Heavenly Brews

Chapter Three

Sam POV

Waking up this morning felt strange, and it felt almost instinctual to look beside me for someone who wasn’t there. Scratching the back of my neck, I yawn and roll my shoulders to remove the feeling. I get ready for work, sighing when I remember I have to stay after today to help with the drama club. I don’t know a thing about acting, and I can hear Dean laughing already, telling this for years to come. Bones chews his food slowly, staring at me from his bowl as I put papers in my bag and look at the clock. Seeing the time I curse, gathering everything I need and tugging on shoes before running out the door.

Driving as quickly as I can without getting pulled over, I park my Ford and rush inside. Walking through the door just after the bell, I laugh it off with the class who was behaving for the most part. I tell them I haven’t gotten through all the poems yet, and to read for their independent projects. The class is quiet, the sound of turning pages and muffled headphones. I take this time to read some of their poems, grinning at a few, impressed at metaphors in other, frowning at some that show me who didn’t try. I’m nearly done with the stack when one sticks with me, and I find myself reading it several times.

The Empty Chair

It must have happened slowly

And taken me this long to hear

How quiet the rooms are lonely

All the space vast and sincere

 

After the silence came the empty chair

Cold and unimportant across the table

Mocking me as I sit alone with care

Ready for another day loveless but able

The feeling of waking up alone in my big vacant bed this morning runs through me, and I close my eyes for a moment. Opening them I sigh silently, giving the poem an A and instinctively looking for him even though he is in a later hour. I wonder why someone so young would write this, and how lonely they must be to have done so. Finishing the stack of papers, I tell my students to remember when their reading project is due as they leave. I grab my notes, writing key points on symbolism and imagery on the board for a lecture in my in my next hour.

The day continues much better than yesterday, though the feeling from reading the poem was still there. The lines haunt me and I struggle to remain focused as I teach, the day going too fast for me. When the last bell rings, I’ve managed to fight my need for someone down and groan as I grab my bag, full of my fourth hour’s characterization essay rough drafts. The temptation to leave, pretending I’ve forgotten my new role as drama club helper, is strong. I can’t put it off forever, so I should just get it over with.

I pace down the halls, bag thrown over my shoulder and hands buried in my jacket pockets, locating the theater near the cafeteria. I push through a side door, walking next to the stage and in front of the first row of chairs. The actual drama teacher greets me, introducing herself as Ruby and there’s something alluring about her so I decide this couldn’t be too bad. She explains that I will help with everything, mainly choreography; even though she assures me she will write it down and show me, I still groan internally. I know nothing about dancing, another reason I didn’t sign up to coach escadrille.

Ruby pats my shoulder and smiles, but it does nothing to stop the embarrassment I know is ahead of me. I look up to see many students on the stage, and Ruby grabs my arm and drags me up the steps to join them. The students stop talking and look at me inquisitively, a few I recognize from my classes. Ruby waits for complete silence to introduce me.