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It’s got a good ring to it, and her designs are incredible. Definitely something that Kristen would have loved.
But stalking her shop and thinking about her smile doesn’t get me any closer to talking to her. On Wednesday, I tried to pick Krew up from school right when the bell rang so that I could bump into Meg while she was out doing bus duty or even afterward when she was in her room, but do you know how early kids get out of school? It was impossible for me to get there before 4:00pm when all the teachers leave for the day.
So I did something crazy.
I asked Melinda at the school for Meg’s number.
I thought she would tell me that it was against school policy to give out teachers’ phone numbers, but I played it off that Krew has really been struggling with his mom's death, and I needed to talk to Miss Johnson about a plan of action.
Yes, I used the death card. No judgment, please.
There have to be some perks to being a widower.
The perk in this instance is that I now have ten digits that belong to Meg Johnson.
Normally, parents don’t text teachers, and I can’t figure out why I’m considering doing it, especially when Meg could lose her job over something like this—not the text, but where the text could lead.
I’m being stupid.
This is just a simple text.
It’s notleadinganywhere.
But I have to have a reason for my text, or else I’ll look like a stalker. I glance at Krew’s open folder, lying on his backpack. The October monthly project seems like the perfect excuse. I pull out my phone and stare at it for a second.
Am I really going to do this?
I take a deep breath and type.
Tyler:Hey…sorry to bother you, but Krew is working on his October monthly project, and we’re wondering if you wanted these leaves glued onto regular paper or something more like cardstock?
I'm channeling Paul’s confidence, so I push send. Then I immediately drop the phone onto the table like it’s a hot potato.
What did I just do?
Paper versus cardstock. I can’t even believe I went with that. It's literally the stupidest excuse, but there’s no turning back now. My text is out there. I sink back into my chair, waiting.
The seconds are excruciating.
Then my phone lights up. I fly forward, my fingers fumbling with the screen.
Meg:Who is this?
I forgot to say my name.
I suck at this.
Tyler:Sorry. This is Tyler Dixon. Do you have more than one Krew in your class?
Meg:No, Krew is the only one, but I was confused.
Confused.
That is not the word you want to hear when you text a woman.
Confused because I shouldn’t be texting her?
Confused because she’s not interested?
