening to anyone. Well, now I didn’t have to imagine it. I was hearing it for myself. Cancer.