Bad Teacher

“Cool, thanks.” He winks. “I’ll take a look.”

Suddenly, his phone rings, and he picks it up. “TJ Morrows.”

I sit down on the chair in front of him, waiting for him to finish. I hope it’s okay. I just wanna know what he thinks of the plan. I’m too anxious to wait, but if he wants me gone, I’ll leave, of course.

“Hey, Flynn. How are you doing?” TJ seems excited … or surprised. I can’t tell.

“Oh …” His voice is lower, and the look on his face changes. “What? No, that’s not true. Look, I’m sorry, okay? You know it’s been hard ever since Pops—”

He stops again, and I can hear the voice on the other end yelling.

“I’m doing my best here. I’m keeping things going. I’m not trying to do anything except my best; you know that,” TJ says, sighing out loud. I can tell he’s stressed out. “I’m really, really sorry. I know. I’ll go.”

I bite my lip, wondering if I should leave. I feel so out of place here, and this seems like a really personal conversation.

“No, I didn’t do it on purpose. Look, I’ve just been busy, okay? It’s not like you haven’t been either. When was the last time I saw you?” TJ’s yelling now. “That wasn’t my choice; it was yours. Can we just stop? Please? I’ll go, all right? Just name a time, and I’ll be there.” He grabs a pen and writes down something frantically. “Fine, I’ll be there. I’ll see you then.” He smacks the phone down and blows out a breath.

I don’t speak. I’m not sure what I can say. I know nothing of the situation, and I’ll probably only make it worse. But we can’t sit here in silence and ignore what just happened either.

“Are you okay?” I ask gently.

“No, I’m not okay.” In a fit of rage, he swipes his hand along the desk and throws off pens, clips, notes, papers … even my plan. “Fuck!”

I go to my knees and silently pick all it up from the floor, placing it back on the desk.

Suddenly, the door opens, and Gillian comes rushing in. “Is everything okay?”

I get up from the floor and pretend I was just talking with him.

“Everything is fine, Gillian,” TJ says with an annoyed voice. “Just … give me a few minutes, okay? I’ll call you when I need you.”

“Okay.” She makes a face but still turns and walks out again, closing the door behind her.

“I’m sorry,” TJ mutters under his breath.

“It’s okay,” I say, brushing his arm briefly. “I’ll leave you alone for a minute.”

When I turn around, he says, “No. wait.”

I glance over my shoulder. “Is there anything I can get you? Cup of coffee, maybe?”

“No, just …” He holds up his hand. “Just stay.”

“Okay.” I sit back down on the chair in front of the desk. “I can do that.”

He nods a few times and gazes down at the wood, breathing out air like a bull. “Sorry about that.”

“It happens to all of us.”

“Not me,” he says, still not looking at me. “At least, not normally.”

“We all have our weak spot,” I reply. “I do too.”

“Hmm …”

I lean forward and place my hand on top of his. “If you wanna discuss it, I’m here.”

He nods again, licking his lips as if he’s preparing for something big. “That was my brother. Flynn. He called because … well …” He sighs, and his eyes flash to me from underneath his lashes. “My mom’s not well. She’s in a facility. She’s got advanced Alzheimer’s.”

“Oh … I’m sorry. That must be tough,” I say, holding his hand tight.

“Flynn’s mad because I haven’t visited her in a while.” He chews the inside of his cheeks. “And I know. He’s right. I haven’t. And I feel fucking bad about it.”

“It’s okay. It happens to all of us.”

“No, it doesn’t.” He pulls away from my grasp. “Who forgets about their mother? No one.”

“You didn’t forget about her, did you?” I ask.

“I didn’t, but I didn’t go to see her either.”

“But you had your reasons.”

“Reasons,” he repeats, spitting out the word like it’s poison on his lips. “I’m just lazy.”

“No, you’re not,” I say with a stern voice. “That’s not true. Stop beating yourself up.”

“I could’ve gone and visited her.”

“But you chose not to. There must be a reason.”

Again, that silent but powerful glance. Words aren’t always necessary to say what you need to say. And he does just that. He knows exactly why he hasn’t gone, but the guilt is still eating at him.

“You did what you had to do,” I say.

“To protect myself …” His eyes turn glossy. “But I do care about her. I love my mother.” When the tears start to fall, I rise from my seat and walk around the desk, hugging him tight.

“I know, TJ.” I shush him. “You don’t have to say it. I believe you.”