Chapter 5

Driving home the music is too much to handle, every instrument ringing perfectly in my ear, my ear drum vibrating out the heavy bass, the headlights painting the road in front of me, each yellow center divider being swallowed by my car as it speeds on, the grape soda fizzing down my throat, the music blasting, the frost floating by laced in the fog, my brain taking everything in at once, noting words and phrases randomly being whispered, my eyes watching the road and everything around it, a cat runs in front of the car and my heart drops but my foot stays glued to the accelerator.

The moon is bright now, seemingly almost as bright as the sun, because everything in the cold sky is visible. I pull over to the side of the road and get out, the frigid air welcoming my body, and I breathe. Breathing is the most phenomenal natural high, I suddenly realize, standing on the side of the road, watching the cars drive by, warm exhaust blowing in my face like a fake fire, and once the exhaust is out of the air I breathe in more of Decembers oxygen.

I take swig off of the grape soda and an orgy of flavor dances around my tongue, I feel acidic grape burn away my enamel, and after savoring it in the pocket of my mouth I swallow, the soda sliding its way down my throat and into the core of my stomach, and I laugh at how f*****g good it tastes.

My car is parked about a mile from my house, and I notice that the high school is up the street, I can see the sign behind the brush of some trees, obscuring the giant lettering that very formally states, Washington High School. Thoughts form behind my eyes. Tomorrow morning I have to be back in that classroom with all those ungrateful little b******s, ungrateful because they have no idea how many s***s I do not give whatsoever because of the fact that I am a lazy son of a b***h who passes all of them even though the majority of the don't do s**t.

Occasionally I will actually try to teach them about the relevancy of words, and literature, but I get overly frustrated with the fact that their only priority is their cell phones. Practically every single one of them is having a personal conversation in their lap or under the desk with someone in another room. Their hands in their pockets, thumbs chattering away. Its really sad. Its the epidemic of the 21st century, and no one even realizes it because their to busy updating their relationship status to, Its Complicated. Get over yourself. 

The only student of mine who I can think of who doesn't focus on his cellphone during class is Sean Smith. A very bright boy, Sean is one of my only students who I like, who I can relate too. He has that look on his face that says, Everybody but me is a f*****g stupid a*****e. Sean lives next door to me with his mother Fay Smith, a mid thirties single mother who is constantly photographing everything. The inside of her house is photographs, everywhere. In college I remember she carried around a giant camera strapped around her neck that hung in the comfort of her chest. She has been taking pictures as long as I have known her. In fact she has more pictures of me and my family than I do. 

Fay Smith and I share a secret that absolutely only exists between us, and hasn't been mentioned in years, even though I see that secret in the mornings as he breathes in the cold December air and ride off down Simpson Street on his bike to deliver newspapers. For fifteen years Fay and I have kept our mouths shut, for everyone's benefit as well as our own. We both figure it was something that was meant to happen, inevitably the universe would squeeze a child out of Fay's womb, but we never planned to have a child together.

Fay told Sean that his father died in a car accident. But in reality he lives right next door, and is his eleventh grade English teacher. Nobody knows except for me and Fay. Every month I send her a check, for however much money I can give them. Every year for Christmas and Sean's birthday I give Fay some money to buy something for him. Food, clothes, books. Whatever. Its the least I can do for not being around, for having my fatherhood saved for a different family.