41. Georgia

FORTY-ONE

Georgia

It’s Thursday, staff professional development day, so everyone files into the auditorium.

“I’m not in the mood to collaborate today,” I mutter to Emmanuel.

“Girl, same,” he assures me. “Especially not with you.”

I glance at him.

“You’ve been a bit cunty the last few weeks.” He shrugs at me, not sorry at all.

“A real bitch,” Mia agrees to his left.

“Thirded,” Tamika chimes in.

“Sorry,” I mumble. “It’s… I’m working on it.”

“Can you work a little harder, sis?” Emmanuel shoots back.

“Or faster?” Tamika adds.

Oliver walks in front of the room. “Afternoon, everyone,” he says, that voice like gravel I love so much. He looks suited, confident, stiff, gorgeous, but someone more familiar with him would notice other things. His normally tan skin is pale. He looks like he’s lost weight. Haunted. Bags under his eyes. The corners of his mouth white .

“I have an unfortunate announcement to make.”

I grip Emmanuel’s arm.

“Tomorrow will be my last day as your principal here at PS 2.”

A collective gasp around the room.

My team whirls around and stares at me.

“Superintendent Daniels feels that my leadership will be better utilized in a different, higher need District. I’m going to be the principal at PS 333, in Crown Heights. District 17. Starting Monday,” Oliver continues. His eyes find mine in the crowd, looking sad and determined.

“I wanted to take this opportunity to thank you for everything?—”

I don’t hear him over the ringing in my ears.

I pace in my classroom until the last possible moment, when I know everyone in the building is probably gone, and then I run downstairs.

I open Oliver’s door to see him packing up the books from his bookshelf, making meticulous piles in boxes that I know for a fact are in alphabetical order by author's last name.

“Hey,” I say, walking towards him.

He turns his head, and unfathomably, he smiles ( why must he be like this ), a small one, his eyes lighting up and glowing when they land on me. He walks over, seemingly to draw me in for a hug, but remembers himself and stops in front of me instead.

“What’s going on?” I ask him weakly.

“I thought a lot about what you said,” he says to the floor, poking at the ground with his shoe. “Made a lot of lists. Pros and cons. New goals. I realized I had to fix one last thing, and that would be the last of my interference in your life. I called Daniels this morning to tell him everything, to disclose the nature of our relationship, and I took full responsibility.”

“And Daniels punished you? By moving you to an entirely different school district? Like, in just two days? Isn’t that a bit much?”

“PS 333 has been without a principal for a month now. Their last one was removed, and they haven’t found a suitable replacement.”

“But you worked so hard for your promotion,” I whisper.

He shrugs. “It wasn’t that important to me after I thought about it. There are more important things,” he says, eyes drinking me in. “Also, he’s a dick. It would suck to work for him, anyway. But that doesn’t matter. What matters to me is you, Georgia. I want this, and I want it to work. Have I proven that yet?”

“You shouldn’t have to prove anything to me,” I mutter.

“Well, regardless, I’m sorry I let the promotion blind me to what was really going on with you. I heard you. I’m in a different district now. I’m no longer your boss. You have the freedom and independence to do what you want.”

I don’t know what to say.

“And this way…” he looks hopeful for a moment, “we wouldn’t have to hide anymore. Also, my new school is on the border of Prospect Heights and Crown Heights. I looked it up. It’s only a seven-minute walk from my new school to your apartment.” He smiles, but it’s missing its typical warmth. “But I’m giving you all the power now. The ball is in your court. It’s your decision. For what you, or what we do next… or even… if we do,” he finishes lamely.

A fresh wave of anxiety fills my body. “Okay.”

“I apologize for trying to fix everything. You were right. You helped me realize that fixing things doesn’ t mean smoothing it over, or controlling things so that they work for me in a neat and orderly fashion. It’s okay if it’s messy. It’s not my job to fix things at the expense of the happiness of my loved ones. I’ve done it my whole life, and now that I’ve really hurt someone,” he looks at me sadly, “I realize it needs to stop. I’m going to try my hardest.” He shifts. “It won’t be perfect, but I’m going to try. “

He takes a deep breath. “I just want you to know something.”

I stare at him, hating that I know what’s coming, and that I’m not sure I can reciprocate.

“I love you,” he tells me, breaking my heart. “You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me. You’re wondrous and magical and amazing. You’re far too much, but turns out that you’re my just right.”

I’m silent. He goes on, eyes wandering all over my face, ravenously, as if he’s been starving for it, and he wants to take it all in. “I love finding glitter in my apartment,” he begins to list. “I love waking up with your hair in my mouth. I love when I find your inane notes in my planner. I love that you’re secretly an advanced Excel user. I love that you make me live .”

He reaches a hand up towards my face, as if to touch my hair, but drops it halfway. “You don’t have to say it back to me. I’m not going to force you. I’ll never force you to do anything. But just know that I love you, and I’ll always be here for you. I’ll always have your back. You can test me and push me all you want. I’ll always pass.”

I look up at him, searching for something, negativity, or resentment maybe, a slant of his eyebrow, a furrow, a tightness in the mouth, anything. But all I see is his beautiful face, with his thick eyebrows and gorgeous eyes and freckles and crooked tooth, shining at me with something that looks a lot like love.

I cringe at the way I just tested him now. “Okay,” I whisper again, because that’s all I can manage. That’s all I can give him. At least for right now.

His face fractures then, pain etched in the lines of his eyes. He maps my face one last time, as if he’s trying to commit it to memory, looking at me as if I’m the only thing in the world that matters. He nods.

I leave.