Page 25 of Teacher of the Year

“Well, Illona’s had dinner, and it appears you’ve brought provisions. That was kind, Marvin. You didn’t have to do that. Illona, listen to Mr. Block, have fun, and I’ll see you in the morning.” He lifts Illona into his arms, and I swear the fabric on his sweater lets out a little scream as he flexes to raise her. He gives her a goodnight kiss and gently puts her down while Cindy grabs their coats.

“We should be home by ten. If you need anything, just text.”

“Got it.” I smile and nod, trying my best to hide my awkwardness.

As they glide out the door I entered through only a few minutes ago, Olan gently puts his hand on the small of Cindy’s back, turns to give me a small wave, and pulls the door shut. A consummate professional, the click of the door reminds me to focus on Illona.

“Have you ever made Shrinky Dinks?”

“Um, I don’t even know what those are.”

“You are in for some wild fun tonight, my friend.”

Illona and I head to the kitchen for some Shrinky Dink shenanigans. I’m unsure if I can fully explain the gorgeous fanciness of this kitchen. Where the kitchen in my apartment is beyond basic, and the dishwasher doesn’t work and probably never will, this looks more like a place a cooking show might film. The number of buttons and lights overwhelms me. The stove has eight burners. Eight. Who needs eight burners? I barely use one on my small compact stove. What army does Olan prepare food for? Two stove doors confuse me as one appears smaller than the other, and I can’t understand why. Then again, why two stoves? Eight burners and two stoves. Does he cater events on weekends? My brain insists on torturing me because now I’m picturing Olan whipping up a feast for me wearing a crisp white apron and nothing else.

Turning our attention to the Shrinky Dinks, Illona and I set up shop on the enormous granite kitchen island. I’ve brought a collection of animals, and Illona chooses a unicorn, horse, and cat. Not to be left out on the fun, I work on a lovely butterfly. To complement our story, I attempt to match the colors of the illustrations. Our treasures baking in the oven, we feast on popcorn and candy. Filled with anticipation, Illona twirls in front of the oven as I click the light on so she can watch our creations shrivel up.

“They’re shrinking!”

Illona watches gleefully as the colored plastic animals wrinkle and writhe in the oven. Much like my heart when Olan left with Cindy. Even though seeing the two of them together felt like a punch in the stomach, spending a little one-on-one time with Illona is a wonderful consolation prize.

At eight, we head upstairs so she can brush her teeth.

“I don’t need any help,” she instructs, so I sit on her bed with the book and wait.

Illona’s bathroom is attached to her bedroom and has a large tub, way bigger than a small child would ever need. The wallpaper has purple and pink peonies and somehow appears both juvenile and sophisticated. Her room, about three times the size of my bedroom, is a lighter shade of purple, and multiple unicorn, horse, and kitty stuffies join Noelle on her queen-sized bed. Small twinkle lights are tacked onto the ceiling, and it’s not hard to imagine any small child loving this space. Heck, I’d move in and never leave.

On her bedside table, a framed photo of Illona with both her parents rests. I’ve never seen her mother, and naturally, I’m curious. The woman in the picture has long sandy blonde hair pulled away from her face and hazel eyes that sparkle, just like Illona’s. She’s stunning, which given Olan, doesn’t surprise me. In the photo, Illona appears to be about three, and everyone smiles and appears connected when this moment was captured.

“Ready!” She sprints into the room, jumps onto the bed, and scurries under her pink pastel comforter.

One of my all-time favorites, Illona knowsThe Very Hungry Caterpillarwell from class. I hoped she would read it with me, and as soon as I begin, she joins in. We giggle at the caterpillar eating all the junk food, and she nestles into the space between my arm and chest as we finish the story.

I close the book and Illona instinctively scoots down and lays her head on the pillow. I’m still in my spot and Illona says, “Mr. Block, can I ask you a question?”

“You know, outside school, you can call me Marvin if you want.” I should have offered this earlier, but given our evening together, it’s a no-brainer. Her eyes open wide, and she lifts her shoulders, and I know she’s fond of the idea.

“Now, what’s your question?”

“Okay. Do you think the butterfly misses being a caterpillar?”

“Hmmm. You know, I never really thought about it. I bet he misses eating all the yummy snacks.”

“I’d miss the cupcake and the ice cream.”

“Well, I’d miss all the fruit. And the chocolate cake. Okay, mostly the chocolate cake,” I add. “But, no, I don’t think he misses being a caterpillar.”

“Why not?”

“Well, even after he changes into a beautiful butterfly, he’s still the same on the inside. He’s been the butterfly all along, he just wasn’t ready to grow yet.”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” she says, and I’m not sure if I’ve gotten too philosophical. “Thanks for watching me, Marvin,” she says with a yawn.

“Thanks for letting me. Goodnight, Illona.”

“Good night, Marvin,” she whispers.

Illona snuggles Noelle and, witnessing how ferociously she loves her stuffed kitty, I think of Gonzo asleep in my apartment, waiting for his dad to return. I know having a cat isn’t the same as having a child, but being here with Illona, spending some quality time with her, and putting her to bed, I understand the fuss over being a dad. Nothing would make my mother happier than having a grandchild, and sometimes I think I want that, but I’m not sure I’d enjoy doing it alone. Being a single parent seems incredibly difficult. Maybe I need to cut my mother a little slack.

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