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aquicktripp · 1 year ago

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Exposure Therapy - Part 1 of 2

Rating: M (no smut)

Themes: queer relationships, lesbian relationships, age-gap, student-teacher friendship, student-teacher relationship, unsupportive parents, homophobia, no contact, death

word count: ~6,000

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Today was supposed to be the first day of the rest of Amy Lawren— no, Miller’s, life. Instead, today has morphed into some kind of terrible situational comedy where everything goes wrong. She's had to endure the usual suspects: sleeping through her alarm but then discovering it hadn’t actually been set, spilling coffee on her freshly ironed shirt while rushing out the door, and of course, Joey missing the bus for his first day at a new school. So… maybe tomorrow will be the first day of the rest of Amy’s life.

Morning Edition plays quietly in the background as the two of them silently wait at a stop light. While they’re only running a few minutes behind, Amy drums her hands on the steering wheel willing the light to change at any time, please. The reporter on the radio is interviewing some semblance of a politician about what sounds like the poor state of the economy but Amy is too preoccupied with the tension radiating from Joey to focus on what’s being said.

The last year has been rough for both of them but Joey has put on a brave face. So brave, in fact, that he’s stopped opening up to her almost completely. Their interactions are stilted and brief, often leaving Amy at a loss for what she could possibly say or do to mend their relationship.

But today was supposed to be a new beginning for both of them and Amy misses her nephew, despite him being right beside her. So she tries, “I’m sorry for not getting us going on time. I was up late preparing for a big meeting and must’ve forgotten to set the alarm.”

He doesn’t look away from his cell phone, “It’s whatever.”

Two words are better than his usual grunt, Amy muses. The light finally changes and there are only a few moments before she has to make the right turn into the school. So she presses her luck just a little further, “Are you nervous for your first day?”

Amy can see him shrug in her periphery as he says, “Not really.”

Again, two words are better than nothing, and a feeling of boldness blooms within her, “Do you need me to come in with you?” She knows the question is a mistake before the last word leaves her lips.

Joey does put his phone down this time, turning to shoot daggers directly at her, “No, Amy. I read the email and will just go to the office like it says to do.”

If his tone didn’t give away that she’d gone too far, then the use of just her first name certainly does. So instead of responding, she nods, pulling the car up to the main entrance of the very same high school she graduated from almost 20 years prior.

Joey is nearly out of the car before it’s fully parked but Amy can’t let him go in without saying something. She wants to tell him to have a wonderful day, that she is proud of the man he is becoming, that she is sorry for all of the heartache, and that she’ll make it up to him someday, somehow. She quickly grabs at him, capturing his ever-growing bicep in her grasp. Their eyes lock and he looks at her expectantly. Amy realizes then that it’s been weeks since she’s seen the full blue of her nephew’s eyes, just as blue as hers, and as her brother’s. What she sees staring back at her though, causes her heart to sink. The lack of vibrance in them takes both her breath and her resolve to speak up completely away.

Instead of a heartfelt goodbye, she clears her throat, “If you need anything today, just find your Uncle.” He nods, shrugging off her touch. “I love you,” she calls out as Joey slams the door behind him, walking in the direction of the office and not once looking back.

Feeling downright defeated, Amy drives away, heading in the direction of downtown, if it can even be called that, to start her own first day. Well, not really. Can it still be considered your first day if you spent your weekends, school vacations, and summers trapped there? Perhaps then, this is Amy’s first paid day.

Walking into her father’s office, she’s greeted by Sheila, the long-time receptionist for Miller & Associates, who stands, walking around her desk with open arms. “Oh honey, welcome home!” She says, enveloping Amy in a welcomed, albeit suffocating hug.

“Thank you, Sheila. It’s good to see you,” Amy replies with limited air in her lungs.

The much older woman loosens her grip and steps back, allowing them to look each other in the eyes. It has only been a few weeks since her last visit but Sheila still examines her thoroughly, as if she had just spent the last two decades away from home.

What Sheila sees, Amy is unsure but whatever it is, it causes Sheila to smile lightly and say, “I just want you to know, I’m here if you or Joey need anything. At all.”

Her sincerity feels heavy in Amy’s chest and she can feel the tears starting to well but crying in her father’s entryway is certainly not an option. So Amy does what she has trained herself to do and pushes through, “Thank you, Sheila. We appreciate that, truly.”

Amy’s answer must be satisfactory because Sheila squeezes her arms one last time and returns to her desk, flipping open the spiral black planner that her father refuses to trade in for a computerized system. “He arrived about 10 minutes ago and is waiting for you in his office. He said that when you arrived, I was to remind you about the 9 a.m.”

Amy holds back a scoff. As if she could forget the appointment that she had organized and that she had been up all night preparing for. Leave it to her father to think she would just waltz into the office on her first day back without any care in the world before a meeting with a potential new, high-profile client.

Since Sheila is one of her all-time favorite humans on this planet, she opts not to shoot the messenger. “Thanks, Sheila”, she says with as much positivity as she can, “I’ll let him know I’m here. Pray for me,” Amy winks as she walks back towards the offices.

The space itself isn’t huge, as far as offices go, and much smaller than the multi-level office building her previous firm occupied in Midtown Manhattan. The converted Victorian home held enough room that they were able to have a cozy welcome area, one large conference room, a handful of offices, and of course, a kitchen area that functioned as the copy, mail, and break room. It takes less than 30 seconds for her to walk up the staircase and all the way back to her father’s office, the largest but somehow stuffiest, of the five to choose from. As she approaches, she finds the door slightly ajar and she knocks lightly before stepping into the room.

Once inside, she finds her father, Jim Miller, sitting behind a large oak desk. A coffee cup in one hand and the local paper folded in the other, he doesn’t look up as he greets her, “You’re late.”

“My apologies, sir. I was up late preparing for this morning and the alarm didn’t get set. We had a rough start,” Amy tells him as she moves to sit in one of the armchairs facing his desk.

He hums, “Don’t let it happen again.”

“Of course not,” she says quickly. Then she is forced to wait for him to finish whatever article he has deemed intelligent enough to read completely through.

Her eyes wander around the room, taking in the decor that hasn’t changed much in the 30 years her family has owned the building. While her father hasn’t done any significant updates, he’s allowed her mother to come in sporadically over the years. She’d add new little touches, like a photo of him and someone locally famous or a framed article about a successful win but never anything too personal. The only family photo in the room sits on Jim’s desk, facing him.

The picture is of the five of them; her parents, herself, and her two younger brothers, James The Fourth and Stephen. It was one of Amy’s favorites, taken the summer before her senior year of high school, on the observation deck of the Empire State Building. They had taken a trip for her to visit NYU, her now Alma Mater, much to her father’s chagrin. It was one of the last photos taken of their family before her father found out about Amy’s sexuality. From before he decided that because she was attracted to women, she was no longer worthy of becoming the next Miller of Miller & Associates.

Her father clears his throat, “Are you ready?”

Amy nods, “Yes, sir.”

He checks his Rolex, “We have just under an hour. Head to your office, get situated, and be back here at 8:30.”

“Yes sir,” Amy stands, walking back towards the door but pauses, “Sir?”

He’s already shuffling papers from a file folder across his desk so again, he doesn’t try and meet her eyes, “Sheila cleared it out in preparation for your arrival. Do not forget to extend your gratitude.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you.”

With that, Amy walks across the hall to the “it” her father was referring to: her office. The office that had been specifically picked out for her when she was six years old because it was across the hall from his. The same office that had been built out for her that same summer nearly 20 years ago, a surprise that her father had arranged, for when they returned from New York.

Prior to their trip, Amy had spent nearly six months designing and planning her office with her father (but mostly Sheila). She had been expecting it to be completed much later on, likely after undergrad, but Jim had wanted her to have it before then. So she could get settled in, he had said, to get comfortable by his side.

James IV, better known as Jimmy, had drunkenly told her once that he had never seen their father open the room and it was well known around the office that the door was to remain shut at all times. The Cedar Creek Rumor Mill had it on good authority that many years ago, a first-year associate had asked their father during the office Christmas party if they could move down and take the office over. Their father fired them on the spot. Allegedly, of course.

It has been 18 years since Amy has walked through this door and unsurprisingly, it’s unbelievably difficult to reach out and twist the knob. She inhales deeply, calling on every last bit of nerve she can and pushes her way inside.

She takes in the sight before her, recalling the small details of the brightly painted room, a stark contrast to the somber tones of her father’s dark wood theme. She had wanted her office to be inviting to everyone and not pretentious. Amy Miller, Esquire was going to help people, regardless of their economic standing and she wanted them to feel at ease.

The walls had been painted a light gray, while white ornate trim surrounded the lone but large, bay window. Her view was decent, overlooking the recently renamed Miller Park and the adjacent First Baptist Church, where her family has been members since it was erected, literally.

After it had been decided that Amy was returning to Cedar Creek, Sheila had reached out, asking her if she wanted to update any of the decor to something more akin to today’s trends. Amy had declined, opting to keep the similar, but less robust versions of her father’s furniture. Amy’s set was considered to be the daughter of the set featured in her father’s office by the local manufacturer. Admittedly, she hesitated to let it go.

Sitting down in the smooth light leather chair, she was satisfied with her decision not to change anything. This was finally her office and she was going to enjoy it the way her teenage self would have wanted her to.

Pulling her laptop out of her bag, Amy gets to work refreshing all of the preparations she had completed the night before.

“Welcome home, Ames,” she says aloud, to no one.

***

When Amy arrives home, promptly at 5:30 p.m., as she demanded when negotiating her return with her father, Joey is seated at the kitchen table. He has a school book open and is steadily jotting down notes. From the looks of the new additions to the open-faced cabinets, he’d unpacked several boxes, even going as far as breaking down and neatly stacking the empties by the back door. While his initiative mostly catches her off guard, it gives Amy hope that, perhaps, things are feeling a bit more normal for him.

She can’t help the smile that spreads across her face as she holds up two bags, “Dinner?”

He looks up from his notebook and for a brief moment, joy reflects in his eyes as he asks, “Chinese?”

“You know it,” Amy says, bringing the takeout to the table. Joey moves his study materials out of the way and honestly, Amy isn’t sure why she’s trying to get her feelings hurt again today but she takes a chance, “What are you working on?”

Joey gets up, returning with two paper plates, setting them down in front of the containers, and starts to dole out dumplings and Lo Mein for each of them.

“Chemistry,” he says nonchalantly.

“Yikes,” Amy replies, picking up the spare ribs and giving them each two.

“Not really, I like it.”

“Is that so?” Amy says, genuinely. Not that she should be shocked by this news, her brother had been an engineer after all and Amy herself had a knack for the sciences.

But all Joey says in return is, “Yep,” before sliding his notebook back over towards him and beginning to eat.

Amy had, what she would consider, a good day at the office with her father. He didn’t scold her once during any of their meetings together and they’d managed to pass by each other twice in the hall without verbally lashing out.

She uses that momentum as courage to venture a little further with Joey, “Is that work that was given to you to get caught up?”

He murmurs something that resembles confirmation but doesn’t seem as though he plans to say anything further. Well, at least she had tried. A change that their therapist will be pleased to hear about later this week, Amy is sure.

She’s reaching down into her workbag to pull out a notebook of her own to go over her hours for the day when Joey speaks again, his deepening voice startling her just a touch.

“A team project was assigned today.” Amy looks up, giving him her undivided attention. She tries to smile encouragingly and it seems to work. He continues, “Each team has to pick a different experiment that demonstrates a concept that they’ve learned so far this year.”

“Oh man,” Amy says softly as her chest fills with guilt at the role she played in forcing him to change schools halfway through the first semester.

Her parents had wanted to ensure that she and Joey were settled by the holidays. Not because they were looking forward to spending time as a family but because it would mean they would be able to attend the required gatherings together. This way, the Cedar Creek Elite, would have less to contribute to the Rumor Mill, if all of the remaining Millers were seen participating as expected. Her parents’ desire to have them home was purely for their benefit, not for Joey’s and certainly not for Amy’s.

Joey either doesn’t understand the sullen expression on her face or he simply ignores it because he keeps speaking, “Well, so my teacher gave me a study guide so I could catch up.”

“That was nice of them,” Amy says.

Joey hums in agreement, “Yeah, she seems pretty nice.”

“What’s her name?”

He thinks for several moments and then honest to God laughs, “I actually can’t remember.”

Amy can’t stop herself from lightly chuckling along with him, “Well that’s okay, I’m sure you heard a lot of names today.”

He nods in agreement, “So many.”

Amy’s heart is exploding with excitement at their extended conversation but she is still hesitant to push him too far. She doesn’t want to spook him.

“Anything else fun happen?” Amy asks casually.

Joey shrugs, “Not really. Uncle Jimmy gave me a tour during first period, which was supposed to be Spanish, then I had Chemistry and Calculus before lunch. My last class was Photography, which was also pretty fun. I’ll need to bring my camera next time though.”

She replies a little too quickly, “Sure, no problem." She tones it down, "We’ll get it unpacked tonight.”

He grins, “Awesome, thanks, Amy.”

Some of the wind is knocked out of Amy’s sails at the name but she won’t let it take away from the exchange as a whole.

Joey’s voice cuts through her internal celebration, “A couple of kids at school said our house is haunted.”

Amy huffs, “It isn’t.”

“How do you know?” Joey asks tentatively.

“Does it feel haunted?”

He pauses, “No, I don’t think so.”

“Well there you go,” Amy says. “Besides, when I was in school, the rumors were that it has some kind of weird anti-curse energy, not that it’s haunted.” Joey couldn’t look more confused if he tried. “Look, just know that it’s fine, and don’t believe everything you hear, okay?”

“They said a man died in here, a doctor or something?”

Amy laughs, “Probably several people have died in here Joe, The House has been around since the Civil War but I know who you’re talking about, Dr. Mitchell.”

Joey shakes his head up and down, “Yeah that was the name they said. They said something about the attic,” Joey’s eyes move towards the ceiling.

Amy’s eyes follow, “You wanna go check?”

“What? No!” Joey exclaims.

Her laughter grows, “I’m just kidding. There’s nothing up there, remember? We’ve both been in there together.”

“I know,” he groans, “but they said he like, you know,” and attempts to gesture a rope.

Amy cuts him off, “I’m not sure if that’s what happened but I do remember my grandpa telling me about the day he died. He was very young when it happened but it was kind of a big deal.”

“What happened?”

“He died. In the attic.”

He gapes, “What? You just said you didn’t know for sure.”

She smiles wryly, “I said that I didn’t know how he died. He did die in the attic though, they just never really knew for sure how. A lot of people said it was an accident.”

“Was he married?” Joey asks.

“Yes, to his nurse and she went on to do really wonderful things for the town. Dr. Mitchell, ” Amy added, “he was allegedly quite the jerk. Grandpa Miller said that he acquired the house under shady circumstances and the house ‘made it right’,” she finishes, holding her fingers up for air quotes.

Quizzically, Joey asks, “Made it right? What does that mean?”

Amy shrugs, “Your guess is as good as mine but legend has it…”, she pauses for dramatic effect, taking in Joey’s mesmerized look. “Legend has it that The Emmett House was built specifically for the Underground Railroad and as a thank you, one of the freed women blessed the Emmett House and those who would live here in the future.”

“What kind of blessing?”

“Happiness,” Amy says simply.

Joey hums, his eyes are brimming with dissatisfaction at her answer but nonetheless, he nods and returns to his notebook. He stays silent while they finish their meal, scribbling notes in between bites of Chinese. He doesn’t say anything else until he asks her if she wants to watch a movie with him and the question is music to Amy’s ears.

As she stands to follow Joey into the den, she pauses, turning back to gaze at the large eat-in kitchen. Amy had spent the most money in this room, as expected, and rightfully so. The warmth she felt from being inside The Emmett House was unmatched, despite the heavy history that came with it, and she hoped that she had done the home justice with her renovations. She wanted her and Joey to be happy here and with every day, it seemed as though a little bit more of that happiness was returning to them.

***

“We’re presenting our experiments in class this morning,” Joey announces randomly on a Friday morning two weeks later. This is his third day in a row having breakfast with her but today is the first he’s spoken. She nods, hoping he’ll continue, and to her surprise, he does, “Families are invited to come tonight at 6:30 to see them too. You don’t have to stay but could you give me a ride?”

She starts to frown but thinks better of it. Smiling instead, she replies, “Of course I’ll come, Joe.” She pauses to give him a chance to reply but he continues chewing, “And hey, I’ll even give you that ride too.”

At her quip, he smiles, his mouth full of cereal, an event that’s been happening more and more frequently. He swallows before saying, “Great.”

“Great,” Amy parrots. “What’s your experiment about, by the way? You haven’t said.” She’s getting braver with her questions, less hesitant to scare him off.

Joey huffs and rolls his eyes, “I’m not gonna explain it to you if you’re gonna see it tonight, Ames. That’s a waste of breath.”

She laughs and holds her hands up placatingly, “You’re right, you’re right. I’ll wait for the big reveal then.”

He had started calling her “Ames” again one day last week while calling out for her upon his arrival home from school. He had stayed late for some extra tutoring, per his text earlier that day. His Chemistry teacher, who had identified herself as Ms. Greene, had texted shortly after Joey confirming their tutoring session as well. Amy had readily agreed for him to stay, promising to have pizza waiting for them.

Amy had been elated that he was taking an interest in his school work but even more pleased to hear her nickname from him once again. It had been far too many months since she’d heard it from his mouth and she had been starting to forget what it sounded like. She understood though, that it was probably hard for Joey to use the term of endearment. After all, his father and mother referred to her that way Joey’s entire life. Or maybe he was just growing up, either way, she’s glad to hear it again.

“Mrs. Greene asked me to tell you specifically to come tonight,“ he says offhandedly, on his way out the front door a bit later.

“She did?” Amy asks, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. “How come?”

He shrugs, “Dunno.” To Amy’s delight, he continues unprompted, “After class the other day she asked if my guardian was coming tonight and I told her I didn’t know. When I said that, she said that it would be a good idea for you to come. I think she just wants to tell you how good I am at chemistry.”

“How good you are?” He grins, “And how good is that, exactly?”

Joey’s smile is the largest she’s seen since last Christmas, since “before”. “See you tonight, Ames,” he says, closing the front door behind him.

Some days, Amy wonders if Joey is her child, the way her own mischievousness manifests in his everyday actions. His wit is similar to hers and Jimmy’s, not as every day as his father, Stephen’s, although he too would have his dry moments. What Amy doesn’t have to wonder about though is her love for him. She knows that she loves Joey just as much as she would if he was her own.

***

Hours later, Amy is sure that she has forgotten to wake up from a rare, late afternoon power nap and is still dreaming. Otherwise, how else would she explain that it is somehow 2005 and she is standing in the doorway of the very same chemistry classroom that she occupied her own Junior year of high school?

Luckily, the walls are a lot less… piss yellow, an unfortunate trait of the entire science wing during her time there. She takes the change in paint color as a sign that it’s likely this isn’t a dream and enters the room behind her nephew.

Inside, the crowd is fairly large, filling in all of the empty spaces of the rectangular room, with science benches evenly spread throughout. Joey looks back at her, an excited look on his face. Amy can see Jimmy in her periphery standing in the far left corner of the room. She nods in Jimmy’s direction, indicating for Joey to head that way.

He turns forward to navigate the throng of people but quickly turns back, “Oh perfect, I can introduce you to Mrs. Greene, she’s talking to Uncle Jimmy.”

“Perfect!” Amy calls back, genuinely thrilled to finally put a face to the name of the only teacher she specifically knew of thus far. Joey has failed to mention the names of the others but to be fair, she’s also failed to ask. Amy makes a mental note to bring it up to him on their ride home.

As they approach, Amy can only see a portion of the back of the woman’s head, most of it blocked by the equipment setup within the chemistry bench. All that’s visible is a mane of curly brown hair, neatly pinned in a half-up-half-down style, accented with an honest-to-god bright orange Scrunchie.

Jimmy finally meets her eyes and he lights up at the sight of the two of them. Amy always loved being greeted by her brothers, who were always so happy to see her growing up. And now, seeing Jimmy so frequently the last few weeks has made her question how she was able to stay away for so long.

Amy can see that he calls her name, “Ames!”, but the sound doesn’t meet her ears over the din of the room. The woman in front of Jimmy visibly stiffens at his outburst, likely startled by the boom of his naturally loud voice, just like their father’s. Unlike their father’s though, Jimmy’s voice was also naturally kind and full of warmth, qualities that their father worked to eliminate from his own.

Jimmy excuses himself and starts to walk towards them but Joey puts his hands up, signaling that they are heading in their direction. Amy can faintly hear Joey telling Jimmy that he wants to introduce Amy to Mrs. Greene. Jimmy nods his head in understanding, stopping to stay where he is to wait for them.

Didn’t she refer to herself as “Ms. Greene” in their text exchange though, Amy muses? She’s probably not married and just doesn’t have the heart to correct anyone. At least, that’s the way Amy has been handling the misuse of her salutation. She’s been on team “Fuck It” since her divorce was finalized six months ago, so she stopped correcting people. She chalked it up to a win-win situation. Less embarrassment for them and less small talk for her.

Mrs./Ms. Greene still doesn’t immediately turn around to face them and if Amy wasn’t mistaken, she’d swear that just before she finally does, the woman inhales so deeply that her shoulders touch her ears before slowly returning down to their proper positions.

Amy’s heart begins to race then, in response to what, Amy cannot immediately pinpoint. It’s as if her mind is still searching but her heart has already remembered, hammering with anticipation, waiting for her mind to catch up.

They reach the end of the table and finally, Joey calls out to the woman, “Mrs. Greene! I want you to meet my Aunt Amy.”

The woman finally turns to face them and Amy, for fuck’s sake, must really still be sleeping because what she sees in front of her is a ghost. Staring back at her is the face of someone that she never thought that she would see again in person. A face that she did sometimes see though, in her dreams, when she was particularly homesick or stressed. Someone who Amy saw for the last time, in this very classroom, the day before her senior year was set to start.

Mrs. Greene steps around the large table and into Amy’s full view. Mrs. Greene, or Mrs. Smith, well, actually, Diana, as Amy knew her back then, had hardly changed at all. Sure, her dark hair was showing signs of graying but there wasn’t much else. She had always looked younger, Amy recalls, remembering the surprise she felt when learning her chemistry teacher was nearly 10 years older than she was. The entire class had been shocked, really, after Diana had made them all guess her age on their first day together as an icebreaker. At the time, Amy would have guessed that she was freshly out of college, not a grown woman with a Master's Degree and several years of teaching under her belt.

Amy doesn’t know what the hell to do in this situation. A situation that she admittedly still allows herself to fantasize about, when she is feeling particularly low. For nearly 20 years she has imagined what it would be like to see Diana Smith again, for the first time since that late August evening in 2005. However, she’ll also admit that she never envisioned two members of her immediate family being present during their reunion, so any of her previously rehearsed scenarios are completely out of the window. Amy will have to improvise and to do that, she’ll need to do what she does best: take control.

Squaring her shoulders and setting her jaw, Amy thrusts out her hand in offering towards Diana — Mrs. Smith — Greene, whatever. Diana takes it and as they’re shaking, Diana’s brown eyes fill with what looks like relief. Amy also thinks she sees tears forming in Diana’s eyes or perhaps the ones forming in hers are clouding her own vision. Either way, she needs to dampen the emotion pooling in her stomach and the tension she feels creeping in around them. She releases Diana’s hand, instantly relieving some of the pressure but it doesn’t completely dissipate.

Amy clears her throat, looking towards Joey as she says, “We actually know each other, Joe. She was my chemistry teacher too, back in the day.”

His eyes light up, “Really? That’s so cool.” He directs his attention to Diana, "I didn’t know you were kind of old, Mrs. Greene.”

“Joey!” Amy scolds as Diana and Jimmy burst into laughter.

Diana’s laugh is a melody that causes her skin to prickle as the sound meets her ears. It was a sound that never failed to fill Amy’s body with warmth and this apparently still rings true. The three of them chuckle together as Amy’s mind spins completely out of control.

Diana’s voice cuts through her catastrophizing thoughts, “It’s nice to see you again, Amy.”

The sound brings Amy’s gaze to Diana’s and all Amy can do is tell herself that now is not the right time. She manages a stilted, “You too.”

Jimmy checks his watch, letting Diana know that it’s 6:30 on the dot, prompting Joey to rush his goodbyes, quickly leaving to join his partner. Amy tries to wish him luck as he walks away but she doesn’t think he hears her.

Diana excuses herself from Amy and Jimmy but turns to Amy before walking away, “Can I speak with you after?” Amy opens her mouth to respond but Diana says quickly, “About Joey.” Amy nods silently and Diana smiles softly, “Thank you, I’ll find you.”

With her heartbeat racing, Amy watches Diana walk to the front of the classroom. She thinks that she listens to Diana’s welcome message and then watches two dozen teenagers present a wide array of chemistry experiments. However, as Diana approaches the front of the classroom again and thanks everyone for coming, Amy realizes that she hasn’t been paying attention to anything or anyone around her for the last 90 minutes. She paid so little attention in fact, that she has absolutely no idea what Joey’s experiment was.

Her speech over, Diana leaves the front of the classroom and immediately heads in Amy’s direction. As she approaches, Diana waves off several people looking to speak with her, keeping her eyes fixed in Amy’s direction. Diana and Joey reach Amy and Jimmy simultaneously and Amy takes the opportunity to delay their potential private conversation by keeping the focus on her nephew.

“Great job, Bud,” Amy says, and he beams at her. She will really need to make an effort to try and figure out what his presentation was about. To say she feels terrible is an understatement.

“Thanks, Ames!” He says.

Jimmy and Diana follow suit in offering their praise before engaging each other in a school-related discussion. Joey takes this as a sign that he’s no longer needed, turning to Amy and letting her know he was going to hangout with his partner Sam, and to find him when she was ready to leave.

After a few beats, Diana seems to notice that Joey has left and shifts her body to include Amy in their conversation.

“Great turnout this year, Diana,” Jimmy says casually.

Diana hums in agreement but suddenly, her expression changes into one of seriousness, “I’m glad you’re both here though, really. After,” She pauses, as if she’s trying to choose the right words, “… everything that has happened, I figured you’d like to know how well Joey seems to be settling in.”

Again, all Amy can do is nod and Jimmy gives her an odd look before speaking for both of them, “Thanks so much, Diana. We’re really glad to hear that. He’s a great kid.”

Diana nods emphatically, “Yes, he is! Joey seems to be naturally gifted with science too, which has been delightful. It’s been quite a long time since I’ve had a student pick things up so quickly.”

Amy can feel Diana’s eyes on her as she finishes her statement, which is far from lost on Amy. Still, though, Amy struggles to think of something to say that doesn’t involve bringing up the past. When she comes up empty, she manages a very generic, “I’m really glad to hear that, thanks for letting us know.”

“Excuse me, Principle Miller?” Another parent interrupts their little triangle, requesting to speak with Jimmy and of course, he agrees, excusing himself and stepping several feet away from them with the other man. Now, for the first time in two decades, Amy and Diana are alone. Well, as alone as they can be in a room with 50 other people.

When Diana finally does speak, her voice is meek and unsure, the complete opposite of her speech just moments ago, “Look, Amy—“

Amy can’t seem to hold it in any longer though and cuts her off, “I can’t do this,” but Diana’s eyes are pleading and Amy has waited so long to finally hear something, anything, to justify Diana’s actions back then. So she walks it back and takes some of the bite out of her tone, “Right now. Here. This isn’t the place.”

Diana’s eyes are still disappointed but there is also a hint of understanding in them.

“Okay,” She says. “Then where?”

Amy doesn’t know how to answer her. She needs to process this entire evening, needs to go back through the last two hours to try and make sense of all of the emotions that have unexpectedly sprung up inside of her. Emotions that she had worked hard to deal with and thought that she had long since moved past. Apparently, though, those emotions were simply dormant, waiting for the right moment to be released. And that moment turned out to be a crisp Friday evening in November of 2023.

“I’m not sure,” Amy says honestly and Diana nods, a look of defeat trailing across her features. Amy hates the way Diana’s face falls even further at her response but what Amy hates, even more, is that she can feel herself backsliding so easily, “I can text you though, I guess since I have your number?”

Diana brightens, “I’d appreciate that. That is my personal cell, yes. Please use it whenever you’re ready.”

“Okay,” is all Amy can muster and she cannot remember a time in recent memory when she has been at such a loss for words.

Amy gives Diana a curt smile and turns to leave before she loses all of her resolve but a hand on her forearm stops her. Diana looks up into Amy’s blue eyes, their slight height difference exaggerated by Amy’s heels and Amy’s heart feels as though it’s going to beat out of her chest.

“It is Ms. Greene, by the way,” is all Diana says before fixing a smile across her face that doesn’t quite reach her eyes and walking away.

On the ride home, Amy doesn’t ask Joey the names of his other teachers.

++++++

Read Part 2: www.aquicktripp.com

#wlw #queer #original work #booklr #short story #supercorp #gaylor #age gap lesbians #lgbtqia #fiction

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