Mr. Masters (Mr. 1)

He drops his head in shame.

The kids come bounding back to the car, all changed and ready to go.

“Get in the car, kids. We’re going to McDonald’s.” I sigh.

Mr. Masters looks between Willow and me. “Can I come?” he asks softly.

I shake my head. “You’re not invited.”

The kids get in the car and we drive away. I watch him disappear in the rear-view mirror, standing still, watching us leave without him.

Mr. Masters disappointed me today.

I don’t think I like him anymore.

I wait on the porch for my Uber driver to pick me up. It’s 8:00 p.m. on Saturday night, and I’m going out with Emerson. I’m wearing a pale pink dress and I have my cardigan slung over my folded arms.

I haven’t spoken to Mr. Masters since our fight at football this morning, but the kids have spent the afternoon laying on my bed, watching movies.

It seems they’re both giving him the silent treatment as well. Good.

The door opens and Mr. Masters comes out to stand beside me. He puts his hands into his pockets and the two of us stare forward, out into the darkness.

“I didn’t know,” he says quietly.

I inhale sharply, but I don’t answer.

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m not the one you should be apologizing to,” I tell him dryly.

We stay silent for a little while longer.

“When will you be back?” he asks quietly.

“Tomorrow afternoon for Willow’s dinner party.”

He nods and rolls his lips, unsure whether to speak or walk away.

We stand in silence, once again, and I just want him to go back inside the house. I honestly have nothing to say to him.

“I could have driven you.”

“No, thank you,” I whisper. “I wouldn’t want to put you out.”

The headlights appear at the end of the driveway, and I watch as the car pulls up to the front of the house.

“Goodbye, Mr. Masters,” I say flatly.

He stays silent.

I get into the car and look at him through the car window. He’s unmoving, still, with both of his hands in his pockets as he watches the car drive me away.

He looks so lost.

I roll my eyes, because he should.

He is.