Page 89 of Teacher of the Year

“No, sweetie, they are not stuck in the friend zone,” Isabella replies.

“Princess, remember we talked about this. I like Marvin.”

“He’s your friend,” Illona says.

“Yes, he’s my friend, but more than a friend.”

“Is that why you always want to kiss him?”

And now it’s my turn to cough up some Pad See Ew. Thankfully, Isabella jumps in.

“Yes, when you like someone more than a friend, sometimes you want to kiss them. And your dad, well, eventually, he got the hint with me, but I had to lead him there. He had no clue what to do.”

“Oh my gosh, are you serious?” I ask.

“Hey, hey, I’m sitting right here,” Olan says.

As it turns out, Isabella does not want to devour me alive. We end up chatting and teasing Olan quite a bit which makes the blood gather in his ears, but he seems to be enjoying the camaraderie at the table. Illona giggles, hearing stories about her parents in high school, and while my head tells me I should feel awkward about it, my heart loves learning more about his past.

Once we’re done, and the table’s cleared, it’s almost Illona’s bedtime. Since the evening has gone reasonably well so far, I don’t want to push my luck and I plan to leave once she’s upstairs.

“Daddy, can you tuck me in?” Illona pleads, and Olan has no way out.

Illona gives her mom a kiss and me a hug and skips upstairs.

“I’ll be back in five minutes,” Olan tells us. He gives me a reassuring smile, winks, and follows. For the first time, Isabella and I are alone.

We flank the island. I fiddle with the loops on my jeans, poking my fingers in and out. Isabella lets out a sizeable breath.

“Let’s go sit on the sofa,” she suggests.

We sit on opposite ends, me squishing myself up against the armrest to put as much space between us as possible. Isabella pulls her legs up underneath herself and grabs a reddish throw pillow that brings out the scarlet tones in her hair. She shoves a stray lock away from her eyes with a sharp movement. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see how Olan fell for her.

“Marvin, I want to thank you. You’ve made the best of a challenging situation for Illona. Moving in the middle of the school year, being away from her mother, well, she adores you, and I can’t tell you how much that means to me.”

I’m not sure where to look. Eye contact would be the polite move, but my skin tingles with discomfort at her compliments.

“Um, thank you. She’s a complete pleasure to have in class. You and Olan have one phenomenal kid.”

“You’re sweet. She’s been easy. We’re lucky. And Olan, I can’t say I’ve seen him this smitten before. It’s nice.”

My feet shuffle on the floor, and I give a thin smile as she speaks. I’m trying to loosen up, but failing miserably and am beyond grateful the sweater I’m wearing hides the Noah’s-Ark-level flood happening in my armpits.

“We had a difficult time last year. I’m sure Olan’s told you. And I’m glad he’s back to working his program. Do you know much about AA?” Her head tilts.

“A little. My mother’s in recovery.”

“Oh, Olan didn’t tell me that.”

“Yeah, for about twelve years, so I’m pretty familiar with the program.”

“Wonderful, that will be helpful to him. After his relapse last year, we had some tough decisions to make. About the business, but also, well, us. When you’re getting sober or after a relapse, the program suggests you focus solely on yourself for the first year.”

“That makes sense.”

“I’m not sure if he told you, but Olan worked way too much. Selling the business was one component of focusing on himself. Part of that first year is no major life changes… like dating.”

Now somewhere in my head, I’ve heard this. Probably years ago from my mother, but it was one of many on a list of no-no’s your first year. And Olan had only had one drink, right? Was this vital? And his one-year anniversary since his relapse was coming up.

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