Page 26 of Bad Professor

I don’t know why I haven’t, and with each day I wait, it makes it more difficult. And what would I say to him, anyway? Hey, I really liked how you fucked me. Want to do it again?

It had been just sex. Good sex—amazing, incredible, possibly best sex of my life—but just sex.

I think it might be how good it had been is what is stopping me from calling. Because what happens if the next time is better? What would that mean?

I’m not sure I have the energy to figure out what things mean. To navigate dating. Relationships are complicated at any age, but especially when you’re forty-five and have two teenage daughters who can smell an excuse a mile away.

But Dexter isn’t looking for a relationship. It was just sex with him, and why wouldn’t it be? He’s smart and sexy and young. Why would he ever be interested in a relationship with someone like me?

But what if he was?

That little voice, with the big question, has kept me from texting him.

“Return of the King.” I point at the screen. “Classic epic tale about good versus evil.”

“I know, Mom. I’ve seen it.”

“Yes, but you’ve never sat down and watched it all the way through with me. All eleven hours.”

Jordan looks horrified. “This movie is eleven hours long?”

I smile. “Three movies, plus the three Hobbit movies.”

My smile widens as Jordan takes the seat beside me, leaning in to scoop a handful of popcorn from the bowl on my lap.

I ordered pizza for dinner, and then Jade went out with her friends, and Jordan escaped to her room. They have become comfortable here, but it’s not their home yet. Carlos kept the house—something I will always regret. That was my house—I took care of it as much as I took care of the girls. I gave up a career to look after my family, only to be replaced when Carlos found someone younger. Sexier. Prettier.

I left when I found out about the affair, and I took the girls. I cowered in a too-small apartment for three months while I figured out how to stifle my hurt and anger so the girls wouldn’t think their mother was falling apart.

I didn’t fall apart—only a little at the beginning. And I think that showed more about the status of my marriage than anything Carlos did.

As soon as I moved out, Carlos had moved in with his girlfriend. I knew Heidi; she was a yoga instructor. My yoga instructor. I had introduced them, taking Carlos to an introductory couples class as a way to find something we could do together.

It was such a sad cliché.

The girls, to my utter surprise, handled it well. I think it had a lot to do with my acting abilities. How I made it seem like the split was mutual. Or it could be that they’ve repressed their feelings about it, and it will show up later in life.

I’ll be watching for that.

But in the meantime, I’m grateful that they are so well-adjusted that I have the opportunity to watch a movie with my fourteen-year-old without dealing with anger and depression or even sulky moods.

It’s enough to have to deal with my own.

I sit with my daughter and eat popcorn as we watch Pippin cower beside Gandalf, waiting for Gondor to be overrun by Orcs. “Dad doesn’t like this movie,” Jordan says out of nowhere.

Dad doesn’t like anything. But I vowed not to let my bitterness and hurt affect the girls’ relationship with their father. They see too much as it is, but I won’t be the one who taints them. “He says it was too unrealistic,” I explain. “Your father likes facts and truths and things he can understand.”

Except for our marriage. He never understood how much I gave up for him, even my identity.

But there’s no sense thinking about this now. It only leads to bitterness and resentment, and I’ve had enough of both.

“Got everything ready for school tomorrow?” I lift my arm so Jordan can tuck herself against me. She hums her response. “You nervous?”

Carlos thinks we shouldn’t focus on Jordan’s anxiety; if we ignore it, it will go away. But I don’t think it works like that, and I know Jordan always feels better after talking about her feelings.

“How did you do it?” she asks instead of answering. “You started university last year, all by yourself and you were…” she trails off.

“Old?” I offer.

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