Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 71967 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71967 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
“Luci!” He reaches out, but I back away.
“What’s there to say?” I grasp onto myself tightly, trying to control the pain and tears.
“At least let me explain.” How dare he look so hurt, after what he’s done!
“Is there something to explain?” I prop myself against a nearby locker, righting my stance. “I mean, it seems pretty self explanatory. You’re married and your wife is about to have a baby.”
“Please, not out here.” His looks around, begging for me to follow him somewhere private, but I start walking the opposite way.
“I also have your report card,” he calls after me and I stop. “They did an eighth period hand out this year. You weren’t here when I gave them out.”
“I’m sure you can mail it.”
“I know I don’t deserve this, but please, let me just say what I have to,” he implores. “Then never have to talk to me ever again if you don’t want to.”
I hesitate at the never ever, the finality of things.
The next step I take is towards his office.
“Thank you,” he breathes.
“You have five minutes,” I spit. “That’s all.”
I focus on the floor as he rustles through the papers on his desk. This room has too many memories, and I’ve already been hit with enough for today. There is a pile of yearbooks in the corner, waiting to be signed. One lays open, full of well wishes from his or her friends. I’ll always remember senior year!, someone writes.
I’ll try to forget.
Hopefully one day I will.
Maybe one day I’ll live again, because right now I’m only existing, and existing is looking in the eyes of your soul mate as he hands you your report card.
“You lied,” I take paper from him. “After everything.”
“It’s complicated,” he shakes his head.
“Why?” I put my hands up. “It’s seems straight forward. You have a wife. You’re about to become a Dad. Does anything else matter?”
“None of that changes how I feel about you.”
How can he say that? How dare he say that!
“You’re a cheater,” I accuse. “You used me.”
“I’m not, and I didn’t,” he swears. “I filed for divorce at the end of last summer-”
“I don’t believe you,” I interrupt.
“Sit down,” he pleads, pulling out a chair.
I take a different seat, standing by my five minutes, wanting to just look at him one more time, in this very room. He falters, not believing I’d actually sit without hassle.
“I met with a lawyer in August and I can prove it if you’d like.”
I roll my eyes. Of course, he has a whole story, like I’m supposed to believe anything he says now.
“Luci, when you walked through my door in September I felt like the sickest person alive,” his face is full of disgust. “The way I wanted you, one of my students!”
“Sorry to be such a burden,” I mumble.
“I started seeing her again, because I felt so twisted. I had to do something to take my mind off you,” he sighs. “Yes, it was wrong of me to lead her on, and she knew damn well I was filing for divorce, but shit, I was desperate to try anything. I had to get you out of my head. I thought if I tried to refocus on her I could stop the feelings I had for you.”
“I even had the paperwork to transfer you into another class all ready to go,” he shakes his head. “But I couldn’t do it. I’d rather torture myself seeing you everyday than never see you again, to never look or talk to you again.” His eyes water as he looks into mine. “You were everywhere, my own, personal, beautiful torment.”
I look away as he continues.
“I’ll never forget the look on your face when you saw me, and I’ll always remember the day I realized you wanted me too. I couldn’t believe it, and it destroyed me,” he swallows. “So I started fucking her again. I needed something other than my own hand to make you feel real. It wasn’t ever her I was with; it was you. Always you. I’d close my eyes and see your face.”
A single tear runs down my cheek as I open my mouth to stop him, not wanting to hear anymore, but nothing except air comes out.
“When you and I kissed, I thought maybe if I just got it out of my system I could get past it,” he says, as wetness forms along the rims of his red eyes. “I knew it was just an excuse. I was done from the moment I saw you, and destroyed the minute we touched. That night, I called her. Told her we were over, for real this time. Nothing could compare to you,” he pauses, offering me a sad smile. “A few weeks later, she called, said she’s pregnant-”
“You said I was the only one you never used a condom with!” I shout.