I teach sixth graders by day and write anonymously for a local news column by night. I’ve never told anyone in my family that I’m a writer. My best friend La doesn’t even know. While I don’t think my family would judge me, in fact they’d be elated, it seems cliche to me. Following in the footsteps of my parents. Not charting my own path. Which I guess is why I teach, and of course because I love those kids.
It’s been weeks since I’ve written anything anyway; every time I sit down at my laptop the cursor just blinks back at me. But when I do write, when the words do finally come, my column is mostly an exploration of love. What it means, what it means to be in love. When you think about it, love is all there is and maybe that’s why the world can be so dark, because so many of us are missing it.
The kids I teach are barely twelve but already have crushes, already know heartbreak. I’d like to think that our job as educators, elders, mentors, role models is to help soften that blow. Not like Mr. Simmons from room 16 though, tells them kids way too much of his business.
“Ms. Marley, you gon’ hand us our diplomas at graduation like you did for the sixth graders last year?” One of the newer students, Matthew, asks while hanging off of the shoulder of one of the twins, Tariq. All the kids pour into the classroom while I use a couple paper towels to soak up some tea I spilled.
“Yeah, why?” I say, tossing a glob of wet paper towel into the trash. “Aht aht, hang up your backpack Layla.” The corner of my eye spotted Layla’s backpack missing the whole hook and clunking down onto the floor. If I didn’t say anything she would have been right at her desk like nothing ever happened.
“Just asking cause we don’t like the other teachers, they don’t be knowing how to pronounce our names right,” Tariq says.
I chuckle. “While I appreciate how eager y’all are to get to the finish line, you gotta run the race first.”
I point to their seats. They spin around and shove each other all the way to their desks.
“How many of you still have those back to school night invitations sitting in your backpacks because you forgot to show your parents and guardians?” I raise my eyebrows and rest my hand on my hip. A scramble of kids’ excuses buzz through the bright room.
“If you can hear me…” I yell above the noise.
“Stomp once!” they respond and stomp.
“If you can hear me…”
“Stomp twice!” Two stomps rumble the floor.
“Get your journals out and let’s go.”
They pull their journals from the slits in their desks and prepare to take notes.
____________
When I get home my parents are glaring at each other like teenagers scared to introduce themselves to each other at a concert.
“Can y’all please stop staring at each other, you do this every single day. Y’all ain’t tired of it yet?” I kick off my shoes.
“How you know what we doing?” Mama says from behind her book.
“Mama, that book ain’t hiding nothing.”
Daddy clears his throat. “I told you baby, Monique Brown is my soulmate, ain’t no life where I don’t get to look at her.”
Mama blushes so hard I think even the book is turning plum purple.
“How was my daughter’s day?” Mama asks, climbing up from her chair.
Daddy smacks her butt as she walks past him and I roll my eyes. Me and Mama walk side by side into the kitchen.
“Yeah, how was it?” Daddy yells from the living room.
I hear the TV turn down as he listens for me to talk. “It was good,” I yell. “I guess I just keep wondering if this is it for me,” I say just to Mama now.
I pull the fridge open and look for nothing in particular. Mama leans against the counter and doesn’t speak. I know she’s listening.
“I guess a piece of me feels a little empty. Like I’m twenty eight now, I wanna be married like you and Daddy and maybe have some kids. You and Daddy were already married and had May May by my age.”
Mama chuckles. “Well May May was an accident…don’t tell her I said that…and so what? You are a totally different person, this is a different time. You can’t compare yourself to other people, Marley.”
“But y’all not other people, y’all my Mama and daddy.” I snatch a packet of string cheese out the fridge and tear it open.
“Girl, and before we were your parents, we were just people. Besides…I know another way you can make yourself useful.” She raises an eyebrow.
“Mama, no,” I grumble. I know she’s about to ask me to cook something.
“Please, Mar Mar…”
“Mama, you have literally been having me cook like every night since I’ve been back home. I need to be paid for this at this point.” I drop a piece of string cheese that isn’t really stringy, into my mouth.
She gives me the silent stare that tells me that she is waiting for my answer to change.
“Okay Mama, I’ll cook.”
She snickers.
“What y’all want?” I ask.
“Already made it easy for you,” She shuffles over to the fridge and pulls out fresh fish.
“This and something else please. And make it in the air fryer cause it’s a no grease day for your daddy.” She kisses me on my cheek and heads back into the living room.
“Where May May and Bash?” I ask, tossing the pack of fish around in my hand, seeing how heavy it is.
“Sebastian went to pick up your sister from some day party she went to in San Mateo.”
I nod and walk down the hall to the bathroom, catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror as I reach for the soap. Once my hands are washed and dried I brush away a thick line of chalk from across the midsection of my T shirt.
Here I am, back in my mama and daddy’s house, looking in the same mirror I would stare in as a child. I’ve been living back with Mama and Daddy for a year now. My last place got too expensive after I had broken up with my ex of three years. He showed up in his auntie’s car one day to take me to pick up mine from the shop, it only took me three weeks to realize his auntie’s car was really his other girlfriend’s car.
Mama says this is all a transition for me. I’ll be happy when the transition is over.
“OMG is Marley finna cook?” I hear May May yell. Her and Sebastian’s shoes tumble onto the floor. Sebastian’s voice comes in right behind her on the phone, managing some crises at his salon.
“Marley cookin’?” I hear him say.
A smile jerks onto my face.
“Yeah, y’all gon’ help me this time?”
“Nope.” They say at the same time.
Maleah and Sebastian are my older sister and brother. He’s two years older than me, she’s three. They are ace boon coons, stuck to each other like twins and are equally “protective” of me. Mama and Daddy say protective, I call it obsession. Always in my business. I just got them to agree not to find my ex and break his ankles.
“Mar Mar!” May May yells and Sebastian follows when I emerge from the bathroom. They each wrap their arms around me until I cough in their faces.
“Man, c’mon Marley.” Sebastian says and picks up another phone call.
He owns a hair salon, not because he does hair or knows anything remotely close to doing hair, he just used to clean up this old lady’s house every other weekend and when she died, she left him the salon. Me and May May would definitely argue that he was giving that old lady way more than a clean house. Of course he emphatically denies it. Here he goes picking up that phone again. The shop stresses him out so much, every other day it’s something else going on at that place.
We never saw our parents stressing over a job though, never heard them fight or complain about finances either. The house ain’t the biggest house on the block, but they own it. Mama and Daddy said that when they met each other and started to talk about life and a future, they both wanted flexibility, they didn’t want to hold down jobs that would require 9-5 every day. So they never did. Daddy works as a chef. Started a business teaching cooking classes. Mama works as a freelance editor and wrote like sixteen books. Somebody is always flying her out asking her to come speak somewhere.
So regardless of the stress, Bash is just happy that he finally has a job where he doesn’t have to show up to work unless he wants to. May May hardly ever has a job though, and she never moved out. I ain’t judging either. I wish nobody had to work ever. Just be cute, be happy, have great sex, eat good food, stay healthy, and love each other. Money fucks up everything.
I guess I’ll just do some garlic mash and string beans to go with this fish, and if I feel like it. I might throw in some lemon bars. May May might be having her dude come over, and we all know he eats like a grizzly bear. And so does Sirrena, Bash’s girl, who I’m sure is coming over too, to tell everybody about how shitty her job is.
“May, pass me one of them lemon bars,” Daddy says as we cram around the dinner table.
Steam spirals in the air and Bash uncovers the green beans. May May, who is fully engaged in a messy side conversation with Sirrena, reaches in front of herself and grabs a lemon bar and, without looking, passes it to Daddy. He almost inhales the whole thing and keeps flirting with Mama with crumbs falling onto his lap. Mama brushes them off his chin and he caresses her arm with his thumb. These instances of affection feel almost choreographed, they’re so in sync.
Bash and May May’s boyfriend look stuffed as they lean back in their seats, scrolling through their phones and mindlessly taking bites of the little food left on their plates. Every day is like Sunday over here.
“Oh Marley,” Sirrena cuts through, “I meant to tell you, I saw Naeem the other day at Nike outlet. Did you know he moved back?”
The inside of me shook at the same time our eyes met.
“No, I didn’t know.”
“Naeem is back?” Bash asks, looking at Sirrena but kicking my foot under the table.
“That’s cool.” I nod and scoop up the last bit of mashed potatoes from my plate.
“That’s the one that got away.” May May whispers to her boyfriend.
Everybody seems to pause their conversations, and I can feel all the eyes crowding around me, waiting for something else to slip out of my mouth. But I figure if I don’t make eye contact with Sirrena, everyone will forget she ever brought him up.
“Mar,” Daddy says.
“Huh?”
“You’re scraping the plate, baby.”
“Oh.” I drop the fork onto the plate. “Sorry, Daddy.” I walk it into the kitchen. The plate and fork clunk into the dish water.
“And he was with the cutest little boy. Looks just like him, I think it must have been his son.”
I pretend not to hear it, but my stomach tugs.
“A son?” Bash says hella loud.
My heart is fluttering like it has words it would like to say, and I stand there breathing in and out trying my best to silence it. Waiting for someone to change the subject, so this wave will subside. Finally it does, but it is all I can think about the next day.
___________
It’s Back to School night so I try to get it together and focus. I’m always excited to meet my kids’ parents, answer all their questions, but even better, Back to School nights are also minimum days. I love them kids, but I love quitting time too. Today I’m supposed to meet up with La at our favorite Mexican spot after. I miss her so much. She’s my best friend and I haven’t seen her since she broke up with her girlfriend last year. It’s never good when we go a while without seeing each other because we can’t always be trusted to make the best decisions between break ups.
“Students, please remember that Back to School night is tonight. Whose parents will be coming?”
Half the class’s hands go flying in the air.
“And the rest of y’all?”
They all talk at once.
“All right, all right. I’ll have the office send another robocall, but when you get home please remind them that I will not be staying past 6:30pm tonight.”
“Oooh Ms. Marley got a date!” Samuel yells. The whole class erupts into ooohs.
“What do you know about a date, Samuel?”
“I know that if you get a girl flowers, they gon’ tell everybody,” he says, “then all the other girls gon’ think you’re that guy.” He pops his collar, not lacking a lick of confidence.
“Okay, ‘that guy’ time for Social Studies.”
The class goes hush and begins their silent reading. My phone vibrates.
Teeth: Hey hey
Me: Hey, what’s up?
I call him Teeth because when we met, I noticed that he had good teeth. I can’t even say for sure that I know his real name.
Teeth: Can I come get you today?
Me: Ah, I’m sorry. I’m working late tonight, then meeting up with La. Maybe Saturday?
Teeth: I haven’t seen you in like two weeks, I miss you.
Teeth: But, I also know you ain’t seen La in like a month, so I get it. Enjoy yourself. I have time on Saturday, just let me know.
That’s why I like Teeth, he always says the first thing that comes to his mind, there are no pauses in between. I always know what I’m getting with him, plus, he gets it.
Me: I miss you too… Both of you…
Teeth: Girl, you betta stop before I pull up.
Me: I got like two hours before this back to school night starts, what’s up?
Teeth: Now Marley…
Me: Haha, <3 See you Saturday
Teeth: Okay, also, I ordered you a tea..
I grin and within seconds an office assistant is walking in with tea from one of my favorite tea spots.
Me: omg, so sweet. Thank you.”
I flip my phone over face down on my desk, and sip the tea.
Two hours come and go and I take a final look around my room. Student’s Who I am” posters adorn the walls, their desks are stacked with information sheets about the class. I have the Powerpoint queued up on the white board behind me as I wait for the room to fill with parents. A couple minutes after 5:30 parents start to pile in. I point to the refreshments and help them find their student’s desks. Some of my students pop in and out, running around with friends.
“Any questions?” I ask at the end of the Powerpoint. Most parent faces are looking down into their information sheets.
“I came in a little bit late. Can you go over that part about supplies again?”
The moment I hear the voice I look up, and he does too. His eyebrows raise and make creases in his forehead. I choke on the next words I mean to say.
“Uh, um. Yeah, it’s on…if you flip it over you should see it there. Most supplies I’ve already gotten for them, but the other ones are there.” The air feels like it is sucking out of the room. I look over at the Powerpoint and straighten my blazer up on my shoulders.
“Well, if there is nothing else, I just wanted to say I love your students. I taught most of them last year in fifth grade and I look forward to teaching them again and working with you all this year. Please reach out if you have any more questions.”
Chairs scoot and parents grab more refreshments as they leave. The crowd moves around him and I pretend to stack papers on my desk.
“Hi,” he says. A smile brightens his eyes.
I lean a hand onto my desk, maybe to keep my balance. “Hey, Naeem. What are you doing here?” My eyes bounce from his lips to his eyes and repeat.
“My son.” He points his thumb to the seat he was in.
“Matthew?” My eyes widen and I think I said that much louder than I meant to.
“Yeah, that’s my son. You never noticed the resemblance?” He rubs the back of his neck. “Everybody says he looks just like me.”
I’m stunned. “No, I…I hadn’t even realized.”
He still looks the same except he had a fro in middle school and locs in high school. Now short thick curls sit on the top of his head, his line is fresh and tapered on the sides. He has peach fuzz all over his chin and a thin mustache. His bottom lip is still just a little more plump than the top. He’s wearing jeans and a long sleeve black sweater.
“How you been?” His hand extends toward me, and the sun gleams onto the ring around his finger.
I realize I’m staring at it and pull my eyes back up to his face.
“I’ve been good, just teaching…your son apparently.” I giggle and fix my blazer on my shoulders again. “I thought you moved to Texas or something? I thought I heard that somewhere.”
“Yeah,” he pushes his hands into his pockets, “I was out there for a minute. That’s where Matthew was born.”
“Oh.” I drop my hand from my hip to my desk and a stack of ungraded assignments scatter across the floor.
“Let me help you.”
“Oh no it’s—”
“You still never let anybody help huh?” He jokes as we scoop up the papers.
“You talking about that time?” I smile with an open mouth. He lowers his head as he grins. “I can’t believe you still remember that.” A pause cuts between us. “I’ve changed.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah, even though I knew then and still know now, how to change a tire…I’m more willing to let people help, if I need it.”
We pull the papers back onto the table.
“Aw, man. I was hoping you were gonna say you hadn’t changed, and that you’re still the Marley I remember.” His hands go in his pockets again and he looks down into my eyes.
“That’s life right? We change and grow.”
I stand up and place the papers on my desk. My eyes land on the tea and my mind plays an image of who bought it. Almost as if to remind me that Naeem is my past, and past is all he’ll ever be.
“Yeah, I guess it is,” he says.
I’ve imagined in my head what another encounter with him would be like, and I never thought that I would be spending the time wondering if Mama or Daddy ever had a “One that got away.” Maybe that’s what scares me about marriage, the idea that there could still be another person that would have been.
I hear feet tapping fast, coming toward my door.
“Daddy are we leaving yet?” Matthew pokes his little curly head in, his hands cling to the frame of the door and his backpack slides down his arm. “Bye Ms. Marley!” he yells before taking off.
“Bye… Ms. Marley. It was really good to see you.” Naeem says.
I nod and smile. “Bye.”
He backs away from me and a breeze sweeps through the window, chills crawl up my arms. I fix my lips to speak again but nothing comes out.
Later after dinner with La, those words found their way onto the page in the form of my next column post.
The Missed Education of Love and Relationships:
By : Anonymous
My perceptions of relationships and subsequently my column postings had been made up of a series of thoughts around relationships that I wished were more like my Mama and Daddy’s. But maybe some relationships are only meant to make good stories, and the problem we love seeking humans face, is the wisdom to know when it’s time for those stories to Begin, or pause, or rewind, or end……
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