Authors: Meg Gray
The Teacher (17 page)
“There’s always next year,”
Marcus threw in before he thanked Gregory again for his advice on the construction
contract and ended the call.
He dialed the number to
Fitzpatrick and waited as he was connected to Ms. Hewitt’s extension.
“This is Ms. Hewitt.”
“Hi Emma, this is Marcus. I
have a message that you called. Is everything okay? Is Brayden okay? Did they
finish the testing already?” he rushed on, throwing out every question that had
drifted through his mind in the last two minutes.
“Everything is fine. Brayden
is in the gym. And no the testing is not complete, but that is what I wanted to
talk to you about. I was hoping you could help with something.” Marcus could
hear the smile in her voice and he pictured her there in her classroom sitting
at her desk amongst the piles of lovingly colored pictures from her greatest
admirers.
“Something with Brayden?”
“Yes,” she answered.
“Sure, what is it?”
“Well, Dave, the school
psychologist, remember him?”
“Yes, I do.” How could he
forget the man who wanted to
examine
Brayden?
“He came in today to take
Brayden to the counseling office to do some testing with him, but Brayden
wouldn’t go with him.”
“I see,” Marcus said,
wondering what it was she wanted him to do about this.
“Would you let Brayden know
that Dave will be back on Friday and that it’s okay for him to go with Dave?
I’ve noticed that he seems unsure of new people and I would’ve prepared him for
Dave today, but I didn’t know he was coming until he walked into the
classroom.”
“It’s not your fault.” Marcus
was quick to reassure her. “You’re right Brayden isn’t real keen on new people.
It’s no problem for me to talk to him. Is there anything else I can do?”
“No. Well actually,” she
hesitated. “I noticed on Monday when you walked Brayden into the classroom he
was much more at ease in the morning and joined in our activities sooner. I
know you’re busy, but if you have time on some mornings to walk him to class I
think it might help him transition a little better.”
“I think I could do that,”
Marcus said, his tone lightening with his smile, because bringing Brayden in
meant seeing Emma and she was turning out to be someone he enjoyed being around.
Post-traumatic Stress Disorder?PTSD?
Emotional disturbance,
it sounded so ugly and grotesque. But those were the words that would be attached
to Brayden’s permanent record forever. What school was going to take him now?
Certainly not Portland Private Academy, not with a label like that linked to
his name.
Marcus still couldn’t believe he checked
the box on that piece of paper agreeing that his son was emotionally disturbed.
There was a moment when he thought about refusing, jumping from his seat, and
declaring that he would fix his son by himself.
He had seen Emma watching him and
remembered how desperately he wanted someone to help him with his son. He
wanted someone to know his son the way he did—the good things about him—and
that was her. She knew Brayden probably better than he did by now and if she
agreed this was the best thing for Brayden, then he would too. And just like
that he checked a little box saying his son needed help, special education
services.
P-T-S-D,
he drew the letters out in his mind again, separating them and trying to fit
them back together. Were these pieces to the puzzle that completed Brayden? By
making this discovery, would their lives begin to change? Was this the answer?
Dave, the psychologist, insisted it was.
He mentioned the fire again and Marcus still couldn’t believe Brayden would
remember it.
Starting next week, Dave would see
Brayden twice a week for thirty minutes and his services would extend through
the summer. Dave was optimistic that once Brayden started to heal emotionally
his academics and social relationships would improve.
Marcus paused in the threshold of the
gymnasium door and saw Brayden sitting alone in the far corner bouncing a
little rubber ball, while the other children ran and played without a care in
the world.
* * *
“Hi, Ms. Hewitt,” Brayden said, walking
into his classroom, Marcus right behind him. All the other specialists were
gone. It was just him, Brayden and Emma meeting for their conference.
“Hello, Brayden. It’s nice
to see you again,” she said and Brayden beamed at her. They sat at the odd
shaped table, it looked like a C. Emma pulled out Brayden’s latest progress
report. She handed Brayden a file folder with his name printed on the tab with
a black marker. “Go ahead and show your dad your work,” she said.
Brayden looked up at her
from under his long curling lashes and she nodded encouraging him. He opened
the folder and looked at the first page, a piece of copy paper with two rows of
twelve squares stretched across the page. The squares were neatly colored in a
variety of random colors. Marcus leaned over in his chair to look at the paper
with Brayden.
“What’s this?” he asked his
son.
“We were coloring the
blocks,” Brayden answered.
“It is a patterning
assessment,” Emma broke in. “The students built patterns with the blocks and
then transferred them to their papers.”
Marcus quickly made the
connection that Brayden hadn’t mastered the concept yet. He returned his
attention to the folder on the table and Brayden turned to the next page, a
grid of one hundred squares. Brayden had started his numbering in the first
square on the left and continued to number seven. The eight looked like it had
been difficult for him to form in the square. His frustration apparent on the
page by the way he had raked his pencil down to the bottom left corner and then
zigzagged back up to the top. The page was partially crumpled.
“Brayden did a great job of
writing these numbers,” Emma said, reaching across the table and pointing to
one through seven. “He had a little trouble with the eight, but that’s the
tricky one and we’re still working on it.” She smiled at Brayden and never
mentioned the apparent breakdown he had in not completing the assessment. It
was the same throughout the entire folder. His projects were carefully colored,
but ripped through with the scissors and pieces were glued haphazardly to a
page.
Marcus said nothing as they
shuffled through the pages of the folder.
Lastly, Brayden turned the
pages of his writing journal showing off his beautifully detailed drawings. A
drawing with a firefighter and a baby, surfaced three different times and each
time Marcus felt Emma glance at him.
When they were through all
of Brayden’s work, Emma passed Marcus a copy of Brayden’s progress report,
which was marked mostly with
N’s
citing his need for improvement in all
academic areas.
Marcus was thankful Emma
didn’t pour salt into his open wounds. If he’d held out any hope that his son’s
needs weren’t as great as everyone else was trying to tell him, then he’d just
gotten the message. He could see the whole picture now, the one he’d been
trying to ignore.
“Do you have any questions?”
she asked.
Marcus shook his head and
Emma pulled the file back in front of her. She reached for a pile of colored
papers and passed the top one to Marcus. “This is from the librarian, Ms.
Simmons,” Emma explained. “She is kicking off a Spring Reading Program before
the summer begins. She wants to get kids in the habit before school lets out.
Each time you and Brayden read a book together just write the title down on
these lines and initial it. When all of the lines are filled up Brayden can
bring it back and his name will be entered into a drawing for the end of the
year and he can start tracking on another piece of paper. Ms. Simmons has found
that a number of our families here at Fitzpatrick are not reading together
daily.”
A thread of guilt weaved
into Marcus’s mind as he placed himself in this group. Without skipping a beat,
Emma pulled out the next page, a yellow note.
“Here are some helpful
suggestions,” she said, passing the paper to him. “On how to incorporate
reading and early literacy practices into your daily activities.”
Marcus scanned the page and
nodded. Brayden began to squirm in his chair and Marcus reached over to ruffle
his son’s hair. “Finally,” Emma said, passing a green paper to Marcus. “This is
the permission slip for our field trip to the zoo in two weeks.”
Brayden’s eyes lit up. He
peered over at the paper trying to read the words on his own.
“I just need your permission
and signature for Brayden to attend. He will need to bring a sack lunch and
dress for the weather, because we are going rain or shine,” she said. “And we
are taking any and all parent volunteers that would like to accompany us.” She
smiled.
“Can you come Dad?” Brayden
asked.
“I don’t know, Bray,” Marcus
replied, ruffling Brayden’s hair again. “I probably have to work that day.”
Brayden’s chest deflated as he sat back in his chair. Marcus signed the
permission slip.
“Ms. Hewitt, can I go to
the bathroom?” Brayden asked and she turned to look at him.
“Of course you can,” she
said and he hopped from the chair, hurrying down the hall to the boy’s
restroom.
“I haven’t done much right
for my son have I?” Marcus said, not really asking a question. He was thankful
when she didn’t answer him, probably because he was afraid she’d agree. “I bet
you wouldn’t believe me if I said I really thought I was doing the best I
could, would you?”
“Of course I would,” Emma said,
answering him now. “I can only imagine the magnitude of what you and Brayden
have gone through. It couldn’t have been easy for you, either of you, and now
you’re looking at getting some help. You’re doing a good thing for him.”
“I hope so,” Marcus breathed
out with a sigh and sat up in his chair leaning his arms on the edge of the
table. He folded his hands together. His face turned serious, “I wish I was
better at this, you know, being a father, taking care of Brayden. I wish I knew
how to make everything okay for him. Some days I just want to reach for a
manual that tells me exactly what to do and what he needs, but there isn’t one
is there?” He didn’t know why he was telling her this. Maybe because for so
long he had wanted to tell someone—someone that understood Brayden. He had been
alone in his corner for way too long.
“All he needs is to know
he’s loved,” she replied with such simplicity.
“If only it were that easy,”
Marcus said, leaning back and shaking his head.
“I think it is,” Emma
shrugged. “Just by being here you’re showing him he’s important to you and that
counts for a lot.”
Her eyes were soft and he
couldn’t believe he’d ever seen this woman as his enemy.
“Thank you for all you’ve
done,” Marcus said, feeling his voice turn raspy.
“I haven’t done anything
more than my job,” Emma said humbly.
“No, you’ve done a great
deal more than that. Thank you,” he said again. His eyes locked with hers and
he held them, for the first time in a long time he was feeling connected to
someone. She nodded as Brayden bounded back into the classroom breaking their
connection. She stood up with the file.
Marcus picked up his cell
phone and scrolled through his calendar with his thumb.
“Hey, Bray, you know what?”
Marcus asked.
“What Dad?”
“It looks like I’m free on
the day of your zoo trip. I think I’ll go with you.”
“Really?”
“Really,” he said, typing
the date into his calendar.
Emma listened as Naomi
recounted the thrill of seeing the penguins slide into the water and the
enormity of the polar bear’s paw. The girl hardly took a breath and Emma
delighted in her enthusiasm. Most of the children had finished their lunch and
were venturing back out to see more exhibits at the zoo. Naomi’s grandmother
pulled on her arm to coax her away from Emma’s bended ear.
When they were off, Emma
glanced over her shoulder and saw Marcus pulling Brayden behind him as they
hurried to the group’s meeting place near the entrance of the zoo. She reached
her hand up in the air and waved. Marcus caught sight of her and came right
over.
“I’m so sorry we’re late,”
he said.
“Don’t worry about it,” Emma
said. “There’s more room to sit now anyway. Your lunches are in there.” She
pointed to the box on the table next to them. Marcus turned his back to dig their
lunches out from under all the empty insulated lunch bags.
“Hi Donald,” Brayden said,
sliding onto the bench across from Emma. Donald sat next to her finishing his
lunch while Sandy took a break and used the restroom.
“Hi.” Donald cocked his head
and smiled at his friend. Marcus slid onto the bench next to Brayden. He looked
at Donald who was fishing out another chip from his bag.
“Brayden, do you think you
can introduce your dad to your friend?” Emma prompted.
Brayden, about to bite into
his sandwich, paused. “Dad, this is Donald.”
“Hello Donald,” Marcus said
and reached his hand across the table. Hearing his name Donald looked up and
sucked the artificial orange cheese from his fingers before shaking Marcus’s
hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Marcus said and shook hands without
flinching.
Emma covered her smile and
reached for her bottle of hand sanitizer. She pumped two squirts of the gel
discreetly into Marcus’s hands. He rubbed them together under the table
removing any germs that had passed from Donald’s spit-cleaned fingers. He
smiled his thanks to her and picked up his sandwich.
“So what have you seen so
far?” Emma asked, directing her question to Brayden, whose mouth was busy
chewing.
“We’ve covered a lot already,”
Marcus answered for him. “We’re planning to see the elephants and polar bears
after lunch.”
“Have a lot of the animals
been out, so you could see them?”
“Yeah, they have,” Marcus
answered her again.
“We really lucked out with
the weather. It’s cool enough for the animals to want to be out and we haven’t
had a drop of rain yet.”
“It really is a perfect day
for the zoo,” Marcus agreed. “Not too hot and not too cold.”
Sandy reappeared. “Are you
about finished there, Donald?” she asked and Donald turned giving her his full
toothed smile, the one that was so big it made his eyes squint closed.
“Well, is that a yes or a
no?” she asked and he just smiled again.
Sandy plopped down next to
him. “Mrs. Jennings, this is Brayden’s father, Mr. Lewis,” Emma said. Sandy
smiled and Marcus nodded in her direction.
Donald finished his chips and
zipped up his green dinosaur lunch bag. “Ready,” he announced to Sandy. They
both stood and Donald walked around behind Emma to drop his bag back into the
box. Brayden shoved the last bite of his chocolate frosted brownie into his
mouth.
“I’m done too,” he said,
crumbs escaping from the corner of his mouth. “Let’s go Dad.”
“Wait a second,” Marcus told
him. “I haven’t finished my sandwich yet and you didn’t touch your carrot
salad.”
Brayden looked at his father
like shredded carrots were the last thing he dreamed of eating. Emma tried to
conceal her smile as Brayden turned up his nose at the vegetable.
“If he’s finished he’s more
than welcome to join us while you finish your lunch,” Sandy said to Marcus.
Brayden looked expectantly
at his father, “You wouldn’t mind?” Marcus asked.
“Not at all,” she reassured
him.
Brayden jumped up to join
Sandy and Donald. The three were walking away when Marcus shouted, “I’ll meet
you at the elephants.”
Marcus turned back around in
his seat and smiled at Emma, “Brayden is really enjoying himself today, thanks
for arranging this field trip.”
“Don’t thank me,” she said.
“It’s all part of the kindergarten curriculum. It wraps up our unit on animal
habitats. And Mary Ellen is the one who made all the arrangements for our
classes.”
“Well, it’s been fun. I used
to love field trip days in school. It must be fun for you to bring them all
here.”
“Oh no,” Emma said, shaking
her head. “I hate field trip days. I’m nervous all day long, hoping that
everyone stays safe and gets back to school okay. We heard horror stories in
college about kids being left behind or lost on field trips. I’m just glad I have
so many parent volunteers. Most children are accompanied by their own parent.
But I still worry that something could happen. I’ll be glad when today is
over.”
Marcus took a bite of his
sandwich and watched Emma as she talked. Then he shook his head, “How do you do
it?” he asked.
“Do what?” she asked.
“Be with these kids all day
long, I mean, that bus ride over was crazy loud and the kids were off the wall.
It was complete chaos. How do you do it every day? I was about to go insane.”
Emma smiled. The kids showed
off their enthusiasm this morning through their bouncing bodies and loud
voices. “I don’t know,” she shrugged, “I guess I like to think of it as
controlled chaos. Today they are exceptionally excited. They aren’t usually
this rambunctious. Just wait for the bus ride home, though, it won’t be nearly
as loud as the trip here.”
Marcus scraped the last bits
of carrot from his Tupperware container when he reached for Brayden’s. He
caught Emma watching him and pushed it toward her. “You want some?” he asked.
“No, I’ve already eaten my
lunch, but it does look good. What’s in there?”
Marcus shrugged, opening the
lid to the container. “Carrots, raisins and some kind of dressing I guess. I
can’t say for sure, my housekeeper makes it, but it is delicious.”
“Mmm,” Emma said, nodding. “It
almost looks as good as that.” Marcus had just pulled out a brownie identical
to the one Brayden had eaten.
“Here,” Marcus said, tearing
the brownie in half.
“No, I couldn’t,” Emma said.
“Please,” Marcus smiled at
her. “Take it. I won’t be able to sit here in front of you and eat this, please
take half.”
“Okay,” Emma said without
any more encouragement and bit into the rich frosting top and sinfully thick
brownie. “This is incredible,” Emma said.
Marcus only smiled while
biting into his own brownie.
“Do you think I could get
the recipe from her?” Emma asked.
A line creased across
Marcus’s forehead. “I don’t know,” he said. “I don’t think I have ever seen
Rosa crack open a recipe book in all the years I have known her.”
“Really?” Emma said, licking
the frosting from her fingers. “How long has she worked for you?”
“For me, just since Brayden
was born, but she started working for my family before I was born. I have known
Rosa my whole life.”
“Hey Emma,” Susan said,
approaching their table and interrupting their conversation.
“Hi Susan,” Emma said.
“I’m getting ready to carry
my boxes back out to the buses. Do you want to walk together?” Susan reached
her arms behind her settling them in the small of her back, which must be
aching again. Her rounded stomach looked like a basketball tucked under her
shirt.
“Sure,” Emma said, starting
to get up.
“Wait,” Marcus said stopping
her. “I’ll do it.” He turned to Susan, “You don’t look like you need to be
carrying anything right now. You two sit back and I’ll take care of the boxes.”
“That would be fantastic,”
Susan said, rubbing her protruding belly.
Marcus returned the cold
packs and Tupperware containers to his and Brayden’s paper bags before climbing
out of the picnic table and placing them in the box. The sun had broken away
from the clouds and warmed the spring air. The threat of rain seemed to have
passed for the moment. As Marcus shed his windbreaker, pulling it over his head,
Emma caught a glimpse of his flat abs and the trickle of hair leading from his
navel to below his belt. She looked away, embarrassed about the way the sight
of his flesh had excited her. Then, she remembered Stacy’s words again, “You
need to get laid.” Maybe she did, maybe then her pulse wouldn’t quicken at the
sight of this man’s—of this father of her student’s— incredibly well defined
abs.
“We were on bus twelve,”
Emma said to Marcus as he lifted the brown box labeled “Hewitt.”
“And we were on eight, I
think,” Susan said. “But it doesn’t matter we can sort them out back at school
if they get mixed up.” She smiled and giggled as Marcus went off to collect her
box labeled “Reed.” When he was out of earshot, Susan turned to Emma.
“Oh my gosh, he’s so
dreamy,” Susan said, dropping down backwards on the bench next to her.
“Susan,” Emma said in mock
reprimand. “You are a married woman.”
“I know.” She used a hand to
fan herself. “I think it’s these hormones. I couldn’t stop staring at the guy
pumping my gas last night. But that guy,” Susan tossed her head in Marcus’s
direction. “Ooh, he’s nice. I’m glad to see that chivalry isn’t completely
dead. Who’s he with anyway?”
“That’s Brayden’s dad,” Emma
told her.
Susan shot her a look of
disbelief and dropped her jaw, “No way.”
“Yes way,” Emma said,
imitating her kindergartners.
“Huh?” Susan said, “Not what
I would have expected at all.”