Opaque

21 | Don't Tell

"The best way of keeping a secret is to pretend there isn't one." ― Margaret Atwood

Chapter Twenty-One

Mia blew her whistle-I wasn't even aware she had a whistle dangling from her neck as a form of necklace until I saw her lift it up-and all of the kids, the brothers included, took their spots in the line and sat down against the wall.

"Okay guys, that's about it for today. I am very proud of you guys, yes even you Gerome," she pointedly looked at a red-haired, freckled, boy who grinned mischievously, "And I expect this same kind of behavior from you next week."

With that, she concluded the class and one by one, the students picked up their scattered belongings and went into the connected lockers room to change. As they all went out of sight, the memories began to fade until I was level-headed and normal again.

I stood up just as Mia approached me.

"Are you okay," she asked, her eyebrows scrunched together.

"I'm fine," I said. Another lie; I hoped Karma was busy with someone else.

"Are you sure," she asked, her eyes scrutinizing my face.

"Yeah, I was just a little tired," I said, shrugging.

I was on a roll today with these lies. I could sense the doors of hell opening as I spoke.

She nodded, unsure, and said, "Okay, so what did you want to talk to me about?"

"Is there anywhere we can sit down and talk," I said, as the parents of the children showed up.

"Sure," she said and then looking at a young boy sitting in the corner of the room-looking like an ant compared to the room's size-she added, "Give me a minute."

I nodded and leaned back against the wall as I watched the young children leave, holding hands with their parents, with bright smiles on their faces. I remembered when I was that happy...

As I had sat on my bed, surrounded by plush toys-all distinctly marked with years of play-the radio played songs from the eighties; my mother's all-time favorite songs. Pushing my quilted blanket away from me, my feet touching the cold wooden floor, I rejoiced as my favorite song came on. As the song played in the background, as the birds chirped outside, I flared out my dress and twirled.

"Sorry to keep you waiting-Michael's mom is always late," Mia said, bringing me out of my memory.

"It's okay," I said, blinking a few times to push the memories back into the recesses of my mind.

"We can sit in the lounge and talk," she said, framing the phrase in such a fashion that it came out more as a question.

I nodded, still dizzy from the snippet from my past. The twirling, the music, the quilted blanket-all were gone.

Mia began to walk to the door and, after she gestured me to follow, my legs began to move as well. We walked through the same thin hallway we had entered from and landed back into the lobby. From there, there were three doors-how hadn't I noticed them before?-but Mia took the one closest to us, to our right.

Going through another relatively thin hallway-one that made me wonder how people like Axel managed to walk through these-we entered a moderate sized room, unlike the ballroom sized one we had left.

Fortunately, this room, with whitewashed walls and a large window looking out into the busy streets of Manhattan, had chairs and tables. After the blast from the past, my legs felt weaker than normal.

"Where do you want to sit," Mia asked, her arm gesturing to the entire room.

I shrugged and said, "Anywhere is fine."