Page 12 of Surviving the Break
Until me. “I’m sorry.” In trying to decipher him, I’d inadvertently been pressing on a wound. I mirrored his position with my forearms on the table, which brought our heads closer. “I hope this isn’t too forward of me—”
Max let out a chuff of air from the irony.
“—but there’s something to be said about living in the here and now. Not allowing your past to define your present.” I sat back. “It’s a beautiful day out today. Did you notice?”
He begrudgingly took in the leaves bristling on the trees from the afternoon’s cool breeze, the blue sky, which in Chadwick was a rare sight. I watched as these realized pleasures brought a mix of joy and shame to his pinched expression.
“If I look hard enough, I can find a million reasons to live in the shade. I find more glory in being in the sun.” My conviction rendered him speechless.
5
MAX
On one of our many adventures through the woods near Granddad’s farm, Hayden found a lone frog by the pond. Against my protests, he decided to keep it, even naming him Wilber.
He skipped back to the farm, giddy, with Wilber nestled between his cupped palms, and we’d turned an old fish tank into his home.
Hayden came over every day to hang with Wilber because his dad wasn’t “letting that thing” into the house. One day, he came by while Mom and I had gone to the pet store to buy Wilber food. I came home to find Hayden by the pond with a baby lizard in his hands and the mason jar we used to travel with Wilber sitting empty on its side in the grass.
“Where’s Wilber?!” I’d shouted, looking around frantically, lifting my feet to check the bottom of my soles to ensure I hadn’t squished him.
“Oh!” Hayden shot up, peering around wide-eyed. “Sorry.” His shoulders slumped but perked back up just as quickly. “But look what I found.” He opened his hands. “Her name is Lucy.”
Hayden didn’t maliciously allow Wilber to escape; he’d simply gotten distracted by something new and shiny. We’d found and lost a frog, a lizard, a turtle, and a baby chicken that summer.
Hayden never cherished his things. They were easily forgotten when something more exciting came along.
I thought myself the exception. Turned out I was part of the rule.
WE KEPTa schedule up on the lobby wall and on the website, but attending classes was always optional. Some days I arrived to two kids wanting to create something, and some days you couldn’t find an empty seat.
Every day I showed up to The Center in the weeks following my dinner with Ash, the schedule on the wall mocked me. How easy it would’ve been to make a few minor adjustments. Swap my Monday for Tuesday. Or switch my class time from six to five p.m. No one would care, but Ash would notice, and he’d know the reason for the upheaval. And he’d call me on it. Then I’d be forced to explain and tofeel.Because I never seemed to manage walking away from a conversation with Ash without feeling something.
There were several points during our conversation that I’d wanted to pull a bill from my wallet and chuck it at the table. I wanted to edge toward the end of my seat and stand. To say, “Have a good night.” Something in me urged me to. Instead, I gave up something.“Look, I went through a nasty breakup over a year ago.”I’d regretted those words ever since because his follow-up statement and his closing line caused me to drop my veil, and he’d noticed.
“That’s the third time I’ve caught you staring at the schedule,” Ash said. My whole body stiffened as his voice worked its way to my toes.
“Are you watching me now?”
His unruffled facade didn’t help my mood. “Our shifts are the same. It’s reasonable to assume that if you’re going to stand here gawking at something, I might catch you in the midst of your struggle.”
That was another thing, Ash was skilled in the art of double-meaning, clearly enjoying the game. And his boyish smile told me that he was in the mood to play.
“You’re exhausting. Has anyone ever told you that?” I headed down the hall, and he kept pace alongside me.
“Not while standing,” he said, tongue in cheek.
I came to a full stop, my lips twitching, because in spite of myself, he could sometimes be entertaining. “Did you just make a sex joke?”
He shrugged. “Is it a joke if it happens to be the truth?”
I had no answer for that, but the images that flashed before me were not helping my situation. “I’ve gotta go.” I entered my empty classroom.
“Will you let me take you out?”
“No,” I said over my shoulder.
He shot out his hand, preventing the door from closing. “Justin told me about the end-of-summer fundraiser. I thought I’d have the kids create medical survival kits to sell.”
