Page 70 of Teacher of the Year

“You trying to steal my husband?” she says with a gravelly voice.

“Oh no, this guy only has eyes for you. I’ve tried.” I pat Nick’s arm.

I walk over to her bed, and more tears cascade from my eyes. I’m crying about Jill, the baby, the secrets I’ve been keeping, Olan, all of it.

“Oh honey, it’s going to be okay. Sit down.”

“I was so worried about you.”

“Marvin, look at me. I’m fine. The baby is healthy. We’re okay.”

I lean over and bury my face into her chest, and the tears morph into a slow sob.

“Buddy, what is going on? There’s something else. What is it?”

I don’t want to talk about Olan. Or myself. Not here, not now. But Jill knows me better than almost anyone, and it’s impossible to fool her.

“These tears. What’s this about?”

“We’ll talk later. Not now, not here.” I motion to the hospital room.

“Marvin, now you’re scaring me. Tell me. Now.”

The time and place aren’t ideal, but I can’t contain it any longer.

“I have to tell you something, but I don’t want to upset you. Not now.”

“Unless you actually are running away with Nick, I promise I won’t be.”

“Noted!” Nick shouts from a chair across the room where he’s engrossed on his phone.

With a needle poking out the top of her hand, for the first time since I’ve arrived she moves her palm from her belly and takes mine in hers, looks at me, and says, “Spill it.”

“There’s something I’ve been keeping from you, and it’s been eating me up because I know it’s created distance between us, and I hate that. I’ve been seeing someone, and I didn’t tell you because, well, it’s Olan, and I wanted to tell you, but he asked me not to say anything, and I agreed. With him being a parent in my class, and Teacher of the Year, and he’s never been with a man, and things were amazing, like beyond amazing, but he told me he’s an alcoholic, well in recovery, but still technically an alcoholic, and he had a relapse last year, but it was only one drink, and he actually does appear sober, but I ran out and haven’t called or texted him since he told me and I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you…”

“Okay, first breathe.”

I close my eyes and inhale, attempting to make the air flow down to my diaphragm and releasing it slowly through my nose.

“Wait, Olan, the hot, rich dad?” Nick asks.

“Yes, very hot. Very rich,” Jill says. “First, thank you for telling me. I knew something was up but didn’t want to push you. Remember, you can always tell me anything. This” – she moves her hands between us – “is a judgment-free zone.”

“I know. I’m sorry. So sorry. We agreed not to tell anyone, and I absolutely hated keeping it from you. Things were going so well. Or I thought they were. And now I’ve fucked it all up. Oh my god, sorry for saying fuck. In front of the baby.” I gesture to her belly.

“For fuck’s sake, you’re good,” she says with a sigh. “First of all, why didn’t he tell you he was in recovery?”

“I mean, we’re not super serious yet. Maybe because of my mom? Maybe because he knew I’d freak out? Which I did. So actually, maybe he was smart to keep it from me. I ran out of there like a nincompoop.”

“Wait, ran out of where?”

“He rented a cottage on Peaks, and I went for a few days.”

“And you didn’t tell me?”

“I know! I’m so sorry. I felt awful keeping things from you. I wanted to tell you, I almost did, but then didn’t, and things were, well, moving along with us.”

“Wait, have you had sex with him?”

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