Caitlin held onto her secret for years, remaining a burden she was willing to carry. She desperately wanted to protect her son Zion from this world and from his father Bronze Marcelo, the most prominent artist of the rap industry. Simultaneously, sh...
In the fog of early morning, Caitlin parked her car in the school lot where only two cars accompanied her. Perhaps she could stay sequestered for the day. On Fridays, Mr. Godwin usually occupied himself with back-to-back meetings, especially about the new buildings being constructed.
Caitlin chugged the rest of her latest addiction, a cup of Joe, and prayed. A prayer that released the negative energy that seemed like a never-ending spiral of bull crap. There was this certainty of having her job that she knew she possessed. After her showcase of madness, or shall I say the telenovela episode, she threatened the dogmatism she once had. From one day to the next, Bronze shifted the gears of her life to whichever speed accommodated him best. She cannot recall a time where it had been a different way.
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Her smartphone vibrated in the cup holder centered in front of the gear stick, and Caitlin glanced in the direction of its annoying buzzing. She switched the vibrance of her phone for this specific person. THE DONOR, it read, with an eggplant emoji to emphasized her point. You're like 48 hours and 15 minutes late from the "phone call".
"Cay Cay," Bronze answered, his tone low and words slurred affectionately. "Your name feels weird on my tongue, ha."
Caitlin inhaled for an entire 30 seconds to steady the word vomit that threatened to disgorge.
"What do you want?" she asked through her teeth.
He chuckled that throaty laugh known to curl women's toes, and let out a sigh.
"I'll be in town for a few days. Please, I want to see him, the baby."
She shook her head. "For what? It's not like you wanted to see him since the day he was born."
"That's not fair. We were young--"
"You're right. I shouldn't have messed with someone lesser than a man."
The line went silent for a fleeting moment. Caitlin glanced at the phone and watched the minutes tick in continuation. She bit her lips anxiously and pressed the phone against her ear to listen hard for the sounds of his breaths. Instead, she heard the music of the daily streets, honking of cars and the wind flapping its loud howl.
Bronze whispered, "I'm sorry, Caitlin. I know that's not enough, but I want to be there...I want to be there for my son."
Caitlin heard it then, the longing in his voice. The voice of a man who lost someone and found them.
"Let me think about it," she answered honestly. Because at the moment she just wanted to curl up and released the plug inside of her throat that indicated the foredooming sorrow. A tap on her window made her jump with a slight jitter. Caitlin hung up the phone, satisfied with the heavy words she left ringing in his ear, and met the harsh gaze of Mr. Godwin. She quietly groaned. He rotated his hands to sign her to lower my window. Which was hilarious because everything was clearly automatic.
"Good morning, Ms. Michel. Please accompany me to my office." He nodded, and without a reply, made his way toward the back entrance of the school gates. Caitlin stared at his back, shivered, and thought crap. Begging should commence now.
***
Mr. Godwin poured water on the side of his Keurig and offered Caitlin a tray of small k-cups. She forced a smile that revealed partial teeth and partial hysteria. She quickly said thanks and grabbed one from the plain brown box. He added creamer to his black coffee and lowered himself on his elegant beige chair. She was more than positive that she might develop a heart murmur from all of the tension building inside of her chest. He checked his 12-inch iPad, using his index finger to sort through the emails, and after Caitlin had her coffee in hand, he locked the screen.
"Ms. Michel, you are quite the charmer, aren't you?" Mr. Godwin leaned forward in his chair. Her mouth dropped a bit in surprise. He continued, "Not only do the children rave about you, but the staff as well. I understand that you qualify for a temporary license as a teacher." He motioned with his hand in search for a response.
Caitlin nodded. She added, "I just sent my transcripts to the district a week ago."
He glanced at his computer screen when he heard a small ding to announced an urgent email. He apologized and began to type back at turtle speed. Caitlin fidgeted in her chair and felt the skin of the seat stuck on her thigh and the awkward moist of sweat built between them. Mr. Godwin leaned back in his chair, rubbed his white Dumbledore style beard.
He began, "As you know, Mrs. Rosario is a few weeks away from giving birth to her son. The department head made a suggestion on behalf of her replacement." He trailed off for an added effect. A light bulb burst inside of her brain.
"Oh, oh! Are you offering me...a permanent sub position?" Caitlin tingled all over with a mixture of hilarity and mirth.
"Yes, to complete the end of the school term. And in doing so, later offer you a more permanent solution," he said, peeked over his large frames. Caitlin did a mental happy dance. He continued, "However, I do have some concerns. For some odd reason, Mr. Ramos was unaffected by your outburst. He even commented on how we care for our employees."
Caitlin stood up and bowed her head. "I am nothing but committed to this line of work. Please give me the opportunity to demonstrate my professionalism." Thank you, Mr. Ramos.
He covered his emerging belly with his coat, crossing one side over the other. She stared Mr. Godwin straight into his eyes, even saw more wrinkles that she knew existed. With Mr. Ramos's input, Mr. Godwin had made the absolute decision about her new employment. Lucky me. She reminded herself to search for him with a handsome breakfast later while she had time.
Mr. Godwin's eyes diverted back to his computer momentarily while an incoming of four emails appeared on his desktop. For being a busy man, he sure didn't mind taking his time to the announcement - a debating decision of her life, world, and income. He lowered his thick glasses with his index finger, squinted his eyes, and scrunched up his white eyebrows which reminded her of chicken feathers. She thought he forgotten her until he finally replied, "Good. Great. When Abbey finally takes leave in two weeks, you will manage her position of remedial language arts class."
Caitlin thanked him over and over as she exited through his office door, waved at Mrs. Donaldson who wore a loud yellow-colored blouse and twinned skirt. She pursed her lips and nodded sharply, barely noticeable.
