Wildly Perfect

Chapter 7

Clayton

School breaks do not incite the same feelings they did when I was a child.

There was freedom, the feeling that time stood still. You had hours upon hours to do as you pleased, the thought of returning back to those cement block walls felt forever away.

As a teacher, I felt a different form of freedom. I had the ability to go to the bathroom whenever I felt the urge. I was allowed to take more than twenty minutes to eat a meal. Sleeping later was always dependent on Kennedy and Alicia, but I could on occasion squeeze in a couple of ten minute cat naps somewhere throughout the afternoon.

But now as a principal, I'm still answering school board messages through New Years Eve and reviewing our upcoming Staff Development Day before students return to the building.

I've been sitting in front of my office computer at the school for the last four hours. My eyes feel like sandpaper and the bleariness is telling me that unless I want to ring in the New Year on the couch in the teacher's lounge, I need to be getting home sooner rather than later.

My days of ringing in the New Year in grand celebration went the way of the dinosaurs when Kennedy came along. Throughout the four years in high school we celebrated with a bonfire on the back of my buddy Isaac's old farm. There might've been some sort of illegal activities that took place, which is why I don't allow Kennedy out there now even though she's friend's with his daughter, Avery.

Yes, I know, he and I turned out just fine, so why not let Kennedy live a little and enjoy making her own decisions? Well, because she is a grand reminder of one of my own stupid choices.

I'm not ready to be a grandfather at thirty-five.

Alicia would probably be thrilled, although if I had to guess the triplets drive her mad on a constant basis which is why she's always pawning them off on Kennedy. In truth, Kennedy wouldn't have the help she would need from her mother if she were to end up pregnant at this stage in her life. We tend to follow in the steps that were laid in front of us, and Alicia's parents pushed her right out the door. I can't see her doing much more than willing to smile at cameras for photo ops before shoving her back into Kennedy's arms.

I would be there, though. I was raised differently than my ex wife.

My stomach decides to growl loudly as I come to the red light in the middle of our small town. The fancier places are open, but only those with reservations are going to get in at this time of evening. I'm not in the mood to drive the forty minutes into Charleston, which leaves me with either McDonalds or Lubi Lou's Diner.

I turn into the diner's parking lot, knowing that my body can't handle McDonalds meat very well anymore. And honestly, I think I'd rather ring in the New Year with a belly full of country fried chicken rather than mystery meat.

This particular diner is famous for meatball sandwiches. In my hey day I could put away three of their Lubi's, piled high with meat, sauce and provolone.

Just thinking about them now makes my chest ache with pseudo heartburn, making me wonder if I have any antacids in the glove box of my truck.

I'm old.

However, the way the younger waitress is eyeing me from the cash register, makes me feel a little differently about my earlier assessment.

Although I am still wondering if there are any TUMS in the truck and I make a mental note to stop by the store on the way home just to be safe. Especially once the words "Lubi special with extra sauce," spills out of my mouth before I can manage to stifle it down.