Rhythms of Grace (18 page)

Except about Brian.

When he’d twirled me around in that parking lot my first night back, I’d felt violated and humiliated all at once. I knew him well enough now to know how big a deal that was, that and everything that had come after it. That evening, he’d held my hand like we’d been long-lost lovers, but he kept his distance from me these days. Now and then our hands reached for an eraser at the same time or one of his locks wandered over his shoulder and tickled my cheek. If it bothered Brian at all, he never let on. I hoped my calm façade came off as well as his. I doubted it.

Brian nodded to me for my part of the lecture.

“Another part of the class is the Daily Challenge. Every day I’ll ask several questions related to art, music, history, or culture. If anyone can answer all of them for a week, which has never happened in my other classes, you’ll get five dollars—”

The door slammed behind me. A boy with a huge afro covering his eyes slipped into an empty desk, all hair and squeaky clean sneakers. Sean McKnight. He leaned over his seat and asked the girl next to him if she’d brought a comb. I’d taught middle school enough years to know that when I saw Sean after lunch he’d have a fresh set of cornrows. From the look on Brian’s face, though, the boy might not live long enough to get them in.

I sent a cautious look my partner’s way. The look, brief but powerful, smoothed his creased forehead.

“Take it easy,” I mouthed before going on, but it was too late. Brian was already headed for Sean’s seat.

“What’s the matter, Mr. McKnight, couldn’t outrun the police this morning?”

The Honeys, a cluster of pretty but unmotivated girls in the center of the room, burst into laughter.

Sean slid down into his desk. “Whatever, Doc. Whatever.”

My eyes locked with Brian’s, and in that moment I saw why he’d been sent to anger management. I also saw what it was in Sean that made Brian so crazy.

Himself.

And he was trying to protect me from the both of them.

“Christians,” Brian had said when I hadn’t been upset about Sean being in our class. “Always the first to judge, the last to arrive at the fire. I know you think you know these kids, know this school, but it isn’t as simple as you think. I wonder what you’ll think about Sean when he snaps in here and starts shooting somebody. I hope we’ll both live to tell our sides of the story.”

“All right, everyone. Settle down. Let’s do our first daily challenge. An easy one. I’ll even pay.” I crossed my arms.

Jodi’s desk scraped closer.

“What African nation claims the Blight of Benin, where thousands of slave ships received their prisoners?”

Silence buzzed in our ears. “This country also has the largest population in Africa.”

I wasn’t surprised by this response. I’d told Brian my thoughts about starting with an African question. Even honors kids rarely knew the answers. In most schools, the most Africa they saw was the edge of Egypt on a map of the Middle East. I guess I thought that since some of them had taken Brian’s class before, they might have known something. At least it had gotten the attention off of Sean. Best to end it quickly. “Okay, you guys are killing me with the quiet here. Dr. Mayfield? Would you like to answer and get this over with?”

Brian chuckled and the kids oohed and aahed as though I’d challenged him to a rumble. I realized too late my folly, especially when he took the rubber band off his wrist and put up his hair. It killed me when he did that.

And he knew it.

From the smile on Sean’s face, it was no secret to anyone else either.

“Nigeria,” Brian said softly. “That’s where your last name is from, right? Have you been there? Care to tell us about it?”

“No and no.” I tried to strain the edge out of my voice, but wasn’t successful. Probably used to such exchanges at home, the kids started to raise their hands. Brian rattled off answers to a few questions about Africa and then passed out timed writing prompts. I faded behind my desk. I wished I could get out of the room.

When the bell rang, no one wasted time heading for the door. They’d packed up their things long before.

“Great job, everyone. See you tomorrow,” Brian called out too late for anyone to hear.

Sean, the last student to leave, looked back at us and shook his head.

“They got it bad,” he whispered to the girl walking behind him, who was already combing out the ends of his hair.

If only you knew how bad
, I thought as the lemon juice and tea tree oil Brian used on his locks registered with my nose. He rarely got close enough for me to smell it except when I was trying to pry him away from lingering too long at Sean’s desk. Now he was too close.

I looked into the hall where Sean had disappeared. I wished I was leaving too.

It was our planning period, but if I got away quickly I could still meet Zeely down the hall for what remained of breakfast in the cafeteria. It should have been easy to make an excuse and get away. Joyce had left a note for me to see her after this class, while the kids were in art with Lottie. It should have been easy to go, but we hadn’t been this close since we didn’t have a choice. Somehow, I found my resolve, rediscovered my legs.

“Some class today, huh? I’m going to run downstairs and get some food. I was dragging a little this morning and didn’t eat. And Joyce, I have to meet with her. If you need me, just send a student for me—”

He took off his glasses and licked his lips. Not his whole mouth. Just the corners. He wasn’t going to make this easy.

“No problem. You go on ahead. I just wanted to collect my payment.”

For a moment, I was confused. “For the Daily Challenge?”

He nodded. Slowly.

“Okay, but my purse is locked in the desk and—hold on, I’ll get it.”

Brian shook his head. “I don’t want your money.”

I swallowed hard. “I don’t understand.”

He licked his lips again, all over this time. “I think you do.”

This wasn’t feeling fun anymore. This had happened before on other jobs, with other men. Once I’d almost had to press charges, but the guy was fired. Brian and I had something between us, but that’s just where it belonged—between us. He was taking this too far. As I took a step back, he looked stricken.

“What’s wrong? Are you mad? I’m sorry. I was just kidding. What I really wanted was to know why you got so mad when I asked about your name. About Nigeria. Ibo tribe, right? I recognize the name. And there’s that football player . . . I was just curious. Didn’t mean to hit a nerve. Can we talk about it later?”

“I’d rather not,” I said, not sticking around to hear more.

“Wait. Grace!”

I didn’t wait. I couldn’t. For some reason I couldn’t explain, I did pause just long enough to say one more thing. “Okoye was my married name and not the football player. A physics professor. He’s dead. I hope that’s enough information for you.”

“Oh, Grace. I’m so—”

My feet carried me away quickly so I wouldn’t have to hear the rest. I appreciated people’s sincerity, their condolences still made me sick. He’d never known Peter. He had nothing to be sorry for.

Except me.

And I’d had enough pity to last a lifetime. Lost in a pack of students headed outside for PE, I fought all my fears, all Mal’s predictions. Last month’s open door now seemed like a deep pit, poised and waiting to swallow me whole. I was out of breath by the time I made it to the cafeteria, and while I’d left Brian behind, he was still with me, still invading my private, precious space. Space I was still trying to guard when I ran into Zeely, rushing from the other direction.

“Y’all big people are going to be the death of me. Watch where you’re going, girl. You ’bout knocked off my wig. I tried to call you to pray this morning, but you didn’t answer and I didn’t see you out walking. I got your text. What’s up?”

“I’m going through some things.” More like someone, but I was fresh out of explanations. Like the slaves who’d arrived at the downtown square with their testimony price, I just wanted to go in peace. A little quiet wouldn’t hurt either.

Not that Zeely was about to let me have any of that. She pulled me toward the trays, waving for the lunch lady to wait for us before throwing out what remained of the food. “I know we haven’t been able to talk much since those kids cut the fool at orientation. If you’d rode with me, you wouldn’t have been there for the madness, but that’s beside the point . . . Don’t let it worry you. This school isn’t like those little private academies you taught at before, but it matters, you know? It counts for something. For a lot of these kids, we’re their last stop. So hang on. It’ll get better. They settle down in the second nine weeks. The spring is murder, but we’ll cross that bridge when we get there.”

I shook my head while Zeely paid for our meals. She didn’t bother to ask if I had any money. My obvious distress must have given me away. “It’s not the kids.” True enough, what had happened in this cafeteria my first day in town still pulled at my mind sometimes, but right now it was the man in that class who had me in a whirl. The lunch lady patted my hand as we passed by. I stopped to return her smile. I remembered her now and not just from the orientation. She’d been the pianist at Mount Olive when we were kids. Her makeup made my mother boo and hiss behind her hymnal every Sunday.

I took the last fruit bowl and followed Zeely to the pancakes, then the sausage and the eggs . . .

My friend rested easily on one of the orange disc seats connected to the lunch tables, which looked much bigger without fifty kids jammed around it. She carved her pancakes kid style while I eased onto the seat, hoping it wouldn’t give out under me. Finally comfortable, I speared a piece of pineapple and sipped its juice.

“So, was he looking that good this morning?”

I almost choked.

“What?”

Zeely swirled her fork in syrup. “If it’s not the kids, it’s him. We don’t have much time, so let’s just be real about the thing. What’d he wear today?”

There was nothing to do but laugh. And tell. “Remember those African suits Peter used to wear? He had on one of those. Cornflower blue. Remember that crayon?”

She sipped her milk and nodded in agreement. “Brian isn’t my favorite person, but the man can wear a suit. But you didn’t almost knock me down because he’s fine. That’s old news. What’s the drama?”

What was this, the Spanish Inquisition? My defenses started to rise. “I don’t think Dr. Mayfield is the issue. The catalyst perhaps, but not the issue. For some reason being around him makes me—”

“He makes you want a man. Just admit it.” Zeely smiled before biting into a sausage link.

She was having way too much fun with this, not to mention being wrong. I’d chosen my singleness this time, the moment I’d told Mal my story. Brian had a lot going for him, but he was just something else for me to pray over, walk through. Nothing that would last. “No offense, Zee, but I was married long enough to remember that it isn’t as easy as it looks. I don’t know how Mal talked me into almost marrying him, but that whole mess has liberated me from the pursuit of men: praying for them, waiting for them to call, trying to figure out what they’re thinking. I just don’t have that kind of time.”

As the words left my mouth, I knew I’d said too much, traveled too far into my friend’s private space.

Zeely pushed away her plate after tasting everything. “I’m not offended,
Diana
. Sure, I want a husband. Kids. I’ll admit it. But I’m still here: working, worshiping, being a good thing. If nobody chooses to find me, it’s his loss, ’cause I’m as good as it gets.” She wiped her mouth.

I closed mine. She’d cast a blow of her own with the way she spat my real name, reminding me that husband or no, I wasn’t any different from her. And I wasn’t. We both had the same husband now: God himself.

She dotted her lips with a napkin and applied a fresh coat of lipstick. Flawless, even without a brush. “You can deny it all you want, but Brian woke you from the dead. Acknowledge it or you’re setting yourself up for the fall.”

Falls? What would she know about them? Zeely’s life had been a steady stream of success after success. Her father had never looked at her as though she were a stranger. She’d never had to make sure everything was perfect before sneaking off to church. Man or no man, she still had her virtue and the respect of everyone in town. I only garnered their pity, even from Brian. I checked the clock, wondering if Joyce was in her office. “After all those years with a man who wouldn’t step foot in a church, and almost two years wasted on a man who wouldn’t step outside one, I think I’d rather keep things just like they are.”

Zeely stood, inspecting her reflection in her compact like some of the girls in my class. “You know I’m not paying you any mind, right? Get mad at me all you want, but WE both know that just when you think you’ve got something figured out, the Lord will move in another direction. If you didn’t know that, you wouldn’t be here.” She turned and patted the back of my skirt like a football player after a huddle. “Now go fix yourself up and get back to class. You know your man is back there waiting on you—”

“Will you hush?” I flicked Zeely’s shoulder, looking around to see if anyone was listening. Miss Thelma had leaned over so far that she could have flossed my teeth. One thing about schools, gossip travels like fire. I’d been burned by enough of it. “I have a meeting with Joyce, if you must know, and no one is waiting for me. Trust me.”