Chapter 2- Confessions

Mrs. Crowley never sat down with a student like this. She always stood or sat at her desk, she was always professional and held herself with great confidence. But as I looked at her now, her carefully constructed facade crumbled. She looked exhausted and had dark bags under her eyes. She removed her glasses and rubbed the bridge of her nose before speaking.

“Aaron, I know you’re a good student, and you hardly ever miss an assignment. This isn’t like you. Over the past few weeks I’ve noticed your work level has declined and you seem depressed. It there anything happening outside of school that I should know about?” She asked, sounding genuinely concerned. I realized I had been staring down at my lap the entire time, and looked up. Mrs. Crowley was looking directly into my eyes, the professional look gone, concern etched into her face. She looked like a caring mother, something I hadn’t seen from my own mother in over 3 years. I must have had a stunned look on my face because her face softened even more and she gently laid her hand on my knee.

“You can tell me anything that’s bothering you Aaron, I hope you know that,” she murmured. Swallowing the lump that had formed in my throat, I cleared my throat a few times, trying to decide if I really wanted to tell her the truth. She would be the first person I’ve ever told about my past.

Slowly taking a deep breath, I slowly explained how Dad had left us when Rose and I were really young. I struggled to tell her how he left because Mom was pregnant, and barely choked out the miscarriage that happened soon after. I slowly composed myself and explained how Mom could never hold down a stable job, and cycled through many boyfriends in the first years after dad left. I then proudly told her how Mom eventually landed a great job at a financial corporation and how well off we were for a few years, but our happy family soon fell apart when the corporation closed down, and Mom lost her job. Mom had turned to alcohol soon after that, to try to block out the pain, I slowly explained.

Whenever I stumbled or slowed during my story, Mrs. Crowley would comfort me and gently urge me on. After a while, words started to pour from me, like someone had turned on a tap. Emotions and memories can pouring forth and I was unable to stop them. Mrs. Crowley never interrupted, and she was so easy to talk to. Years worth of bottled up feelings came boiling to the surface, and I unloaded them all into Mrs. Crowley’s lap.

In response to Mrs. Crowley puzzled look, I explained how my mysterious Dad always paid for our school tuition here, but refused so send any money, or pay child support. When I finally finished explaining how Mom had had another “episode” last night, Mrs. Crowley silently nodded and I saw her quickly brush tears from her eyes. I glanced at the clock, and noticed that I had talked through almost four bells, missing lunch time. My growling stomach pierced the silence, seeming to rouse Mrs. Crowley from her shocked silence. She stood up shakily and smoothed her skirt down. Her eyes were rimmed with red, and she was wiping her nose on the sleeve of her shirt.

“You can stay here for the rest of the day if you’d like. I can’t imagine having to recount that, then trying to continue your day...” She trailed off. She seemed shocked by my story, but quickly regained her composure.

“I’ll email your other teachers and explain that you needed to talk with me today. I’m sure they will understand. I can also ask for your assignments, if you’d like?”

“Yes, thank you, that’d be great if you could do that. I really appreciate you listening to me,” I said. “I haven’t told anyone that before, and it kind of feels great to have it off of my chest.”

“You’re welcome, Aaron. Just remember that I’m here if you need anything,” she stated, her voice ragged. I glanced up at her to see her rubbing her eyes, still shocked. I had tried to keep my story dry and to the point, keeping out the most graphic parts, but I knew more had spilled out than I was comfortable with.

“Do you care if I eat my lunch here as well, Mrs. Crowley?” I hesitantly asked. She nodded and flopped into her chair. She seemed more stressed than I had ever seen her. It scared me to see her, the model of strength and composure, so distressed.

“I didn’t scare you, did I?” I asked, dreading the response.

“No, I just feel so terrible for you. That must have been terrible, especially to keep it bottled up for so long. I don’t think I could have gone through all that, and still function as well as you do. You really are amazing, I hope you know that, Aaron.”

I felt my face grow hot and I quickly looked away.

“Thanks,” I mumbled, bending down to pull out a brown bag containing my lunch. It was crushed, as I had packed it late last night, and had thrown a pile of notebook on it this morning. I bit into my dry peanut butter and jelly sandwich and wiped my mouth on my hand. Looking towards Mrs. Crowley, I saw she was engrossed in her computer. I pulled out Maximum Ride, and time flew. I was pulled from my fantasy world when the final bell rang. Standing up, I noticed that Mrs. Crowley was gone. Pulling on my backpack, I steeled myself for the long trudge to my bus.

After pushing through throngs of people, I reached my bus and flopped into the back seat, only then noticing my exhaustion. Rose bounced the bus and quickly struck up a conversation with Roxie. As the bus jerked away from the curb, I felt my eyes droop closed. I leaned my head against the cool window and settled in for the long ride to our house; located well outside of the school district. The last thing I heard was a peal of laughter coming from Rose.