Rewriting History

Inside, I’m dying. Senior History? The rest of the year teaching Jill?

I’m annoyed, and I have no idea who my anger is directed at. Am I annoyed at my father for getting sick? Or myself for falling for a student? All my life I swore I’d never be like him. It was the one thing I could pride myself on—that I was a better man than my father. Until now.

“Great. We’ll discuss the details after break. You may go now.”

I stand up with more force that I intended, my chair sliding across the floor and into the table behind me. I mumble a goodbye and walk toward the door, not looking at my father.

***

“Afternoon, Mr. Anderson.”

I glance around and smile at the girls who have scattered about my desk. They giggle and whisper, and I don’t even want to think about what they’re saying. I know the stir my presence has caused among the females here, and I’m glad Jill is not in this class. I could only imagine how she’d feel seeing these girls all but throw themselves at me.

Of the four classes I teach, this one is the worst. I swear, half the class is only there to ogle me, and I am constantly being asked to explain things in greater detail. I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve been asked about private tutoring.

Enrollment for second-semester Junior History has more than doubled since it was announced I’d be teaching the class—all female. I can only imagine the uproar my staying in the senior department is going to cause.

“Afternoon, girls. I hope you’re ready for the midterm,” I say, raising my eyebrows.

“Ready as I’m gonna be,” the girl I know as Dana laughs. “What are your plans for Christmas, Mr. Anderson?”

I ignore the way she’s leaning on the desk, subtly hitching the hem of her skirt up.

“No plans,” I say, my eyes fixed on hers.

Teaching high school kids is lethal, especially when they’re female. My students are seventeen and eighteen, and I’m sure many of them see me as a challenge. I never wanted to teach high school, but when I heard that Dad was sick, I felt obliged to help out in some way. This position gave me the chance to stay in Denver, and be close to Jill.

Of course, at that stage I didn’t realize she was a student.

My real career goal is to teach Ancient History at college level, but positions like that are hard to find. A major in history doesn’t exactly leave you with multiple job prospects. At the moment, I need to take what I can get until I build some experience.

“Okay, guys, in your seats. Let’s get this exam underway, okay?”

Groans fill the air, but the students slowly shuffle their way to their seats and sit down. I run through the rules and hand out the papers, announcing that it’s time to start.

The rest of the day flies by as I’m distracted by thoughts of my father, Jill, and what the fuck I’m going to do. I can’t be her teacher and be with her. It might not seem like much of a jump to go from being a substitute teacher to her teacher, but for me it is.

I’ve already broken so many of my own rules lately that I almost don’t know who I am anymore.

***

Arriving home, I get inside and immediately call Mel.

“You couldn’t warn me that Dad is having surgery?” I growl.

She’s taken aback by my anger, and I can understand why, but she has no idea the affect this little piece of news will have on my life.

“Nice to speak to you too, Eli,” she says, her voice drip

ping with sarcasm.

“I’m sorry,” I mutter, running my hand through my hair. “It was just a shock to be told by my boss that he is having surgery. I felt like an idiot.”

“Well, it’s your own fault for not calling to check up on him.” She sighs. “I get you’re angry at him, but don’t you think it’s time to move on? Let it go, Eli. It would mean the world to him. The guy made a mistake. He shouldn’t have to pay for that forever.”

“Why not? Mom does,” I retort.

“Bullshit. Mom remarried three years ago.” She sighs again, as if she knows talking to me about this is no use. “If she can move on, why can’t you?”