little but mighty, and her resting bitch face was on point. I felt like we understood each other. Silas would point out the resemblance. I smiled imagining it.
Ah, Silas. Was he working things out with stupid Jacquie?
Don’t think about that. I scolded myself and moved along. My favorite part of the museum was the statues. Room after room of statues. I stared at Cupid and Psyche for a long while, lost in their embrace. The artist had captured their passion so perfectly, and I yearned for what they had.
Someday, Harlow.
It was a wonderful day. I walked the Seine River and found a spot to sit and read while I ate a folded crepe with powdered sugar. I was in a brain fog of contentment when I got back on the metro. A woman sat beside me with a little boy. He had an English workbook on his lap and kept asking his mom questions. I couldn’t understand everything they said, but I could see from his mom’s head shaking and pinched face that she didn’t understand how to help him. I felt nosy but couldn’t help myself. He was doing verb conjugations.
“Bonjour,” I interjected. “Excusez-moi.” I pointed to his workbook. “May I help?”
“Bonjour,” the woman said, nodding. It turned out that the boy knew basic English pretty well, despite his mom not being familiar. But some of these verbs were hard even for American kids.
I worked with him all the way until they had to get off. It warmed me when he would smile and nod, bending over to scratch an answer down. His mother thanked me profusely.
“Vous avez un don avec les enfants,” she said. I nodded and smiled, though I couldn’t understand—something about children. I repeated her wording to myself until she got off, then plugged it into my translator. You have a gift with children.
A gift. Her words trickled over me, tingling like magic fairy dust. Working with the boy had come naturally to me, and it brought back a flood of satisfied happiness from my time as a student teacher. I was so lost reminiscing that I nearly missed my stop.
I picked up a margherita pizza and salad to-go and took it back to my room. My legs were like jelly from all the walking. I felt satisfied sitting on the bed, eating my dinner, and scrolling through my pictures. I realized I’d hardly thought about Shawn or Silas today. And my urge to go online had lessened. I was actually enjoying my own company. I’d gone on a grand adventure all by myself and I felt stronger.
The woman’s words from the metro kept coming back to me. For the first time in the past year, I forced myself to really think about the decision I’d made and what I’d given up.
I’d always wanted to be a teacher. It was my dream. And much of my dream had been wrapped up in the perfect life I’d been creating for myself. I believed I’d be a teacher and Don would be a mortgage broker. We’d buy a house in the same neighborhood as my high school friends. Everyone was onboard with this dream. It was going to be beautiful. But I ruined it all by not wanting what I should have wanted. Or what everyone thought I should want.
When I saw the advertisement for Omega Skies job opportunities online, it had seemed like a perfect way out. I knew that leaving Don meant leaving it all. The whole dream. Friends included. And my parents. That part had killed me.
I didn’t want to be a flight attendant forever. I realized it like a slap of clarity. This had been an escape for me. It wasn’t my career path. Today I felt a physical ache—a yearning—when I thought about being a teacher. Ultimately, that was my dream. A smile came over me and once I started I couldn’t stop. I went to the window and opened it, cooing back at the fat gray pigeons on my stoop.
I wasn’t going to try and become an international flight attendant. I was going to be a teacher. But where? In Jersey? Could I manage lesson planning and all of that from our cramped apartment? Maybe at first. Or should I go back to Virginia? It would be nice to be near my family again. I could make new friends. I didn’t have to hang out with my old friends.
I had a lot to think about, and for the first time in a