Story of Our Life

Eliza

Trigger Warning: miscarriage 

Present

  Nothing in this world could've prepared me for today.

  One might think that the original diagnosis would've been enough. Even if I'd still planned on continuing to work through all of the treatments, all of the trials. I knew the sickness would become rough, but I love my job. The staff that I work with are an incredible group of men and women. But the kids?

  Oh, how I adore the kids. 

  Don't get me wrong. We would have our moments. There were days in which I had the chance to play Mama Bear on more than one occasion. There were days in which I had to be more stern than I'd like. We would always come back to being the teacher that cared and the students who enjoyed being in my classroom.

  When I began losing my hair, I went ahead and shaved myself bald in my own bathroom.  Brandt hadn't left his electric razor so I'd gone and bought one for myself after doing research online. Then, I'd gone and ordered multiple wig options. 

  The amount of wig options were insane.  It led me to hours of research before I finally pressed the payment button, choosing the quickest shipping option possible as I knew I couldn't face the town, let alone my students and coworkers, without 'my' hair. 

  In that one weekend I tried on seven different wigs, finding just one that came anywhere close to my original hair.  On Monday morning, one of my overly observant students immediately said, "What happened to your hair?"

  "Trying something new," I'd answered and went about my business while my scalp itched continuously throughout the day.

  It was just the following week that the doctor said the cancer was progressing but he'd like to continue the treatments to prolong the inevitable. 

  From then, I stopped returning for treatments and had typed up my letter of resignation to be handed in on the last day of post planning. 

  Which brings me here, standing in front of my principal's desk staring down at the next year's contract waiting for my signature. I don't lift the pen, my hands being occupied not only by their own shaking, but holding the envelope that encases my 'walking papers.'

  At least this way, it's on my own terms.

  "I can't sign that," I say softly, fully aware of the shocked expression that overtakes Principal McCormick's face.

  She's always been kind to me which is why I told her face to face when I was diagnosed to begin with.  However, she doesn't know how serious it has become, nor the fact that I probably won't even be around when the students return in mid August.

  Mrs. McCormick looks on at me with kind, worried filled eyes.  "You're not coming back?"

  I shake my head, swallowing down the lump in my throat, terrified of the significance in this moment. "I'm sorry."

  "Don't be, Eliza. Your health is what matters. Take the year, get better. I'll have a spot for you when you're ready."

  I give the smallest nod, turn on my heels and walk out of the room without a word.  My heart breaking with my own knowledge that my zip code will be entirely different in just a few short months. 

~Brandt~

  The powers at be were surprised when I asked for a day off in the middle of my week long shift. 

  "This isn't like you, Elwood. Anything going on that I need to be made aware of?" Lieutenant Freeman questions me over the phone. 

  I answer with a simple, "No, sir," and thank him for granting me the day.