Page 50 of Husband of the Year
“Fair. Very fair,” I say. “Well, I’m here for you. Always. I better get myself ready for the day. See you at lunch.”
Monday mornings are always a reentry in kindergarten. Even after a regular weekend, being away for two days can throw some kids off.
When Marley comes down the hallway looking like someone stole his favorite stuffy, I sense a little extra TLC may be in order.
“Morning, Marley. Happy Monday to you!” I give him my biggest smile, hoping it helps his downcast face.
He lifts his head just enough so his giant brown eyes peer into my soul. Something’s got Marley down.
Kneeling, I put my hands out, and he takes them.
“What’s up, buddy?” I ask.
He lets out a tremendous sigh. The aroma of his breakfast blows over me—something magically delicious.
“My mommy is away.”
That’ll do it.
“Oh. Where is she?”
“On a work trip. For the entire week.”
Now, a week isn’t that long. If Olan told me he’d be back on Friday, I’d be over the moon. But I’m not five. And he’s not my parent.
“I’m so sorry, Marley. I can tell how tough that is for you. Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Maybe a hug?”
“Now that I can do.”
Marley wraps his arms around me. His orange puffy coat cushions against my neck as he squeezes and lets out a tiny groan from the exertion of hugging his kindergarten teacher. There’s a lot wrong in the world, and hugs might not solve everything, but they’re a good place to start.
Our embrace doesn’t solve Marley’s problem. His mom is still away for the week. But he knows he’s got me in his corner and if he needs a little extra attention this week, Mr. Block will be more than happy to provide it. And if focusing on Marley and the rest of my students helps me forget how much I’m missing Olan, that’s simply icing on the cake.
“That burrito looks like it’s seen better days.” At one of my tables, Jill sits across from me, her face flushed from the steam rising off her leftover lasagna.
“I mean, it’s been in the freezer for… ever? I’m sure if there was an expiration date on it, I’d be second-guessing eating it.” I poke at the stiff tortilla. “I’m not sure if the microwave heated it up or simply pushed it along its way to complete fossilization.”
“Want some lasagna?” Jill holds up her plastic container. It smells amazing.
“No thanks. I’ll just eat the insides.” I pry the tortilla away to revealthe remnants of what once was supposed to be tofu, cheese, and some unidentifiable vegetables. My fork brings a bite up to my mouth and something smells off.
“Maybe I’ll just have an energy bar. I bought some new ones. They have tons of protein, but are supposed to taste like fudgy brownies.”
“Suit yourself,” Jill says as I open the bottom drawer of the filing cabinet where I stash emergency snacks.
I retrieve a bar, unwrap it, and take a bite. The chocolate flavor fills my mouth, but the consistency is all wrong. It’s less like eating fudge and more like munching on an old gym sock.
“What’s the verdict?” Jill asks with a raised eyebrow.
“Thoughtful, but dry,” I manage to say, grabbing my water bottle.
A text flashes across my phone on the table and my heart skips, hoping it’s Olan.
“Awe, he misses you,” Jill says. “I remember those days.”
“No, it’s my mom.”
