My mom and I spent a delightful evening on the couch watching movies and stuffing ourselves with pizza.
We've never been capable of 'girl talk' like typical moms and daughters on TV, but I think I understand why.
For as long as I can remember, my mom's been fighting other demons. Her sobriety is a daily physical and mental struggle. It's hard for anyone outside of our situation to understand what she's going through, but she has to take things day by day.
Essentially, just because she has a bad day doesn't mean that she's a bad mom.
It's most important to remember that we all have day days, and none of that equals a bad life.
What matters is how you show up for the people that matter to you, and I want to be there for my mom. How she copes with the highs and lows of her life, however, is literally a life-or-death decision.
Over the next few weeks, life pretty much went back to normal. I worked my shifts at the diner, I went to school, and I spent as much time as I could with my mom.
Even more exciting is the fact that my mom seemed to be doing better, too.
She was going to meetings with her counselor Tom and she was throwing herself into searching for a part-time job.
My mom hadn't landed any interviews, but she told me that she was getting more comfortable with the process, which sounded hopeful.
Keira and I found time to hang out, too.
We managed to schedule a coffee chat on campus where we found out that Keira and I had tons in common. Turns out, Keira had a very similar history to Keri and she was a fan of vintage fashion (like me).
Just like my bestie, Keira was a single mom to an adorable little boy. Plus she knew all the best second-hand stores in Auburn, which made her the best shopping partner alive for vintage fashion.
So, we all started getting together at least once a week. We always chose local parks and we looked for a space with a playset, preferably with monkey bars and a swingset because that's what the boys preferred.
Joey and Markus attended different preschools in Auburn, but they were becoming fast friends thanks to our weekly playdates.
All the while, Rory kept up his silly texting barrage.
It was pretty obvious that he was using Keri's health scare as an excuse to hit on me or to ask me out. I ignored his silly texts, of course, but the sheer volume of his communications was alarming.
In my opinion, Rory is a self-absorbed jerk that probably thought his persistence was cute.
Spoiler alert, that couldn't be further from the truth.
It really freaked me out that someone at Boondocks (maybe even one of Rory's douchey friends) could have slipped something in Keri's drink. No amount of pithy remarks could make up for something as serious as a potential sexual assault.
I saw Mr. Benedict in class, of course, but I made sure that we didn't speak much.
He lectured and I listened.
Over the weekend, I rewrote my paper and made sure to follow his syllabus (to the letter).
Every so often, I'd catch Mr. Benedict looking at me in the middle of a lecture like he was trying to understand what happened between us.
Honestly, I was too.
I cried in front of him and walked out on our talk, so I couldn't blame him.
I really appreciated my teacher's supportive words and his suggestions for my education, but I had enough going on in my life.
My grades were stellar and I was on track to graduate with my AA. That's what was most important.
Sure, there's more to me avoiding Mr. Benedict than his piteous glances. Every time I get close to him, my whole body heats up and those silly butterflies swarm my stomach.
His magnetic blue eyes and Hollywood looks aside, there's something about Mr. Benedict that intrigues me.
Maybe it's his literary jokes or his self-deprecating sense of humor, or maybe it's his worldly intelligence at such a young age. Whatever the reason, I was just a silly schoolgirl with a crush on my teacher.
Mr. Benedict was perfectly comfortable with himself and his understated charisma made me want to lean in and ask more questions, that's all.
Though, sometimes when our eyes meet, I swear, it's like he saw into the depths of my soul (as cheesy as that sounds). Like he somehow understood all of the shame and pain and rejection that I've internalized over the years.
It was so intimidating sometimes that I had to look away. So, instead, I kept my head down.
I powered ahead in Mr. Benedict's syllabus because I was about to miss an upcoming class in order to help Mrs. Gotlieb.
Like the goodie-two-shoes I am, I planned on handing in my next assigment, early.
I wasn't going to be in his class that coming Friday (the day that it was due), but Mr. Benedict didn't need to know that.
So, at the very end of class on Wednesday, I made my way to the front to hand in my work early.
Mr. Benedict noticed me cutting through the crowd and raised his brow at my approach.
I'd been ignoring him for almost a week, so I offered a tense smile to let him know that I come in peace.
It didn't seem to be working.
"Ms. Stavros," there was a hint of surprise in his otherwise apathetic tone. "What can I do for you tonight?"
"I'm just handing in my homework," I told him as I set the papers on his desk.
"Oh?" He seemed mildly amused.
"Yup," I back away from the woodsy undertones of his expensive cologne (because it had a habit of messing with my mind). "So, thank you."
"Thank you," he offered a terse smile.
"Um," I felt a little deflated at his icy response, but it was probably necessary. "You know, I meant to apologize for my behavior at the diner, but-"
"No need, Moira," Mr. Benedict interjected, cutting me off a second time. "I was butting in where I wasn't welcome."
I blinked and stood there, unsure of what to say or how to fix what I'd done.
Mr. Benedict's tone was almost cool, but his eyes tell a different story. They were alight with curiosity as if he was trying to work out what my deal was.
"Well," I sighed and turned around to walk away. "I should go."
I got about halfway up the steps before he cleared his throat and shuffled the papers at his podium.
Spontaneous heat set my skin on fire until I was tingling all over with unspoken frustration at my own bratty behavior.
Since there was no one left to listen, I turned abruptly.
Startled by my sudden movement, Mr. Benedict looked up into my eyes.
"Just so you know, you weren't butting in," my voice is a little higher than I would have liked as I headed toward him. "I wanted to talk to you, Will. I wanted to tell you why I'm stuck at home for the foreseeable future, but I can't."
Mr. Benedict opens his mouth to say something, but it stretches into a genuine smile instead.
So I went on, "You said you understood having a secret you can't tell anyone? Then, you know that kind of stuff takes time to talk about. When people hear about my life, they automatically feel sorry for me, or they think I'm lying for sympathy, or they get weird. Even worse, they treat me differently because they're afraid that I'm somehow going to break under the pressures of life. Just so you know, it's taken me a little longer than most people, but I've got goals and I don't break under pressure."
Mr. Benedict regards me with interest, his posture relaxing and his eyes burning with a new sort of light that I couldn't quite read.
"Goodnight, Mr. Benedict," my cheeks flushed with a heat that should've scorched me to ashes.
Then, I spun around and jogged out the door, unwilling to look back at the gorgeous man who made me so incredibly nervous and comfortable at the same time.