Page 18 of Teacher of the Year

He offers a sweet smile.

“You know, we’re all dealing with our own stuff, and sometimes I think we try to push it down and hide it.”

Vincent wipes his face, seemingly at nothing, and even with his sexy bald head, angular face and jaw, and that beard, right now he feels more like a friend than a prospective romantic partner. I realize we’re definitely not going to have a repeat date, but he’s a nice guy. He’s been nothing but kind. Maybe the combination of his issues and mine feels like too many damn issues. Doesn’t one of us need to be issue-free or at least with minimal relationship-impacting issues? I’m ready to go home to my sweet Gonzo.

As Val grabs our empty plates and Vincent’s enormous pile of napkins, she asks, “Would you like to see the dessert menu?”

“No, I think we’re all set,” I say.

“Just the check, please,” Vincent adds.

Val brings the check, and before we can discuss it, Vincent grabs the bill.

“Please, my treat, I insist.”

“You’re a sweet man, Vincent. Why don’t you let me get the tip?”

He slides the tray over to me and I leave Val 30 percent because she’s spent the last hour scouring the place for every clean napkin.

Standing outside the restaurant, I’m fairly certain Vincent starts to agree with my better-off-as-friends assessment.

“Well, it was great meeting you. And this place, I’m definitely coming back. Did you drive? Where’d you park?” he asks.

“No, I actually walked. It’s just a ten-minute walk to my place.”

“Can I give you a ride?”

“Oh, thanks, but I actually prefer walking after a meal, but thank you again. It really was nice meeting you.”

“Are you okay with walking alone?”

“Vincent, you are a gentleman. Thank you, but yeah, I’m good. Let’s keep in touch. I can always use a thoughtful friend.”

I lean in for a hug, and there’s an awkward moment when our faces get close, and it confirms – what I think we both feel – there’s just no heat. Down there. A peck on the cheek feels right because even if Vincent isn’t the right guy for me, I’m sure someone will appreciate him. All of him. Even the extra napkins.

“Goodnight,” I say and give him a little wave and turn to walk away.

As I begin my stroll home, I pull my phone out. My heart skips a beat seeing Olan has replied to my text.

Olan: Okay. Marvin. I hope your weekend is off to a good start.

Marvin: Yes, heading home from dinner now. And you too. Hopefully I’ll see you at pickup Monday. ??

Chapter8

Olan: Illona told me “Mr. Block did his best with my hair” and man you gave it your best shot. ??

Marvin: OMG I’m sorry. You might think teaching kindergarten I’d have learned how to braid and do ponytails. You’d be wrong. ??

Olan: Don’t be so hard on yourself. Braids and ponytails are next level tricky.

By the middle of January, Illona has been at school for a couple of weeks and the kids have bounced back to pre-December levels of routine. Illona has seamlessly become an integral member of our community. It warms my heart how she and Cynthia have become fast friends. The rest of the class welcomed her quickly and fiercely too. It reminds me of what a loving and empathetic group of children they are. Sure, there are moments I feel like I’m about to lose my shit, like when Sophia threw up all over her entire table during Writing Time. The aftermath was devastating enough I had to throw away four writing folders and all the work inside. Her table mates were not amused, but nobody wants vomit-covered stories. Even though bodily fluids are par for the course in kindergarten, it was not cute.

Besides Sophia’s puking incident, the days churn on in typical kindergarten crazy fashion. Adding the Teacher of the Year requirements and deadlines into the mix only intensifies the mayhem. My essays and peer reviews were turned in last week and the county winner will be announced on the thirty-first, which is next Monday. Yikes. Having no clue what my chances are, I try my best not to overthink it, but knowing the school’s staffing hangs in the balance makes it difficult.

Olan’s frequent messages are a welcome distraction. The texts have gradually increased in volume, and at this point, I’m fairly confident we are more than acquaintances, if slightly less than actual friends. We may not chat on the phone or get together outside of school, but he texts daily, and I’ve even messaged him a few times unprompted. The cool demeanor from our first meeting has melted away to reveal a caring, thoughtful man. He’s almost charming and definitely harmless.

Is having a straight, single, gorgeous man as a friend new for me? Sure, but maybe I’m evolving? Do I read too much into his messages? Duh. Being unattached and almost thirty, sometimes you have to create your own entertainment. Illona mostly centers our conversations, and I’m not worried our kinship would be viewed as inappropriate. I’ve checked the employee handbook. Four times. There are no rules against fraternizing with parents, let alone dating one. I’m not sure I’d even classify us as friends. Yet.

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