Page 11 of Hunt for the Roses
Kyle: Sounds perfect :)
Me: Kay, see you later. Love you.
Kyle: Love you too.
Not too long after I put my phone down, the bell rings to indicate that it is the next class period. I start to see some of my seventh graders flooding into my classroom, and I get up to turn the projector on to display their “Do Now” and “Agenda” for the day.
“Ms. Tate! You wanna see the new TikTok Kara and I just made?” Morgan says as she rushes into my personal space, waving her cell phone in front of me.
I chuckle as I respond. “Sure, why not.”
One of the many reasons I love my job. The randomness of my middle schoolers never ceases to amaze me or keep me on my toes. After I watch their fifteen second TikTok, I give my two cents. “Impressive. Hopefully you can keep that same energy during class today? Yeah?” I tease.
“Ms. Tate, we always bring our A-game to class. We’re your favorite students. In fact, you need to do a TikTok with us on the last day of school. Please?” Morgan asks.
I look upward with my hands on my hips, as if really contemplating, and then extend my hand out to shake Morgan’s hand. “Deal,” I say with a wide grin.
“Wait, really?!” Morgan exclaims with excitement.
I shrug like it’s no big deal. “Sure. But the only stipulation is that it’s appropriate.”
“I swear it’ll be appropriate! Oh my god, you’re the best teacher ever!” Morgan says before taking her seat.
Oh the simple things that make my students the happiest people ever.
* * *
It’s six o’clock, and I am placing the breaded chicken cutlets in the oven, along with the seasoned asparagus. Kyle should be home within the next half hour, so I pour two glasses of Cabernet, and start setting the table. While dinner is cooking in the oven, I pass time by taking out the load of laundry I put in the wash earlier, and hang specific clothes up on the drying rack. When I come back upstairs, I check on dinner periodically until it’s done, and I take the trays out of the oven to place them on trivets.
Figuring I still have some time left to kill, I take my glass of wine and sit on the couch in the living room to start flipping through Netflix. Once I spot that there is a new thriller movie in the “Top Ten” that looks semi-decent, I leave the movie highlighted on the screen, and scroll through social media on my phone until Kyle makes his appearance.
But before I know it, it’s seven o’clock. I look out the window behind the couch to see if Kyle’s car has pulled up or if he’s going to pull up any minute, but there is no sign of him at all. I decide to call Kyle, and after his phone rings for what feels like forever, I leave a voicemail message. “Hey, babe, just wanted to check in and see where you were. Me and dinner are waiting for you. Call me when you get this,” I say into the phone, then hang up.
I get up to serve the chicken cutlets and asparagus on plates, and place the plates on our dining room table. I start to rinse off the bakeware and pots I used to cook dinner, and load them into the dishwasher to save time after we eat. Afterwards, I resume my position on the living room couch to scroll through Instagram and TikTok again.
Before I know it, it’s now seven thirty, one hour after Kyle said he would be home and I still have not heard from him. Taking a sip of my wine, I look out the window behind the couch I’m sitting on to check to see if his car is outside.
Still nothing.
Maybe my voicemail from earlier didn’t go through or he overlooked my missed call. I put my wine glass down on the coffee table and try to call Kyle again. But once again, the phone just rings for what feels like an eternity until it goes to voicemail. I decide to leave another voicemail, then open my text message log with Kyle to type him a text as well.
Me: Everything okay? Call me when you get this.
It seems like I’m going to be waiting for some time, so I turn onFriendson HBO Max and watch a couple episodes in the meantime.
Another forty minutes pass by.
I look back out the window again.
Nothing.
Two hours after Kyle said he would be home, and I haven’t heard a single thing from him since this afternoon. I decide to pick up my phone again and call the person who may have heard from him.
After a few rings, Dane picks up on the other line. “Hey, what’s up?”
“Have you heard from Kyle?” I ask immediately.
Dane hesitates for a second, seemingly a little thrown off by the fact that I didn’t even greet him with a “Hello.” “No? Why?”
