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“The sound of your laugh is almost as good as hearing you moan,” I whisper with a wicked grin. That has her eyes snapping up to mine as she slaps my chest playfully, her cheeks pinkening.
If I get the chance to make her laugh a little every day, then all would be okay in my world.
CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN – EMILY
I stalk to the classroom like I am on fire and stop so suddenly, I almost slip and fall to the floor. Sadness sweeps through me as George and I take in the damage.
“It is all gone. Everything is now worthless.” He pushes a chair out of the way, resigned as we look at the destruction left behind. George got a call early this morning from our volunteer cleaner. She arrived on-site at six a.m. to clean the bathrooms and walked into my classroom to see it flooded, water knee-deep after a broken water pipe. The front offices are the only rooms that escaped damage.
I worked hard to make my classroom a welcoming space, where the kids could come and not only learn and be with each other, but to find solace in their life when they can’t find it anywhere else. It was where I worked with Glenda. The room was hers before she died and I took over entirely. All memories of her are now washed down the hall, and that makes my chest ache.
“I don’t understand…” I say in a whisper, my eyes glassy to the point it is hard to see. It is eerily quiet as we stand here alone and defeated. We canceled school today, and Rosie is spending the day with Allie while I help George with the mess.
I stroll around the wet classroom, looking over the disaster zone. The fire department just left, having been here for the past few hours, fixing the pipe and cleaning the water away. Now all that is left are the mushy books, lifting cheap linoleum flooring, walls blackened by water marks, and my drenched files. Mud, slush, and debris is everywhere we look.
None of that matters in comparison to seeing all of Rosie’s braille books and art paper damaged. Ruined, no longer usable. The kids’ workbooks, special art supplies, the phonics and decodable readers for my dyslexic children, and the custom signing chart I had made for the entire class to start learning more about how to support Michael… all of it is gone.
“They want the land. They will stop at nothing,” George spits out. He is angry, and I don’t blame him. The fire department was pretty clear that the pipe had been tampered with and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out who would be responsible. But with no proof, we just have to live with the damage, not able to recoup a thing or hold anyone responsible.
“But look at Rosie’s books!” Tears run over onto my cheeks, as I can’t hold them back. These things cost money. A lot of money. Many took me hours to source, create, and develop. Not to mention, the time and stress to apply for grants and funding. I feel at a total loss.
I look down, seeing Rosie’s new braille pen on the floor, now broken. It took me forever to save for it. Something I really wanted her to have and start using. While she has some books and things at home, we kept most of her collection here.
And now most of it is gone.
My phone rings, and grabbing it, I see that it is Ben. I decline his call. My heart is shattered. He is the last person I want to speak to right now, but also the only one. The need I have to melt into his embrace is startling. Yet he is the enemy. Not that any of this is his fault. He would never condone this, I know that. But as my sadness gives way to fury, and he and his clients are where I am directing my rath.
Pick you up at 7, Em?
His text comes through, and I stare at it through my tears. We have a date night planned for tonight. No doubt dinner somewhere swanky, so he can parade me around in front of all the people in his network. I have enjoyed our dates, getting to know each other more and more, but as my eyes flick around the room again, I know there is no way I can make it tonight. This mess will take all day to get cleaned up.
Something has come up. I can’t make it. Sorry.
I rush my reply before I give it another thought. George and I need to try to take care of this mess, and then we have a meeting with the parents at the local community center down the road. Everyone is calling and asking questions, stressed and worried about where their kids will now go to get their basic educational requirements met.
When I hear another text come through, I ignore it. Pushing Ben to the back of my mind, my stomach sinks again from the pain of losing everything. I thought I was past this pain. I thought that I had hit rock bottom with the only way being up. I was sure that the heaviness of what life could throw at me would ease. Not so, it appears.
“We will be alright, Em. But I really want you to reconsider moving in with me. Between this and Jeremy, it is a lot. I know you and Rosie will be more settled back in your bunker,” George offers, looking at me as though I am about to break.
“I do miss that bunker…” I murmur to him, referring to his basement, where Rosie and I lived for a while, the space as large as the entire house footprint. Our independence and safety assured, it was our own little private oasis. Just what we needed as we recovered back then. Perhaps just what I need now.
“It is all yours. Just say the word.” I give him a small nod. While I love the bunker, I feel like going back there would be admitting defeat. I am not ready for that yet. This is not over. The school is still ours. I still have a job. Rosie still has me.
“We need to work out our next steps, George. This is no doubt the work of Beasley, and you and I both know this is only the tip of the iceberg. What will we do?” I almost plead to George, and his lips thin. He is not happy.
“Let get this placed cleaned up first and then think about what we need to do.” He gives nothing away in terms of what he is thinking. He could still take the money. There is no way we can bounce back from this.
“I guess we better get to work,” I say quietly, the fight I had nearly all but gone. The mop and bucket at my side look comically redundant in the vast mess of the room.
“I guess we better.”
Grabbing the mops and cleaning products, we try to fix the mess a billionaire left.
CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT - BEN
I have been feeling off all day. Em canceled our date tonight, and I can’t say I’m not disappointed. I want to see her. I want to see her every damn day.
A knock at my office door breaks through my thoughts as Sandra walks in.
