Coda 01 - Promises

Jared, she’s awful. She’s boring. She wears too much perfume. She hates being outside and hates the mountains. She babbles through the football games. She doesn’t even know what a first down is. And she only talks about two things: how much she hates her job and how much she hates her piece of shit ex-husband.”
    “Um….” I was fighting to keep the smile off of my face.
    He was quiet for a minute but then said, “The worst part is I knew all of that going into it.” He glanced over at me. “Aren’t you going to tell me what a fucking idiot I am?”
    “Would that make you feel better?”

    He laughed without much humor and went back to picking at the label. “These last few weeks have been miserable.”

    That hit me. I was quiet for a minute, but then I managed to say quietly, “They’ve been miserable for me too.”

    “I’ve missed you.” It was barely a whisper. But when I started to reach across to him, he said, “Don’t.”
    I pulled back, feeling stricken.
“I didn’t mean it like that.” He sighed and leaned back again. “I just… I’m not ready for that yet. I just need—” He stopped, bit his lower lip, and stared at the ceiling. “I know I have no right to ask you for anything, but can I just stay here for a bit? I just….” He took a shaking breath, “I just want to be here . Please?”
    “Anything.”
    So I turned on the TV, and we nursed our beers. We mostly talked football and easily fell back into our old banter—a little more awkward than before, but it still felt great. And I watched him slowly relax, layers of tension and sadness falling away, and he even smiled once, if only for a second. Eventually, he leaned back, and within minutes, he was asleep.
    When I got up in the morning, he was gone.

    T HE next day, Ringo came into the back of the shop to get me. “Jared, Mrs. Rochester is here to see you.” I knew by his voice he was concerned about it.

    It took me a minute to place the name. “You mean, Alice Rochester?”
    “I don’t know her first name.”
“The high school principal?”
“Yes.”
    “Shit.” After the incident with the police, all but two of my students had returned with permission slips. But it seemed that wasn’t enough. Some parent had obviously called the school to complain. “Tell her I’ll be right out.” And then I spent a few seconds composing myself, getting ready for what I was sure was going to be an ugly confrontation.
    Mrs. Rochester was in her forties. She was in good shape and had on a navy blue skirt and matching jacket. “Mr. Thomas!” She was smiling when she shook my hand. She had teeth so white and perfect she could have been in toothpaste commercials. “I don’t think we’ve ever officially met before.”
    “Call me Jared.”

    “Jared. You can call me Alice.” She was still smiling. “You may not realize what a buzz you’ve created at our school.” I was annoyed at her cheerfulness but said, “I’m really sorry about that. I was just trying to help.”
    She looked a little confused. “Why are you sorry?” “You’re talking about the tutoring, right?”
    “Of course. I know this is unexpected, but I wanted to ask you if you would be willing to meet with me and a couple of the teachers, just for a few minutes?”
    “Shit.” Had I said that out loud?
“Excuse me?”
    “Nothing.” I took a deep breath and made an effort to smile. “I’m sorry. Yes, I’ll come if you think it’s important.”
    “Oh good,” she said with obvious relief. The toothpaste smile was back. “This close to Thanksgiving is crazy for everybody. How about the first Monday in December? Could you come to the school at three thirty?”
    “Sure.”
When she was gone, Ringo asked, “What was that all about?” “ That was probably the end of our tutoring sessions.”
    T WO nights later, Matt was pounding on my front door hard enough to rattle the hinges.

    “I broke up with Cherie,” he said as soon as he walked in. “Oh.” I hoped the joy those words awoke in me wasn’t too evident in my voice. “Why?”
    He glanced sideways at me, and there was anger in his eyes. “Don’t! Don’t do that. You know why.”
“Matt—”
“ No! ”
    I went silent, my heart in my throat. He was pacing back and forth, looking angrier with every pass. I was pretty sure anything I said would be the wrong thing, so I just waited. Suddenly he turned and drove his fist into the wall.
    “Feel better now?” I asked.
    “No.” He