Mr. Young
"No, your music is not better than my music." I chuckled. "But I'm not about to keep having this debate with y'all. Back to To Kill A Mockingbird. Why do we think it was such a big deal that Atticus Finch defended a black man and do you think we still see racial issues like such today?"
I asked as I stood from my corner of my desk where I sat. That was the thing I liked best about teaching high school. Being able to converse freely with them and allow them to vent, then jump right back into my lesson.
Teaching wasn't necessarily the greatest profession, nor did it pay the most, but it was one of the most rewarding. I was able to say that I contributed to someone's success. Without my English class, they wouldn't move to the next grade and graduate, without their diploma they wouldn't go off to college and be exactly who they wanted to be. I may not be a doctor, lawyer, or scientist, but I did get to say I shaped a few so that when they go on interviews, and have presentations their grammar is up to par, their speech is good and they can write a well structured sentence. I took pride in that. The pay wasn't bad at all either. I never set out to be rich, I just wanted to make sure I could live comfortable and I did just that. Well, until I had unnecessary fees taken from me.
I was almost at a place where I wanted to just say fuck a restraining order, fuck a judge, fuck Cherise and go get my baby and deal with the consequences later. But I couldn't afford that. I couldn't afford to lose the little bit I had left. Plus, often riding past the house that was once my home, I noticed that it belonged to someone else. I had no idea where they could have gone.
But I couldn't think about that too much. Instead I focused on the Monday school day coming to an end. Often times, I'd stay after school for any reason I could while a lot of other teachers rushed home to their kids and families. I had nothing but time though, so I would hold tutoring sessions, times to make up tests and assignments or just be here if anyone just wanted to talk.
The end of the year was quickly approaching though, so the school emptied out quickly. I decided to take a quick shower, change out of my hot ass slacks and dress shirt and enjoy the day as best as I could.
I hadn't felt great in a long time, it was starting to feel at least one good thing was happening for me. As I walked to the empty parking lot hearing the crunch of the gravel under my feet, I reflected on the call I had gotten earlier in the day.
With the end of the year nearing, I had set out to find a summer job, one that wouldn't be hitting my check with child support payments so that I could at least get a one bedroom apartment and get my life back in order. Cherise would never take everything from me and get away with it. Once I was on my feet, I was out for blood.
Luckily for me, I was called and told that the job was mine. I almost cried, but I got on my knees and thanked the Lord instead.
My phone vibrated against my clammy palms pulling me away from my thoughts as I continued my slow travel to my car. The number was unrecognizable, but local, so I placed it to my ear and greeted the person on the other end.
"Hello?"
"Hi." The voice was soft, and just above a whisper. We hadn't spoken too much, but I knew who it was instantly.
"Well, good evening Mayweather."
She chuckled slightly before clearing her throat.
"Sorry about that. That was out of character." She continued in a hushed tone.
"You don't owe me anything." I told her. "I was only joking. What's up though? I know it must be a reason you used my number." I wondered, not trying to be rude, but trying to get to the point.
"Oh" she cleared her throat before chuckling nervously. "I kind of just um. I kind of just wanted to talk." She whispered yet again like a teenager sneaking to use the phone at night.
"Talk?" I asked a lot harsher than I meant to instantly hoping she wouldn't be offended, but I knew she was when she hung up the phone in my face.
