Page 107 of Napkins and Other Distractions
I leave with tears stinging my eyes, and head straight for my car. My feet move under me, but I’m unaware of the ground. Something crunches underfoot, stopping me in my tracks. Glancing down, I see the culprit. Almost unrecognizable, a muddy two-by-four blue brick stares up at me. Even covered in mud and grime, it’s the most perfect piece.
And then it hits me. All those first dates. All those men. It wasn’t them having an issue with me. Not the napkins. Not the wiping. It was me. I was always searching for a quick escape hatch—a way to dodge potential pain. But Paris fell. The implementation failed. Kent’s reaction. And I’m still here. Loving Kent Lester. And more importantly, finally loving myself. I need to find a way to fix this.
CHAPTER 36
Kent
“Kent, please reconsider.”
Every wrinkle and line on the pale skin of Florence Cutler’s face, a badge of honor from her almost forty years in education, emits empathy. This woman has a job I don’t envy. The buck stops with her, and every complaint and major decision lies on her shoulders. Calling the snow days alone would turn the few remaining dark hairs I have gray. No, thank you. She’s not buying what I’m selling, but I don’t relent.
“I recognize this doesn’t look good,” she says. “But maybe if I explain it was an honest mistake caused by an ancient system we’re trying to replace. Ms. Shaan could walk me through it. Provide screenshots. This was a simple mistake. Anyone who knows you realizes you’d never do this on purpose.” Francine pinches her lips together. “I can buy time with the board. We have a month until the next board meeting. It will cost the district … more, but they always have money tucked away. We’re starting over. We’ll have the accurate data in a few weeks. There’s more time to train teachers. I can spin this.”
Sitting across from Florence Cutler, my job—no, my career—on the line, I should cling to her words. She’s attempting to throw me a lifeline as I flail in open seas. I sigh at the weight of this failure on my shoulders. My breath catches in my chest, and when I open my mouth to speak, only a puff of air escapes.
“Let me do the talking at the board meeting,” Florence says. “I’m used to taking heat from them.”
My head shakes softly. If Vincent and I had never met before this mess, would the outcome be different? Perhaps. But I love him. I want him more than anything right now. I want this to be over.
“I think this is it,” I say. “For me. Here. I mean, after this school year.”
“Kent, no,” she says, putting her hand up.
“I’m going to offer my resignation to the board. I’ll have my letter to you by Thursday morning.”
“I’m not accepting it.” Francine’s jaw muscles firm into a rigid line.
I chuckle. Her stubbornness is part of why I’ve enjoyed working for her. The last few months with Vincent have shown me what a horrible job I’ve done with balancing work and life. Complete shit. Why do they call it work-life balance and not life-work balance? Why does “work” always come first? My first date in literally seven years. Since Corrine. I owe her an apology for being such a career-focused schmuck. When did life become so complicated?
“Well, you’ll have it. Thursday.”
I muster up my best smile for her and head back to my car. Back to Lear. I want Hopscotch to be a success. If the team needs me, I’ll be there for them. For Vincent. My heart thuds in my chest as I pull onto the road and return to school.
“What will you do now?” Gillian tucks her feet under her body, and Sweetums lies on her lap like a giant orange furry blanket.
“For work? To fill my time? To support myself?”
“Yes. All of it.”
“I’m not sure. I have some savings. Maybe bag groceries somewhere. Or stock shelves. I need health insurance until I’m fifty-five and can access the state program.”
“You can always come live with us.” Gillian rubs Sweetums’ chin.
“I’m not living with you. Yet. But thank you.” I lean over and kiss her forehead—my sweet angel.
“Don’t you think you should be there?”
“At the school board meeting?” I check my watch. “No. It’s already started. They’ll be doing their opening business. It’s over. Dr. Cutler will explain what happened.”
“I’ll go with you,” Gillian says. “Louis is on bedtime duty.”
“I’d rather not.” I swallow rapidly at the thought of standing before the school board and admitting what happened. No way. Vacation starts tomorrow—a week off. The board will have plenty of time to find my replacement before next year, and I can deal with the fallout and begin the transition process afterward.
“And what about him?” Gillian asks.
“Vincent?”
She nods, Sweetums’ purring providing a soothing soundtrack to our conversation.
