Until December (Until Her 5)

“I’ll prove it to them.”

“I know you will.” He rests his forehead against mine. “You’re doing it every day.” He uses his thumb to tip my chin back then touches his lips to mine. “Have a good day at work.”

“You too, and let me know what July says after she sees Sloth.”

“I’ll send you a text.”

“Okay.” I force myself to let him go and take a seat behind the wheel. Once he closes the door, I roll down the window, and he grins as I tap my finger to my lips.

“Love you, dork.” He bends to kiss me one more time, and I smile as I start the engine and wave goodbye once I’m backed out of the driveway.

After stopping at my place to pick up the supplies I need for the project we’re doing today in class and my outfit for dinner tonight, I reach the school forty minutes later. As I’m parking, I notice a tow truck pull into the lot and stop. Wondering who’s having car trouble, I grab the handle of my bag, get out, and head into the school. I stop at the teachers’ lounge and poke my head inside, seeing a few teachers drinking coffee and chatting.

“Hey, guys. A tow truck just pulled into the teachers’ lot. I don’t know if one of you called them, but they’re here if you did,” I say, and everyone looks to where I’m standing just outside the door. Then Jetson, who’s sitting alone, pushes his chair back and rushes past me, almost knocking me over. I turn to watch him run down the hall and a moment later disappear outside.

“His wife left him a few months ago,” Mrs. Travis says, as I step into the lounge to grab a cup of coffee. “He was cheating on her, and when she found out, she decided to clear out their bank account and freeze everything. I bet his car is getting towed for nonpayment.”

Not feeling comfortable talking about a fellow teacher, even if he is a jerk, I don’t respond, but that doesn’t stop everyone else from continuing to talk about him. After I finish making my coffee, I take it with me to my classroom and sip it while I put my stuff away and get ready for my kids to show up.

When lunchtime rolls around, I grab my Kindle, my cell phone, and a cup of noodle soup from my desk. While I’m waiting to use the microwave in the teachers’ lounge, I read through a group text between my sisters and cousins, confirming that I really did agree to go out with them tomorrow night. As I’m texting them back to let them know I will be there, Gareth texts, but instead of reading it, I just dial his number and wait for him to answer.

“I just sent you a text.”

“I know, but I’m on lunch, so I’m calling instead. So how did the appointment go?”

“Sloth is healthy. He does have an infection between some of the folds on his face, and your sister thinks that, along with the fact that he can hardly see, is what’s making him seem so lethargic,” he explains.

“Did she give you medication for the infection?”

“She did. She also suggested he have surgery to remove some of the excess skin.”

“Surgery? Is it necessary?”

“She thinks so. She says it’s common for his breed to have surgery when they’re young, but he just never did.”

“Did she say when she can get him in for surgery?”

“Babe, it’s close to two grand, and that’s with a serious discount from your sister.”

“Okay. And?”

“And… right now, I don’t have that kind of dough to toss at a surgery that isn’t a necessity.”

I do some quick calculations. I’ve been saving for a new car for a while and have more than enough money saved. I just haven’t had time to go look for a car. “I’ll pay for it.”

“You’re not paying for Sloth to have surgery.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re not.”

“Why not? I have the money, and if it means he will have a better life, then I think it is a necessity.”

“I can’t even get into this with you right now. I need to get him back to my place and get to work,” he says, sounding angry, which is something that seriously annoys me, because I know it’s just his damn ego that won’t let me pay for the surgery.

“Fine, we’ll talk about it tonight.”

“There’s nothing to talk about. You’re not paying for Sloth to have surgery. I’ll work some overtime and take care of it.”

“Do you mean overtime on top of the overtime you’re already working? Because if that’s the case, you might as well just move to the shop, since you spend so much time there anyway.”

“I have to work to provide for my family,” he growls, no longer sounding angry but pissed.