Page 29 of Avoiding Temptation
A tingle of fear races down my spine as I think about my nightmare. I haven’t had one since I left. I thought I’d managed to escape that little bit of my past, but it seems that now I’ve sent away the one thing that made me feel safe, he’s going to slip back into my brain to torture me some more. It doesn’t matter how many miles I put between us, he’ll always be inside my head, and he damn well knows it. That was all part of the game. The game he played with me, and with his students. If only I was brave enough to speak up sooner, to expose him for what he really is.
Heading for the kettle for a very strong cup of coffee, my eyes land on the wet fabric still in the sink, and my stomach twists painfully as memories of his face as I made him walk away fill my mind.
I drain the now very cold water and set about washing it once again, wishing like hell it was last night again and that he’s going to come strolling out of the bathroom wrapped in only a towel.
I know it’s not going to happen, and disappointment floods me until the back of my throat burns with tears.
I did the right thing. I did the right thing,I repeat over and over, trying to convince myself that it’s the truth.
I need to get through this alone, and then, when it’s safe to properly move on, I will. I will rebuild my life the way I want, but right now isn’t the time to be focusing on my future. I need to focus on the present and what might be waiting just around the corner for me.
Throwing Joe’s shirt into the dryer, I find my own dirty clothes, intending on giving them the same treatment seeing as a trip to the laundrette is the last thing I want to do right now. The monotonous task of hand-washing them is actually quite tempting, but when I glance down at the twinset in my hands, something rebellious hits me and instead of dropping them into the warm water I’ve just run, I ball them up and throw them in the bin.
Instead, I wash the few new bits I’ve bought and throw what I can into the dryer before grabbing my phone and doing some online shopping.
I plan next week and order the food I need. I keep the purchases to the minimum, knowing that I’ve got other things I want to splash what little money I have on. God, pay day can’t come soon enough.
I get through three cups of coffee, but by the time I eventually put my phone down, I’ve not only got my food arriving tomorrow but three separate clothes deliveries. I’ve kept some of the old me hanging around for too long. It’s time to banish the weak and pathetic woman she was and finally embrace the life I’ve always dreamed of, even if it is from the comfort of my studio flat.
I want to be braver than this. I want to be out embracing the city and exploring some of what Joe gave me a taste of on Thursday night, but after what happened with him yesterday and then my nightmare, I’m not sure I can do it. I’ll have to leave eventually—I have a job, after all. I tell myself that I’ve got two days to wallow about the ridiculous mistake I made inviting Joe in here last night and in memories of my past before I take London by storm on Monday morning.
Okay, so that might be a bit of an exaggeration, but it fires me up enough to push my past back behind the trapdoor I thought I’d banished it to.
Chapter Eleven
I holdmy head up high as I walk out of my building first thing on Monday morning. I’m wearing one of the new outfits I ordered over the weekend, I’ve done my hair and make-up, and I’m feeling good. But that doesn’t stop me looking around the second the door slams shut behind me. I pause to see if there’s any movement or rustling in the bushes.
I’m being paranoid, I know I am, but I can’t help it. Joe pulling up on the curb like he did in front of me Friday night really spooked me.
I tell myself that no one’s there, that no one even cares where I am, and I head towards the tube. I feel better once I’m surrounded by commuters and heading to my classroom.
My first lesson of the week is with Jodi. I’m hopeful that her last lesson was just a one off, and I’ll find her smiling and more willing to interact, but the second she walks into the room, I know it was wishful thinking.
She keeps her head down as the others chat away and slowly find their seats. She pulls her books out but still doesn’t risk glancing up. My heart aches for her. I’ve no idea what her story is, but there’s something so sad and broken in her eyes, ones I recognise from my former life. I desperately want to tell her that it won’t last forever, that she is in control of her own destiny, but it’s not really my place to just assume. People’s lives are often much more complex than we can imagine, and I’d hate to jump to conclusions about what she’s dealing with.
The students must have had a good weekend, because it seems to take forever to get them settled. Eventually, I get them reading silently so I can begin catching up with their coursework progress.
Flipping my planner to this class, I start at the top and make my way down the register, talking individually to each student.
“Jodi, you’re up,” I call.
She pushes her chair out and walks towards the front of the room. No one looks up at her; it’s kind of like she’s invisible, probably exactly how she wants it.
She sits herself down in the chair opposite and drops her work to my desk. I scan over it, getting a feel for the quality, and I can’t believe what I’m looking at.
“Jodi, this is amazing. Your use of language is incredible, and the way you’re describing how that sonnet made you feel…it’s well beyond the level of this class. You’re really talented.”
Looking up from the paper, I watch as her sad, lonely face morphs into the most stunning smile.
“Really?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Yeah, really.”
“I wasn’t sure if it was right.”
“There’s no wrong answer to how a passage makes you feel, Jodi. That will be different for every one of us based on our lives and experiences. It’s the way you’ve described it.”
The pure joy on her face melts my heart. This right here is why I wanted to be a teacher. I grew up knowing I didn’t really have any other choice, but I truly enjoy what I do. Although I’ve imagined my ideal life a million times, I was always still teaching. I love giving young people the opportunity to find themselves just like Jodi is right now.
