Page 58 of Teacher of the Year

“You know I never remember things. Wait, California, so far away, the poor child never sees her mother?”

To the best of my knowledge, Illona has not seen her mother other than on FaceTime since they moved, and since I don’t have a good answer to this, I simply say, “She sees her mom.”

“How did you meet him? Was it online? I’ve read those dating apps are very dangerous, Marvin. Are you being careful? Do you need me to hire a private investigator? What else? Tell me something else about him?”

There’s no way I’m telling Sarah how we actually met. To halt this line of questioning, I simply say, “Mom, he’s amazing.”

“Amazing? You never said that about Adam.”

“Well, I guess he wasn’t. Isn’t. Or not to me.”

“Oh, honey. I’m so sorry. About Adam, I mean. Not Mr. Amazing. And he’s nice to you?”

“Beyond nice. And, actually, I need to run because I’m meeting him now.”

“Okay, call me next weekend. I have more questions!”

“Bye, Mom.”

“I love you, honey.”

“Love you too.”

Oy.

* * *

March in Maine means spinning the weather roulette wheel. You never know what you’ll get. We’ve had full-on nor’easter snowstorms and days warm enough to require a fan. Spending spring break on Peaks Island was a crapshoot, but the island’s magic beckoned. Strolling to the ferry, my light jacket on but not zipped, I’m slightly nervous about spending three whole nights with Olan and Illona. There have been zero sleepovers since the night I stayed in the guest room. The night I knelt before him and went wild on his gorgeous cock. I can’t stop thinking about it. In my hand. My lips wrapped around it.Oy. We haven’t talked about the sleeping arrangements, and I just hope I can keep it in my pants.

“She knows you’re a close friend,” Olan told me.

“Okay. But what about the kids at school?”

“I told her she could tell them we’re friends. I mean, we are friends.”

“True, but…”

“But nothing. She adores you. I adore you. And well, try to relax.”

“You adore me?”

“Of course I do. Can’t you tell? Now try to relax,” he repeated.

“Relax. Maybe you could help me with that?”

Worrying about Illona seems fruitless. Other teachers spend time with students’ families they’re friends with. We’re not doing anything inappropriate in front of her. Deep breaths. I’m going to enjoy this mini-break. Olan found an off-season rental online, which will be my lodging for the long weekend.

I stand outside, ticket in hand, waiting for the noon boat. The breeze carries the smell of fish and salt water, and various boats surround me, awaiting their cargo. As the ferry arrives from the island, less than a third full, a small group of people gathers near the dock.

Typically, in warmer weather, I would climb the stairs and head to the boat’s top level – the cozy sun shining down and a cool breeze off the water attempting to blow my hair every which way. But today, barely fifty degrees, I find a seat on the upper inside deck by a window. As the booming horn blasts our departure, the boat picks up speed, and I watch Portland slowly shrink in the distance.

Of all the islands accessible by ferry, Peaks provides the largest variety of shops and restaurants. Cars are allowed on the ferry and island, but most people putter about in golf carts or bikes, adding to the quaint charm.

A short twenty-five-minute ride, and the boat softly collides with the dock. Once the few cars on board depart, I walk off, the island emitting its own quiet, peaceful energy. Immediately off the dock, a few restaurants dot the road, along with a golf cart kiosk. The air feels fresher, calmer, and more nautical. As I’m looking around and wondering if I should text Olan, he and Illona pull up in a darling golf cart. Illona leans over and beeps the horn, waves, and calls, “Marvin! Marvin!”

From the moment I spot him, Olan appears more relaxed than I’ve seen him. He’s wearing a chunky deep blue sweater and jeans. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him wearing denim, and they look good on him. Very good. I approach the cart and they jump off to hug me. Having them embrace me simultaneously, we become a tangle of arms and squeezing. I close my eyes, breathe deeply, and take in the comforting feeling in my chest.

“You’re here! For three whole days!” Illona says, still latched on to my waist.

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