Page 21 of Interpreter

“Well, you asked me if the coffee was for you,” I attempt to explain. “I would have brought one for youif you drank coffee.”

Her lips pinch at the corners. “Maybe I wanted you to think of me?”

Wouldn’t that have been a waste of coffee? Yes, yes it would have been. This whole conversation has been a waste, but I told myself it was a new day. I was not going to spend the rest of my year here being annoyed with my ridiculous friend.

“You’re right. Next time I’m getting coffee, I will think of you, Gretchen.”

My comment seems to suffice since she goes back to pilfering through the refrigerator.

“Eep!” she squeals, turning back around before I can even set my coffee down. “Did you hear about the new guy?”

Ah, shit. Here we go.

“What new guy?”

It’s possible we may have more than one.

Gretchen hops up and down like the mere thought of containing this information for much longer is going to explode her body into bits. “The Greek god! Did you not see him yesterday in the car line?” She trots over and grabs me around the arm, killing my stain-free morning with one well-placed shake. “Not only is he hot, but he gets into a Jeep with two other hot guys and O-M-G! Guess what he did as soon as he got in?”

I’m wiping the coffee off my pale pink top, which is now favoring a cherry chocolate color when she flops down at the table all dramatically with a hand on her forehead like Scarlett O’Hara. “He kisses the baby in the car seat!” Her body slumps as she comes down from the high. “Girl, I thought I was going to come right there, halfway in Ms. Tipton’s car.”

Oh for goodness sake.

“Men kissing babies is the best porn ever. Screw the puppies and firefighters. Give me a hunky dude and a baby and BOOM! Instant orgasm.”

I highly doubt it’s instant, but nevertheless, I laugh at her inappropriate description.

“No one knows his name,” she continues in a dramatic fashion. “Martha, on the third grade hall, tried talking to him, and he completely ignored her. I mean, she’s kind of a twat, so maybe he has good bitch radar, but now I want to know who he is!”

Part of me feels like I should tell Gretchen it was Tim who she saw getting into the Jeep with those other guys. Not that I was stalking him or anything. I was merely watching to see how he got home. The baby kissing thing was a surprise though. Does he have a kid?

“Someone said he came from your hall. How did you not see him, Milah? I nearly had a seizure at the sight of his ass in those khakis. Who looks good in khakis? No one but this man. Milah, I can’t even with you. I’m so disappointed you didn’t see him wandering down your hall. I’m going to ask Cal about him during my free period.”

Okay. I guess I have to tell her. I don’t know why I don’t want to. It’s not like it’s a secret, but some part of me wants to keep onlookers away from Tim for a little while longer. At least until he feels more comfortable. I doubt Gretchen realizes he’s deaf. Martha probably doesn’t either. I’m sure he didn’t see that she was trying to speak to him. Tim doesn’t strike me as an asshole. He probably would have been clipped, but he would have been a gentleman about it and at least responded.

Fuck my life.

Sighing, I take a seat next to Gretchen who is now scrolling through the school’s directory searching for new names. “His name is Tim, and he’s been assigned to my classroom for the remainder of the year.”

Her phone falls onto the table while her mouth forms this perfect oval. “You little witch. You kept that man all to yourself yesterday!”

Just when I think she’s about to unleash on me, she squeals. “Oh my God, oh my God! Is. He. Single? You have to tell me!”

You know when you’re shopping and you see a pair of shoes that you could die for but you refrain because you just paid the power bill and the responsible thing to do is save up for those coveted pair of shoes? And so you leave, sans the shoes, feeling all responsible only to come into work the next day and see your friend with the same pair of shoes that you left sitting on the display. It’s this weird sensation that almost feels like jealousy, but not. Because you’re happy your friend has those cute pair of shoes and you have a paid-up power bill. But there’s also this little bitchy feeling like maybe you don’t want her to have your shoes that you already started a fund for.

I’m just saying, Tim is my pair of shoes. He’s not for sale, and I don’t want to find out if he’s single for Gretchen. And I should want to help Gretchen find a man. She’ll still be here at the end of the year when I’m back home in a whole other country.

But I don’t.

“I doubt he’s single,” I lie. Is it really a lie, though? I don’t know if he is or isn’t. Hot men like him don’t stay single. And what if the baby was his? Then he may have baby mama drama, and Gretchen doesn’t need that in her life. I’m really just looking out for her.

Gretchen’s smile morphs into a frown. “Really? You think he’s married?”

Ugh.

“I didn’t see a ring on his finger.” Ididlook for that.

“Eep! That means there is a chance!”

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