Page 88 of Teacher of the Year

“Sit.” Olan pats a stool. “They’ll be down in a minute. What can I get you to drink?”

I rub the back of my neck and lean on the island. I’m sure Isabella not coming down when she heard the bell means nothing about how she feels about me being here. Right?

“Water’s great. Wait, do you have any ginger ale? Maybe the bubbles will help the flipping in my stomach.”

“Marv, I’m here. Everything’s going to be wonderful. I promise,” he says, pouring my drink into a glass as Illona’s voice travels down the stairs toward us.

“Cynthia said we can do a sleepover if all our parents say okay, so I need to work on Daddy, and I’m going to ask him tonight because he loves my hair this way, so I think he’ll say yes…”

I move both hands to the island, bracing myself for impact as they join us.

“Marvin!” Illona runs over and wraps her arms around my waist, and my breath becomes steadier, so I move my hands from the island to return her embrace.

“Hey there, oh my gosh, look at your hair. It’s beautiful.”

Two thick braids hug either side of her head down to the base of her neck, where the hair spills out into the gorgeous curls I’m used to. It’s truly a work of art.

“Mommy did it after school.”

Of course she did. “Well, it’s amazing,” I say, turning to Isabella. “Truly, I’ve never seen anything like this.” I run my hand over the left braid as Illona unclasps from me.

“I’ve had years of practice,” Isabella says, slipping a hand into her pocket. Unlike me, she’s still wearing the same outfit I met her in a few hours ago.

“Well, it shows,” I say and give a little laugh even though there’s nothing funny about what she said, what I said, or the situation.

“Flowers. I brought you some. Flowers. Um, here,” I say, thrusting the flowers toward her.

“Marvin, that was sweet of you. They’re beautiful.” There’s a kindness in her eyes I wasn’t expecting.

Olan gestures at the kitchen island. “Why don’t we get some food and eat.”

“I’m starving!” Illona says, still right next to me.

“Me too,” I add.

Olan supplies Isabella with a vase and she arranges the flowers. We spend the next few minutes in relative silence, with everyone piling their plates from the containers spread out on the island. Curries, noodle dishes, and vegetables create a vibrant array of colors and textures, and I do my best to load my plate up while Isabella helps Illona with hers.

“Excuse me.” Olan comes behind me for a spring roll, weaving his arm around me a little too close for comfort given the current circumstances. I have to remind myself “she knows,” to avoid a spiral into panic.

“Sorry,” I blurt as I shift away from him.

Finally, we sit at the table and begin eating. Illona attempts to use chopsticks but succumbs to defeat and grabs her fork.

“So, I know you two met at school, but how did things, well, evolve?” Isabella asks.

Her tone feels light and curious, and Olan doesn’t jump in, so I take a quick breath through my nose to reply.

“I give my cell phone out to families for questions, issues, emergencies, that type of thing, and well, I guess Olan had a lot of questions.”

“Yup, that adds up. Do you know, when we met in high school, Olan used to sit by himself at lunch? This handsome guy, with all the girls whispering about him, and he was completely clueless. Eventually, I went up to him and introduced myself. Here I am, doing my best to flirt, and all he wanted to do was chat about calculus and engines. For the longest time, I was convinced we would never exit the friend zone.”

“Mommy, what’s the friend zone?” Illona asks.

“It’s when two people are friends. But not more than friends. Having friends is lovely, right? But they don’t have stronger feelings like wanting to be together and maybe get married,” Isabella says.

“You mean like Daddy and Marvin?”

Out of the mouths of babes. My eyes go wide. Olan actually coughs up a bit of Pad Thai.

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