Page 101 of Husband of the Year
“I don’t think he’s having second thoughts.” With a deep inhale, my stomach expands. “He just doesn’t seem that into it.”
“The wedding or getting married?” Jill asks. “Because they are not the same thing.”
“The wedding. I think? Wait, what do you mean?”
Jill smiles and pulls her chair in closer, leaning her arms on the table. “A huge, expensive, intricate wedding a marriage does not make. People elope. Las Vegas has built an entire tourist industry around it.”
“But he seemed so into it…”
“B.B.” Jill sits up and cocks her head. “Before baby. Everything’s different now. You better talk to him. Soon.”
I head to my classroom, wondering if Jill might be on to something. Maybe with all the changes, with our additional responsibilities and busier schedule, with all Olan has going on not only with Greggie but helping his brother, and his parents, keeping his family afloat from halfway across the country, maybe he’s changed his mind. My anxiety kicks up a notch and I immediately remind myself, Olan loves me. He’s told me he can’t wait for us to be married. Many times. Why am I so eager to fall back into a worry loop?
One thing Jill is right about for sure: I need to talk to Olan. Soon.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
“That’s right, disappointed is a really strong feeling word,” I reply to Amanda. “Why do you think the mouse is disappointed?”
I hold the book up and point to the page where the little mouse sits with her face in her hands.
“She wanted to play in the big hockey game,” Amanda says.
“With her friends.” Eddie pops up on his knees, but he’s in the back row, so I don’t ask him to sit.
“And she hurt her foot, so she can’t.” There’s a melancholic tone in Katherine’s voice.
“Right, so how is disappointed different from sad?” I ask. We’ve talked a lot about ranges of emotions and using more precise language, and Amanda recognized the opportunity, so I know they’re grasping this concept.
“It’s like you’re sad,” Ben says. “But really, really sad.”
“Like a sad sandwich.” Danny’s face lights up. “Take sad bread and add sad meat and sad mustard.”
A few of the other students look confused, not quite following Danny’s sandwich metaphor.
“You’re on the right track,” I say, hoping someone else can give a more succinct answer.
Austin’s hand tentatively goes up and everyone turns toward him. I nod quickly, urging him to speak.
“When you want something and you can’t have it, you might feel sad,” he says. “But if you’ve been waiting a really long time and hoping and wishing and then you don’t get it, that’s more than sad.”
“Exactly. You’re disappointed,” I say. “Nice work, friends. Unpacking complicated emotions can be challenging. But when you consider sadness or happiness as the core of these other emotions,” I explain, gesturing toward our chart, “you see how we can effectively express the feelings of our characters or ourselves more clearly.”
When I return from walking the last pickups to the cafegymatorium, Illona’s sitting on the floor, writing in her journal, waiting for me. It was her first weekend with Isabella since Greggie came home and somehow my heart missed her more than usual. Despite the chaos of taking care of a baby and the drastic shift in our weekend, I can’t help but feel a void in my heart when Illona is with her mother.
“There you are.” I plop down next to her and without pausing her writing, she wraps her free arm around me as I hug her.
“How was your day? Wait, your weekend? Did you have a snack? I have some crackers in the cabinet. Maybe some fruit snacks? How are you?” The words tumble out of my mouth, but Illona doesn’t seem fazed. She understands me well.
“Day was okay. Frankie Sanderson told me he has a crush on Andrea Sterling.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you liked him.”
“Ew. Gross. I don’t. Mrs. Day has to remind him to wash his hands after the bathroom.”
“Oh. Then what’s the issue?”
“Andrea likes Ricky Shroeder. Anyway, I don’t really care, it was just kind of annoying. I told Frankie he should keep that information to himself.”
