The Teacher Who Cared

Chapter 17

   "I can't believe it's still open." Mark said

   "Well we gotta go in!" I laughed

   We entered the small shop and surprisingly nothing has changed about it, not even the ice cream flavors.

   "Little Sean McLoughlin." Christina smiled

   "You're still running this old thing Chrissy." I said hugging her

   "Look how big you've grown. And you two finally married." She gushed

   "We have a son as well." Mark said as he hugged Christina

   "That must the the boy that was in a little while ago. Carbon copy of Sean. I didn't know you were ever with a woman." She said confused

   "I wasn't. Back when Mark and I were still kids we donated our sperm. 8 years later we have a foster child who turned out to be my son. I've been his teacher since he started school." I explained

   "Oh I've heard about your teaching. We need someone who cares about the kids like you do around here." She smiled

   "I don't think we need anymore husbands jumping off of bridges." Mark laughed

    "Well, maybe someone who cares just a little less." She giggled "Anyway, what are you doing back here?" 

   "Back for a funeral." I sighed

   "Not Malcolm's family. Last I heard they were in the hospital." She said sadly

   "Yeah." 

   "Oh, they were in here that night. Emily was talking about an argument with her man." Christina said shaking her head

   "She's stubborn, just like her daddy." Mark laughed

   After we got our ice cream we left the shop and continued our walk.

   "Are you doing okay Sean?" Mark asked

  "Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?"

   "Uhm, how about burring your niece and a close friend?" He suggested

   "I'm fine Mark, I swear." I assured him

   "Then why were you smoking Sean?" He asked

  "Because I didn't want to yell at Malcolm. Asking if I'm trying to kill myself, if I even care. Of course I fucking care! I have a family. I have my work. He seems stuck on the thought that I'm exactly the same way I was when I was 17. I've grown the fuck up! I have shit to take care of now!" I said frustrated

   "I get that Sean, but he's just worried. That's what happens when people care about you." Mark reminded me

   "I know Mark. It's just the last thing I want to discuss with him while he's burying his family." I sighed

   "I don't understand Sean. If you care than why is it so hard to assure him that you do?" Mark asked

"Because he's never going to believe me. Not as long as there's something in this world that could trigger me." I explained

   "You realize I will always worry about that, right?" Mark asked

   "Yeah." I sighed "Yeah, I do."

   We continued to walk, not really talking. I looked down at my arms, analyzing the scars, the few I could see at least. I took a deep breath, realizing that I'm not okay. Sean, you're 36 fucking years old. It's time to fucking grow up. A 36 year old man doesn't think about slicing his wrists. A 36 year old man deals with his shit, not cut his wrists to fix things. I know it hurts but you have to many good things going for you to feel like this. Your married, you have a child, seriously. I felt tears begin to brim at my eyes. I refuse to fucking cry. I pulled my hand away from Mark and grabbed my package of smokes, taking one out and lighting it as I wipe my eyes.