Thanks for all the comments and emails for the first two chapters. I hope many of the readers are interested enough to follow the story through to the end and continue to send me their thoughts."
Chapter 3
16 years ago
Alan sat in the classroom by himself waiting. He hated feeling anxious but he was just that. Only for her, though. He'd never feel that way for anybody else, he determined.
Ms.Jennings entered the classroom smiling warmly. She didn't go behind her desk but instead took a seat beside Alan.
She looked at him like she was contemplating a cloud, gently and wistfully. Clasping her hands together on her lap, she leaned forward and said, "Alan? I'm a little concerned. You seem a bit distracted in class."
Alan's eyes shifted around her face. Her wavy light brunette hair glowed from the afternoon sunlight as it settled around her shoulders.
"I know you're very smart," the teacher continued, "You're extremely creative. Someone that good with his hands is just flowing with talent and intelligence. You're just not focused."
His eyes drifted below her chin to her neck.
"Alan? The poetry and the wonderful drawings that you do," she said carefully, "I want to thank you for them."
They were stupid, Alan thought. Overtly ham-fisted clumsy attempts to express himself to this woman. There was no depth to them, no sense of how desperate he was for her. They were stunted displays that couldn't begin to demonstrate the lengths he would go for her.
"But I can't accept them," Ms.Jennings said.
Of course she wouldn't. What kind of woman would accept gifts like that? It made his chest hurt knowing how imbecilic he was behaving. He bit his inner lip until he drew blood.
"Where did you get that? It's very nice," he said, his steady voice betraying little of the wretched turmoil within.
"What?" Ms.Jennings blinked. She followed his lowered gaze to the top of her chest. She picked up a locket-pendant hanging around her neck, silver engraved with her initials: 'S' and 'J' for Sheryl Jennings. The letters were separated in the middle by a treble clef. Ms.Jennings loved classical music. "Thank you. It was a gift from a friend," she said.
Alan looked back up and into her eyes. His gaze was suddenly unwavering.
"It's not because I don't like your poetry or drawings, Alan," she continued, "It's because you don't need to give them to me. I think you're so special already. As my student, you and everyone else in this class are special to me."
Alan rose from his chair. He looked out the window, the western sun casting an orange glow on his face. "So that means none of us are special," he said.
Then he turned and walked out of the classroom.
Ms.Jennings called out to him in a soft, pleading voice but he continued to walk away from her. Every step stabbed at his heart like a knife.
**********
Alan worked on the outside of the shack the following morning after the school picnic and the night at Duffy's. He was there at the crack of dawn putting up siding on the outer walls and tarp on the roof.
He was supposed to go over to Teri's house at some point and work on her roof, but he figured he would give her a late morning start after the night she had with Greg. He paused to think about that, how things turned out, his slight miscalculation with Greg. In a way, he had underestimated the guy. Still, it worked out okay. He never entered the house, never showed his face. There was no need.
He went back to working on the shack. There was a thought nagging him at the back of his mind as to why he needed to fix up the little shack so much. A few 2-by-4's and some nails would have been enough. Maybe it was just a distracting project for him to restore it a bit, make it presentable...usable.
He made his way around to the side and examined one of the windows he had installed earlier. He peeked in through the window. Standing still, his eyes relaxed. In his mind's eye, the shack wasn't empty. There were shifting images inside. His gaze became blurred but his mind filled in the blanks all too clearly. A stark vision flashed through his mind: bodies in a desperate, illicit embrace. He could hear their swollen passion.
Alan suddenly stepped back away from the window, breathing deeply. He looked around in a mild daze before he settled back down.
He had to get away from the shack.
*********
Teri was up early that morning which was a bit surprising to herself. The morning sunlight spilling through the windows, she shuffled around her house in her robe forcing herself to go through in her mind the bewildering events from the previous night.
In the living room, she sat down on the couch and breathed deeply. She massaged her sore wrist.
She remembered how Greg had shifted his weight off of her for one brief moment to yank off his shirt and fumble with his belt buckle. In that moment, she was able to slip her leg between his thighs and drive her knee hard into his crotch.
Greg's face had instantly gone red and purple as his eyes rolled up into his head and he tumbled over the side of the couch like a felled tree, groaning in agony and cupping his crotch. He coughed, tears streaming down his face as he squeezed his eyes tight.
As he writhed on the floor, Teri was able to keep it together long enough to grab a sweater to cover herself and button up her pants. Then she pulled Greg to his feet. The man was deflated mentally and physically and he had offered as much resistance as a feather in the wind as she guided him to the door.
"Sorry. I'm sorry, Teri," he croaked, still unable to regain his breath, as he stumbled ahead doubled-over.
"Shut up. Shut up," she just muttered over and over, trying to shut him out of her head.
Both of them just repeated their abbreviated lines as she led him to his car and dumped him in. Then she went back into the house without looking back and slammed the door shut.
Eventually she had heard his car pull away and she went to her bed and hid under her covers until she fell asleep.
Now in the morning, sitting there quietly, she could see several of her buttons from her blouse scattered on the rug. She slipped off from her seat on the couch and knelt on the floor to pick them up. Looking at them in her hand, she felt like crying but wouldn't allow it. She hadn't done so at all since the incident.
"Stupid!" she spat as she flung the buttons across the floor. Why did he have to go and do that? "Stupid! Stupid!"
Climbing to her feet, she walked into the kitchen. There was a message on the answering machine.
"Hi Teri,"
a ragged voice eked softly
"It's Greg. I, uh, made it home last night..."
She hit the 'stop' button then 'erase'. As far as she was concerned, the only thing she needed to hear was that he didn't splatter himself all over the highway after she had sent him home in that condition.
Anything else he had to say, he could say it in hell.
Turning to her fridge, she suddenly stopped when she heard an engine pull up on her driveway. She went to the living room window and looked outside.
Alan was unloading his gear from the back of his truck when he noticed Teri step out onto her porch. He was surprised to see her up already.