Acting Up Read Free Page A

“Good. I knew you wouldn’t let your students down.”
    â€œI won’t, Mrs. Turney. They are my number one priority.”
    â€œOf course.” She patted his arm. “You know I hate confrontations and causing trouble for you.”
    Ethan almost laughed. Who was she kidding? Confrontations and causing trouble for him seemed to be Mrs. Turney’s number one priority.
    â€œEspecially after everything you’ve been through these last couple years,” Mrs. Turney said. “I’ve made allowances because I realize you’ve been under such tremendous strain.”
    Sympathy wrapped in a poisoned arrow. His fists clenched, and he practically bit his lip to keep from showing any reaction.
    â€œI also realize you would never do anything to jeopardize a student’s future,” Mrs. Turney continued. “Not when your own dreams of a football career were so cruelly shattered before they could be realized.”
    Ethan decided he preferred a confrontation over Mrs. Turney’s version of an apology. Being reminded of all the clogged toilets in his past did nothing to improve his state of mind.
    He nodded, unable to come up with a credible response to such a statement. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m late to pick up my sons.”
    Her eyes clouded. “Of course… those poor sweet boys. You go take care of them now, but don’t forget your duty to the school. We must find a director.”
    â€œI won’t,” he said, almost vaulting into his car.
    He pulled away fast enough to leave skid marks. Once out on the street, he called his mother.
    â€œHello, sweetheart,” she said. “Let me guess. You’re running late.” Ethan could hear the smile in her voice.
    â€œI hate doing this to you all the time,” he said.
    â€œWell, if not for the twins, I wouldn’t have an excuse to skip the ladies’ prayer meeting.”
    He winced. “Mom… I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have to miss—”
    â€œAre you kidding?” she said, laughter coming through the phone again. “Do you think I have any inclination to sit there and listen to the latest complaints about their husbands? Makes me want to stand up and yell at them that the alternative — not having a husband to complain about — is devastating.”
    â€œI understand,” Ethan said. There were days he’d give everything if it meant one more day of having Jenny’s stockings hanging in the bathtub. Or her almost OCD-like organizational tendencies in the pantry. His dad had died of a heart attack a few months before Jenny’s sudden death. He knew his mom felt the same sense of crippling loss. The certainty that nothing would ever be right in the world again. Ethan gripped the steering wheel hard enough to leave marks on his fingers.
    â€œI know you do,” his mother responded softly.
    â€œWe’re getting to be pathetic. Maybe it’s time we started dating again,” he said, throwing the idea out there as if to test the waters of his own mind. See if he drowned or rose to top.
    â€œOh, honey…” His mother breathed.
    An invisible hand clawed up his chest to latch onto his throat. “I know. Me too.”
    Another long pause. Then he took a deep breath. “I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
    â€œOkay. See you soon.”
    The call ended and the quiet seemed to fill up the car. If Jenny were here, she’d be talking a mile a minute. Telling him every detail of her classes. Which students were doing poorly, which seemed on the brink of trouble, which ones thrilled her by getting the lesson. They could discuss the boys. She would have a surefire way of getting them to eat anything labeled a vegetable. They could pray together when one of the twins suddenly developed a raging fever. They could read Bible stories and teach them about Noah and King David and Jesus himself.
    Except Jenny wasn’t here