She still remembers a camping trip to the Adirondacks with her Girl Scout troop. They gathered around a campfire, perched on a rain-soaked log as the stars basked the pine trees in a luminous glow. The moonlight created shadows on their young faces that danced as they giggled.
Right before they had to split into groups to see who could find the most constellations, each little girl had to say what made them the happiest and then what their biggest fear was. They started with lighthearted answers, like cozy blankets and bedtime stories. Then, their fears ventured into the dark, spiders, and the thought of growing up and leaving their mothers.
As night ticked on and the laughter died down, it was Julia’s turn to share. She knew she was different, but she was okay with that, even then. She didn’t want to be traditional or ordinary. She wanted to be extraordinary. She wanted a life other than the one she was given.
With her bedtime book tucked beneath her leg, she told them her biggest fear was ignorance. She watched as the eyes of each girl squinted with confusion as the adults intriguingly widened. All Julia could do was laugh at the irony–laugh at the fact that she was so misunderstood when she probably understood more than all of them. That was her, though, always the one who was more interested in understanding rather than being understood.
“I can help you with a plan,” Erin offered, “if you’re interested.”
“Thank you.” Julia couldn’t help but smile back. “That would be really kind.”
“It’s kind of my job.”
“I thought your job was to report?”
“It is, but somehow I got this far in my career. So, I must know something.”
And she did. Her mind worked in such an analytic way, something Julia could never do. Julia focused on the people, on the outcomes of situations and how they affected others. It suited her well; it helped her be a better educator and administrator.
Erin, on the other hand, focused on the numbers that produced the best outcomes. She balanced the financial aspects with the actual results each action would have on the students. She peeled away the layers of each situation like a blooming onion, finding what laid beneath it all.
They scoured over reports and best practices for hours. Erin leaned over Julia’s desk, the sun setting over the tree line in the window behind her, lighting her face in hues of orange and pink. Julia could sit in that chair and watch her scour over analytics–allow the world to disappear as they laughed over absolutely nothing–any day, anywhere, anytime.
They had a great start to an improvement plan. The new Chemistry teacher would submit her curriculum weekly, and students would be assessed throughout the semester to ensure they were retaining the information. It wasn’t an assessment-based goal, even though raising the exam scores was a necessity; it was student focused to ensure that they actually understood the information and could use it later.
Julia marveled at the brilliance of the plan, realizing she wouldn’t have conceived half of it without Erin’s expertise. Erin took the lead in developing a comprehensive timeline, setting benchmarks for evaluating both the teacher’s performance and the students’ progress leading up to the regents. It was brilliant, preventing any issues before they even arose. It was Erin’s brilliant mind that saved her, in more ways than one.
As Erin leaned back in her chair, setting down her pen on the desk, a sense of relief washed over both of them. Julia, sinking into the back of her chair, rubbed her eyes wearily.
“I think we have a great plan,” Erin stated, her voice filled with confidence.
“I couldn’t agree more.”
She couldn’t stop admiring Erin. She was utterly speechless. It’d been such a long day, such a long week. Everything seemed to crash down at once, but there was Erin to help her bear the weight.
Julia glanced at the piles of budget approvals that still awaited her attention. For the first time in a long time, she realized she didn’t want to take them home. She’d rather walk through her front door and fall into a heap onto the couch covered in a fluffy blanket–HGTV playing in the background–while sipping on pinot grigio instead of staring at a computer screen. Work suddenly felt like a distraction she didn’t want, and that was a strange feeling.
“Are you not happy with it?” Erin asked, her head tilted to the side like she always did when she was in thought.
“No, that’s not it at all.” Julia forced a small smile. “I mean, yes. The plan is amazing, something tangible and definitely reasonable. It holds us accountable. Thank you for your help.”
“You’re welcome. You just seem–” she trailed off as her gaze flickered towards the window, not finishing her thought. How can she see what’s beneath?
“I seem?”
Erin’s expression shifted. “Never mind.”
Even in the dimness of that office with only two windows in the whole room, she glowed. Julia caught herself giving her one of those stupid smiles–the type that would escape from the fortress she built when she thought no one was looking.
It should’ve been embarrassing. They should’ve pulled their eyes away–especially Julia, who fought so hard to squash all the feelings that kept trying to poke through thin ice–but they sat there staring into each other’s eyes, completely tantalized in absolutely nothing.
Julia broke the spell, averting her gaze and busying herself with gathering her hair into a clip from her desk drawer. She needed to regain control, to push aside the thoughts and feelings that threatened to surface. But that was difficult when she had to consciously not think about Erin. To not picture her at The Tipsy Hatter, her perfect waves tangled in her hands as she sipped her drink. She had to stop herself from smiling when she heard her laugh, stop herself from watching her walk away.
Closing her planner, Julia glanced up only to find Erin still looking at her with that gorgeous smile; unashamed and unbothered. It still boggled her mind how she was so unapologetically confident, unapologetically her. She didn’t try to make herself be small, didn’t try to fit into anyone’s box. She was all her own–a porcelain doll on the very top shelf of a glass case–to be admired but never held.
“What?” grinned Julia, completely embarrassed at the thought of those eyes scrutinizing her that long.
What could Erin possibly see that she couldn’t? What did she find so interesting in Julia’s pale complexion and messy bun?