Where He Stands

Epilogue: The Happy Ending

Five Years Later...

"Okay, class dismissed. I'll see you all next week. Happy weekend, everyone."

The students got up and left the room, chattering to their friends and laughing. I sighed to myself and fixed my table, throwing everything inside my bag. I don't have time to be organized. I have something important that I must attend to.

"Miss Georges? Can I speak to you for a moment?"

I looked up and saw my co-teacher, Ryan. He's twenty-three, like me, but he teaches History. I grinned to him, even though all I want was to get out of the room. "Hey, Ryan. What's up?" I asked.

"So it's Friday night," he said, chuckling nervously. "Maybe you'd like to come with me and my friends. We're going to a bar and have some drinks."

I stiffened. I knew that Ryan liked me more than a friend. I mean, who buys coffee for someone every morning? And we knew each other for two years. We met in college, we both studied to be high school teachers, and we ended up to have next-door classrooms. I gave him an apologetic smile, though. "Oh, Ryan. I really can't tonight."

His face fell and I truly felt sorry for him. "Th-that's fine," he stammered. "I mean, you do have plans. Of course."

"I'm so sorry," I said, shaking my head.

"Maybe you can go out with me tomorrow morning? Just even for lunch?" he tried again.

He's persistent, I'll give him that. "Okay, let me just get this straight. I'm not looking for any relationships right now," I said, trying to be firm but gentle at the same time. "Remember Oliver? The guy I told you about that was from Switzerland?"

"Oh right. Your high school sweetheart," he said, sounding angry.

I sighed and patted the back of his hand. "I'm so sorry. We can stay friends, though."

Ryan nodded and left the classroom hurriedly without any words. I sighed again and decided to let him go. It's best if he's left alone. I glanced at my wristwatch and noticed it was already four-thirty. "Whoops, I almost forgot," I muttered, fishing my phone from inside of my pockets.

I dialed the number that I've memorized for five years. "Hi, can I speak to Michael Georges please?" I said.

"Oh, it's you Rebecca," Matt, the local guard who's been answering my phone calls for the past five years, replied. He's actually a great guy. A bit of a flirt, sometimes, but still a great guy. "I've been wondering when your next call was."

I chuckled. "Okay, Matt. I miss you too. Can I talk to my brother now?"

"Sure," he said.

There was a beep. I waited for a few seconds and then I heard Michael's familiar voice through the phone. "Hi, Rebecca. What's up?"

I sat back down at my chair. "Ryan asked me out. After two years of knowing each other, he finally did."

"Wow. That guy is such a loser. Two years, huh?"

"I know, but he's not a loser, Michael. He's just really shy," I said, defending my friend. "So what's new with you?"

"Not much. There's a new guy, though. He's a shoplifter and he claimed he's innocent and all. I saw him snatch my food earlier this breakfast, so I think he's a liar too."

"Ugh," I sympathized. "Did you confront him?"

"Nah. I don't like to start some trouble."

"And Mr. Hoffman? How is he?"

"Still alive, if that's what you're asking. But let's not talk about him," he said dismissively. "It's the sixteenth today. Are you excited?"

I smiled dreamily. "Yes."