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M chuckled. “Did you not see the degrees, dead cousin? I had journeyed to this school for the purpose of assessing the state of education in the Harlem school system and then. . .Felicity. Well. . .I thought that was my assignment. . .my life. . .”
Pavel and I exchanged glances.
“But here’s the thing. As I am doing this. . .assessment.” M raised one finger. “Sometimes, I don’t remember what happens in class. It’s like there are gaps in my day, missing pieces of a puzzle. My notes are in an odd handwriting and I don’t remember writing them.”
I quirked my brows. “Who do you think made those notes?”
“It could have been the original or the little girl. Amber would not have been in class. She only appeared for. . .him.”
I gritted my teeth.
“Regardless. . .Lunita and Emily had not been born yet.” M turned to one of the chalkboards.
And it was there that I realized that M had dedicated this whole board to Felicity. There were even several hearts with the name Felicity written in the center, and a drawing of a middle aged woman with a graying brown bun.
Oh no. This was their teacher.
“Felicity was nice to me. She told me many times that I was her best student.” M winked at me. “And we know what she truly meant.”
“What?”
“That Felicity desired me as much as I yearned for her.” M touched his chest. “I. . .craved her. But. . .sometimes, when she looked at me, her eyes were also sad, like she knew something I didn’t.”
I glanced at one of the poems he had written for her. “Do you think she knew that you had other personalities?”
“I wanted to ask her about my missed moments. But. . .I feared that she would look at me differently. Stop smiling at me?”
In that moment, Lunita walked in and glared. “Why would you ask him, nasty lion?”
M continued as if he had no idea Lunita came in, “So, I kept it all inside, the confusion, the lost time. And every time I walked into social studies, my heart skipped a beat.”
Lunita scowled at M. “Alright. No more. I don’t like this story.”
I looked at her. “Why not?”
She hugged herself. “It makes me uncomfortable. Stop him from talking about this.”
M went to the chalkboard and picked up a piece of chalk. “One day, I had this plan. I was convinced it was the right day to tell Felicity, to say those heavy words that seemed too big for my heart.”
Lunita edged back. “Stop it.”
“I remember walking into class, my palms were sweaty, my heart thumping like a drum in a parade. Those damn kids who were always in the class with me, were noisy, but on this day. . .it was like they were miles away, their laughter and chatter just a background hum.” M held the piece of chalk between his steady fingers.
As he pressed it against the blackboard, the screech of chalk on the surface filled the room.
Lunita covered her ears and twisted her face in disgust.
“After class, I waited for those stupid kids to leave.” He began drawing a single curved line over the dusty, word-filled board. “Then, I went over to Felicity, and she looked up from her desk. Our eyes locked.”
Lunita dropped her hands.
“Then. . .I confessed it all to Felicity. My feelings. My love. I told her that she was more beautiful than all the stars in the sky. I told her that I was the man of her dreams, the one she had been waiting for all her life—”
“I want to crawl into a hole and disappear forever.” Lunita shook her head. “And everyone thinks I am the crazy one.”
I frowned at her. “Stop interrupting M. This is his story.”
“Thank you, Kazimir.” M began drawing a blooming rose at the top of the curved line he’d drawn. “As I confessed my love, Felicity’s face changed. It was like watching a cloud pass over the sun.”
