Language of Love

Inconcinnus

    "Sally?" I say and walk into the bathroom. I hear tears.

    I see the door swing open a few stalls down. She sits in the floor.

   "Get off of there that's disgusting." I say. She stands up. It's not until she does that I notice a white stick in her hand.
    "I'm pregnant," She sobs. I nod. I pull her into a hug before any more is said.
    "Do you know who the father is," I ask. She squeezes me tighter.
    "I was raped," She croaks.
    "Oh. Oh god." I blurt.

    We stand outside the stall, in the back corner of the bathroom. A see another student walk in and glance at us before walking into a stall.

    "Let's go back to my classroom," I say. She nods.

    She buries her face in her hands on the walk back. I have her sit at my desk. Because she sits at my chair, I sit up on top one of the desks.

   "When I was 16, I had an abortion." I say. She looks at me.
   "You did?"
   "Yeah."
   "Where'd you get the money?" She asks.
   "I didn't. My drunk mother + a coat hanger = no baby, but I'm infertile. So I don't recommend that." I cautioned.
   "I could keep it."
   "I have two questions for you. Are you okay with having it around your family? Are you okay with having it grow up the way you did?" I ask.
    "No and no." She sniffed.
    "Then you've got adoption, but will you be able to be pregnant in your house? It wasn't an option for me, but is it for you?" I ask.
    "No." She whispers.
    "I'm sorry."
    "I have no options." She cries.

    "I'll give you the money." I offer.
    "What?"
    "For an abortion, if that's what you decide, I can give you the money. 5, 10 years from now you can pay me back," I say.
    "No, I can't ask you to do that." She sighs.
    "You aren't asking. I'm giving," I insist.
     "It's not reasonable. I'm not going to take 400 bucks from you. Plus, it's not like I could find a ride to a clinic at all." She adds. I sigh.

     "I'll be right back." I say. I walk into Fitz's room. He has a class, it's almost over, but that means I'll have one in 15.

     "Can I talk to you in the hall for a minute?" I ask him. He nods and follows me. I explain the whole situation.
     "Damn." He says and pulls out his wallet.
     "She wouldn't take money from me, she ain't going to take it from you," I remind. 
     "She will if she knows I'm a billionaire." He adds.
     "No. That's not why I came down here. What do you think I should do?" I ask.
     "Give her this." He replied, holding a 100 bill.
     "Do you just carry that in your wallet?"
     "Yeah."
     "That's not enough anyway."

     "Don't they do free ones somewhere? Just give her this to take an Uber and let her go." He says.
      "Okay. You need to tell her that." I say. He nods.
      "Watch my class." He requests. Before he leaves, he takes a step in and nods to me. He follows by placing a "shh" finger on his lips. The students get really quiet, just as he has asked.

     I walk into the room. A girl raises her hand.

    "Yes?"
    "You're his girlfriend, right?"
     "Uh, I don't know where you got that impression." I say, accidentally sounding sarcastic.
     "Well, he said his girlfriend almost died and was like crying earlier. And you and Mr. Coleman were the only teachers shot, so I'm pretty sure it was you."
      "Not far off." I mutter.
      "He was telling us about you earlier this year. He loves you, a lot." She tells.

     "All good," Fitz says, walking back into the room. I sigh and head to my room. Sally waits at my door.

    "He's a billionaire?"
    "Yeah, I was informed 5 months after we started dating so, that was great." I recall.
    "Well I'm going to go, thank you."
    "Of course." I say. She gives me a hug and walks down the hall.

    Fitz walks in the door and throws his bag on the ground. He suggests that we go out for pizza at Wesley. I agree. We walk there and he acts awkward. I give him a funny look, but I don't think he caught. He looks guilty. We sit at a booth and order a pizza. For some reason, the waiter seemed overly joyful. I suppose that could have been contrast to Fitz's guilty tone.

    "So, every spring break, everyone heads to my mom's house in Alabama. Those of us who aren't teachers or students take off and it's a huge thing. I'm supposed to bring you this year." He says.

     "I'll go. I'd love to meet your family." I say. That must have been his expression. He was afraid to ask me to meet his family.

    "Here's the thing. I don't think I should bring my girlfriend to the reunion. I feel like that's just weird. Because your my girlfriend. It's not like we're getting married or anything. I think it's too soon," He says. Or maybe that was it. He doesn't want me to meet his family. I don't blame him, the last time I met one of his family members, she walked in on us naked, told me his was a billionaire and informed him of his sister's death. So I definitely don't blame him one bit.

     "Just tell whoever asked you to bring me that I'm visiting my own family. You don't need to make a big deal of it," I say.

     "There's another option." He says, finally making eye contact.

     "What?" I remark. I'm very lost.

     "I know you're a lot younger than me, but I'm almost thirty. I want to be married before I'm well into my thirties. I want to have kids before I'm 35, but I need to get married first. And I don't think I can do that without you." He says.

     "What?" I blurt. He slides out of the booth. I tilt my head, confused.

     He drops to one knee and pulls out a box. He flips open the top. I look into his eyes. Is he really doing this?

    "I almost lost you that day. The day of the shooting. I thought I did. In my nightmares I see you in that puddle of blood, dead. Don't let me imagine a world without you. Please. Will you marry me?" He asks. I feel tears in my eyes. I feel the eyes of the entire restaurant on us. His hands tremble. So do mine.