Ex Games

“Fair enough. So, what is it?” I asked. “The story you made up for me.”

He set his briefcase down. “I’m not an English teacher so nothing elaborate. Just that you might be someone in the midst of a…” He trailed off to wince in a way that I appreciated. It meant that he felt at least a little bad for what he was about to say and a second ago, he didn’t seem too concerned with hurting my feelings. “Again, don’t take this the wrong way, but you look like someone who’s attempting an escape to her roots because she’s amid some melodramatic crisis in the nice, shiny life she has now. Is that… what this is?”

Wow.

I stared at him. But when he glanced up to get my reaction, he didn’t back down. Our eyes locked for a hard, intense moment then at once, we burst out laughing.

“Oh my God,” I groaned up to the ceiling. “That’s so embarrassing.”

“Why? Because I’m right?”

“Yes, you’re right. And I’m… transparent, I guess.”

“No, you’re not. I mean you are, but at least you’re a good story. You’ve been polite, you’re likable and you have a fair enough reason for writing that textbook of a letter to your old teacher. You’re making my routine trip to the building a lot more interesting on this lonely Christmas, so thanks for that.”

I snorted. “My pleasure, I guess.” As my laugh wound down, I turned and found my second-row desk from seven years ago. Running my hand over its surface, I sat on top of it.

“Settling in,” he observed. “I guess that means you aren’t rushing home to anyone.”

“No. I assume you aren’t either.”

“Your assumption would be correct.”

I hoisted myself further onto the desk and crossed my ankles. “Right. So tell me why you’re flying solo today?”

“Remarriage. No dad to speak of and mom’s recently married an asshole. Christmas was fun with just her but now it’s her and the trashy stepfamily.”

“Ooh. Trashy stepfamily. That sounds like the kind of reality show I watch.”

“Well, if you come home with me for Christmas, you can watch it up close in person.”

“I’d take you up on that but it would require you going home too,” I smirked. “And considering I just saw the soul sucked out of your eyes as you talked about them, I won’t force you to do that for my entertainment.”

“Thank God,” he said, massaging the tension from his own shoulder. “Soul-sucking would be an accurate description for them.”

“Alright. Girlfriend then?” I asked, shameless in my curiosity. It helped to be far from home with no familiar faces nearby. And Mr. Teacher didn’t so much as flinch at my question.

“No relationship as of September. Yourself?”

None as of ten days ago, I wanted to say. But then I reconsidered what Mason and I had been and corrected myself. “None as of October. My fiancé left me.”

“Brutal,” Teacher said. He meant it but he wasn’t shocked or dramatic about it, which I appreciated. “Is that why you’re here and not at home?”

“Surprisingly, no. Not really. Just escaping New York in general.”

“I thought New York was your escape from this place.”

My eyes dropped to the floor. “It was. Till about ten days ago.”

“What happened ten days ago?” he asked, moving to a desk in the first row, closer to mine. Sitting on top of it, he hugged his legs to his chest. I had to smile at how boyish the man looked in a classroom he usually taught in. “Something bad happened ten days ago.”

“No,” I replied. “Not ten days ago. Years ago. I just didn’t realize it at the time.”

“Bit of a riddle.”

I gave a weak laugh. “Sorry. I’d explain but there’s about ten hours of context that I’m not going to subject anyone to. Especially not on Christmas Day.”

“It’s alright. I’m a math teacher so I’m curious to figure it out based on the information you gave me.”