Newbie (24 page)

“Hold this here, with both hands.”

“No. That isn’t your candy. This is.”

“No, don’t suck the frosting out of the icing tip.”

“What do you mean, you ate them?”

I rush from desk to desk as do the two moms, but finally the students have houses, shacks, dugouts, or things that look more like patios decorated for the holidays. I send them home the second the bell rings to enjoy two full weeks of vacation. All of us.

Looking around the room, I realize that cleaning will take a little longer tonight. How did we get so much icing on the windows? I mean, the desks, the floor, even some of the walls—I can understand. The vacuum is roaring in Beth’s room, so I wander over to put dibs on it after she’s finished, and I am immediately thankful my Holiday Helpers didn’t think up a craft idea using glitter and glue.

December 21, 2007

Newbie Blog:

I Blame Santa

Not the real one who anonymously put coins in the shoes of children and maidens centuries ago, but the one pictured on every store advertisement I’ve seen for two months. Somehow, that one has taken over with a doctrine of spend more.

The reason I can be so sure, if I’m being honest, is that he had me brainwashed too. I have long been part of the loosely controlled orgy called “holiday spending.” Yes, I stood in the cold for hours to rush the technology counter for doorbusters on Black Friday. (Which should probably be called Green Friday or Black-and-Blue Friday, from what I’ve seen.)

This year, several stores opened just after midnight and I was there. Yes, I pushed teenagers and shopping carts out of my way to grab the last iPod on the rack. At one store, I arrived too late to stand in line and have any chance at the good stuff, so I loitered stealthily in the parking lot until the doors were unlocked, then I rushed the line, winning the right to purchase a 7-cup food processor I don’t need—at forty percent off of the limited quantity available while supplies last. I have seized, bumped, blocked, climbed, grappled and yelled in my quest for Santa-supremacy. And won.

But perhaps lost Christmas.

This week was completely different. One of the traditions of the school is to gather in the gym each morning, sitting around a large decorated Christmas tree and singing carols. Everyone is there, and we share twenty minutes of joy before starting our day. On Wednesday, we caroled at the retirement home next door and made precious friendships. On Thursday, our faculty got together and enjoyed a meal. The local high school choir sang for us, and we shared conversation without a syllable of shoptalk. (I didn’t know Mrs. Haze has a daughter my age.) On Friday, our Holiday Helper actually came and threw a party for the class. Everything we did this week seemed to be about relationships. I have Christmas back.

Something I’ve learned this week:

You shouldn’t keep permanent markers near the dry erase board when toddlers are around, not being supervised by their mothers and who know how to take the top off the marker. Mr. Sam used my hairspray to get the permanent marker off. I can do that next time, and I’m fairly sure there will be a next time.

Merry Christmas!

E
ighty-two degrees. Not here—here it’s barely above twenty degrees with a huge snowstorm expected for Christmas Day. In Hawaii, they’re expecting sun and waves and maybe snow cones.

Last night after work, Liam came to my house to say good-bye and have our Christmas together. “Ready, set, go.” We both began madly unwrapping the boxes on our laps. I got mine open first and started laughing. Liam gave me a jersey for the Colorado Rapids, with matching earmuffs and scarf.

“You have recess duty next month. Trust me you’ll need those. What’s so funny?” he questioned, thinking I was snickering about the muffs. Then he pulled the top from his box to reveal a Manchester United jersey. “So, we’re agreed. We’ll be seeing a lot more soccer.”

I’m leaving for the airport early today. Seriously, in which alternate universe would I rather stay home than go to Hawaii? This one, but Liam will be busy celebrating with his family. I really wanted to ditch my trip instead of saying good-bye to Liam. He went to the airport last night to pick up his sister’s family. His whole family is spending the holiday in Vail at their vacation home.

Just as I finish getting the last of my luggage to leave the house, I notice Liam’s gloves on the coffee table. I grab them and jump in the car, thinking I’ll drop them off before I go. It’s kind of on the way, north-ish, and I have a little—okay very little—extra time, but enough for another good-bye.

It’s seven thirty—that’s not too early to go to someone’s house on Saturday, is it? I pull up and tap in the code to let myself through the gate. As I near Liam’s house, there are lights on, so it’s not too early. Yay! One more hug. One more kiss. I park, jump out of my car and hustle to the door, bouncing slightly on my toes as I ring the bell. A chill wind blows through the light coat I’m wearing, not wanting to drag something heavy around Hawaii. Anyway, Liam can warm me up with a couple of kisses before I leave again.

“Yes?”

I just stare at her tan (yes, tan, in the middle of December) legs below the shirttails of Liam’s Rapid’s soccer jersey. No makeup (though she doesn’t need it) and bare feet—she just got up. I don’t know her face at all. I think back to last night when Liam told me, “I’m picking my sister up at the airport. It’s too bad you’ll just miss her. She’s flying in tonight, and you’ll leave early in the morning.”

This is not his sister.

“Are you Sophie? I know Liam hasn’t mentioned me. I’m Meg.” She holds out her hand, but I can’t raise mine. All I can do is nod.

“Well, this is uncomfortable.” But her expression looks like she means it’s uncomfortable for me and not her. “Liam said…well, we thought you’d be gone by now. I’m sure he wouldn’t want us to meet. Especially not like this,” she says, smoothing down the front of the jersey. “He’s in the shower. Would you like me to get him for you?”

Tears silently trail down my cheeks. I hand the gloves to her and turn to leave. “I have a flight.”

“Maybe it’s good you found out, Sophie. You know, good we met.”

When the daze lifts a bit, I realize I’m on the freeway, driving toward the Denver International Airport. I force myself to concentrate on my lane and the other drivers. Maybe he has a sister I haven’t met—who doesn’t look anything like either of his parents—and who he has never mentioned—and who makes sadistically suggestive remarks because she thinks it’s funny and—I wish that was a sister. Well, except that it would be disturbing.

My phone keeps ringing. I picked it up the first time, but it was Liam’s number, so I’m not even checking anymore. I’m not talking to him now. Maybe ever.

A few weeks ago, I thought I’d only keep the teaching job until winter break anyway. Maybe I should leave. But I love the children in my class, and I want to finish the year with them. Liam and I can both work at the same place. Sure. We’re grownups. We can ignore each other and fake being fine. He probably
is
fine. I was leading myself on. What was he supposed to say? “Just so you know, Sophie, I like kissing you but only until Meg comes.”

I can avoid him. Except I won’t. I’ll look for him in the hallways, or watch him through the window at recess, or sit in the faculty room at the same time for lunch. People at work will mention him casually, not knowing how it rips through my heart. My eyes will search for him so I can ignore him some more. I can fake fine.

As I board the plane and find my seat by Mom, my phone rings again. I reject it, sending it straight to voice mail. It rings right back. My eyes tear up again as pain from the memory flares. I jab the green button. “What do you want?”

“Sophie, let me explain. . .”

“No, answer my questions first. Where did you meet Meg?”

“In college. We…”

“Did you date her?”

“Yes, I…”

“Were you going to tell me about her?”

“Well, no…”

“Did she spend the night Liam?”

I wait. “Okay that pause was way too long. You know I get it. Old girlfriend, previous history. Don’t stress it. You don’t have to explain anything to me or lie to me about picking up
your sister
. Just say good-bye Liam, and mean it so I can let go too.”

Again, he makes no reply. “Or don’t. Look the plane door is closed now, bye.” I turn off my phone.

Unable to block the images or shed the sorrow, I lean my head back and let tears slip down my ears and neck. The flight attendant approaches us, but Mom just asks for a pillow and blanket for me, which I snuggle into up to my chin, trying to think of nothing and no one. I watch two movies and eat a couple of times, but I can’t get my mind to stop replaying the scene at Liam’s door. Her straight black hair easily reached her elbows. No, she’s right. Liam wouldn’t want me to see her, or meet her, or have to explain her. So he didn’t.

Despair rocks through my chest. Oh, no, I did it again. I started dating someone I work with. This time was different—at least for me. I was really falling in love, but to him I’m just someone to hang out with, and she’s the one who goes to the family Christmas party in Vail. Apparently, I’m the friend and she’s the girlfriend. My heart crushes more and I give into another binge of crying, though I’ve run out of tears.

We finally touch down, then Mom and I board a shuttle to go to the condo on the north shore. Liam calls again and again. Smacking the button to reject the call is satisfying somehow. I hope it’s driving him crazy. Why does he bother?

We settle into our rooms and collapse in the living room to plan out our stay. My phone rings again. I ignore the call. Mom ventures, “Sophie, I heard a little of your conversation on the plane. What happened?”

I fill her in on the early morning visit and the gloves and Meg. Twice I cry so hard that I gasp and snort as I cuddle closer, letting her hand smooth my hair in gentle strokes.

“I don’t ever want to see him again. We’ve only been dating a few months, but it hurts so much.” One of my arms winds around my stomach and the other hugs the opposite shoulder as I curl in to myself. Mom pulls me closer.

When my mother’s arm loosens around my shoulders, she looks into my eyes. “You don’t have to be with someone for thirty years to feel the loss of them from your life.”

My emotions suddenly freeze. I can’t imagine her own loss. I’m pierced with the realization that she gets it. She understands loss. Profoundly. I remember seeing my parents love for each other. They truly enjoyed each other’s company but also gave each other space to grow. They completed the world for each other. Then my father was taken from her—us—without warning. That’s how it feels now—sudden, crushing change.

She continues, “Sophie, what does your gut tell you? Is Liam a player?”

“No. He claims he’s never been in love. But Meg … and why wouldn’t he answer my question?”

“I don’t know, but maybe you should talk to him before you decide he’s out of your life. You might miss something you really want to keep.”

A few minutes later, Liam calls, again. I sit on my bed, holding my phone and listening to the ringing music. It is just about to go to voicemail. I pull it up and punch the green button. “What?” I snap.

“Sophie, I need to talk to you. I can’t do this on the phone. Where are you?”

“Hawaii. Remember last night? Kiss good-bye—I’ll miss you—whatever else you said before you went to the airport for Meg.”

“Where in Hawaii?”

“It doesn’t matter.” The reality of it takes my voice away and I can barely sigh, “Leave this alone. I got the message, and I’ve cried enough.”

“I’m already on a plane. I left for the airport as soon as I found out what Meg did. Which island?”

“Oahu.” What does he mean, what Meg did? What
he
did.

“I took a guess. I’m flying into Honolulu. It’ll be late, but I’ll call as soon as I’m there. Sophie, please see me so I can explain.”

“We’re not in Honolulu. We rented a condo near Waimea Bay. You can call me when you get here. If I’m still awake, I’ll talk to you.” Of course I’ll be awake, but do I want to talk to him? Right now—no.

Just before midnight, Liam sits next to me on the sofa in the living room. I scoot over to leave enough room between us for another person—Meg—to sit in. He starts to move closer, but my hand flies up with my palm facing him, and he stops. He sits still for a moment, his eyes questioning my face. I see something tender behind them, maybe fear.

“I can listen if you have something to say.” Listen, yes. Understand, no.

“You asked if I had dated Meg, and I said yes.”

Ha! I feel justified in my anger, but pierced straight through the heart.

“She was Elise’s roommate in college—that’s how we met. She grew up in the same town as Paul and introduced Paul to Elise. They’ve been close friends ever since, and they’re even neighbors now.”

I don’t think I want to hear this, but my face is unresponsive, so he continues, “Yes, we dated very briefly over five years ago. I knew quickly I didn’t want a relationship with her then and definitely not now. Then you asked if I was going to tell you about her. I said no, and the phone went dead. No, I wasn’t planning to tell you about her because I never think about her.”