“Tatum?”

Why the hell isn’t he in his classroom already?  The bell rang five minutes ago.  I swallow my sarcasm and bite my tongue against the smart ass remarks.  I try taking a deep breath to calm myself, I do, but as I turn to face him, all that comes out is panic.

“Mr. Ryan, I’m so sorry,” I gush, an uncontrollable rant bursting forth as if a dam broke.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, but I keep going because I can’t stop myself.

“Mr. Stephenson wants me to apologize to you in front of the entire class, but I can’t.  I can’t go in there in front of everybody.  I’m sorry I acted like a jerk and embarrassed you yesterday, it was wrong.  I know it was.  But please don’t make me go in there in front of everybody.”  I’m shaking from nerves, my fingers gripping the hem of my shirt.  I feel like I can’t breathe as he stands there just starting at me.

“Miss Krause, calm down,” he says, approaching me slowly.  I attempt to take another deep breath as I watch him near me.  “If it upsets you this much, I won’t make you.  Although maybe I should.  What you did yesterday was completely over the line.”

“I know, I know,” I rush, “and I’m really sorry.”

Mr. Ryan studies me critically, weighing my words against my behavior, I’m sure.  “Apology accepted, Miss Krause.”

The air leaves my lungs in a whoosh.  “Okay.”  I can feel some of the anxiety seeping out of my system.  “Okay….Thank you.”

He lifts his hand as though he’s going to touch me, but he thinks better of it.  It falls limply at his side.  “Are you going to be okay, or do you need to lie down?” he asks gently, eyeing me as if I’m going to suddenly drop.

“I’m okay.  I just need a minute,” I reply, feeling better with each passing second.  I can’t help but catch his deep brown eyes watching me curiously, but he doesn’t say anything.  He waits patiently until my breathing has slowed, and now I feel like an idiot.  “I’m good.  Let’s go inside.”

“You sure?”

I nod my head.

“For the record, I’ll tell Mr. Stephenson I spoke to you privately and accepted your apology.”

“Thank you,” I mutter as I follow him inside the room.

I end up with a seat in the very front since I’m the last student to show up, and Mr. Ryan doesn’t waste any time launching into a review of linear functions.  My mind is having a hard time focusing after the emotional day I’ve been having, and after sparing a quick glance at Mr. Ryan, I pull out my phone to text Emerson, ignoring the 3 missed texts I have waiting for me in my inbox.

I need girl time 2nite you avail? 

She texts me back almost immediately.  Her phone is like an extension of her right hand.

Of course.  You okay?? Your place at 4? 

Making sure I’m still in the clear, I type a quick reply.  I’m fine just need to blow off some steam.  See ya at 4!

I slip my phone into my pocket, thankfully without being noticed.  Days like this, where I’m moody and confused and lost, I can’t help but wish I had been born into a normal family with a mom I can talk to or even a dad who will listen.  I’m just grateful I have Emerson and Kels, because without them, I don’t know what I would do.

When the bell rings signaling the end of class, I gather my things to leave.  Turning towards the door, I find my path blocked by Mr. Ryan.  I can’t quite decipher the look on his face, but it’s not hard to miss the concern in his chocolate eyes.  It makes my insides twist and slither.

“Do you have a minute, Miss Krause?” he asks when most of the students have filed out.

“I thought we were passed this ‘Miss Krause’ stuff.  My name is Tatum,” I tell him, feeling ready for this day to be over.  “And I need to go to work.”  I’m lying, but he doesn’t need to know that.  What does he want?  Is he going to talk about the kiss?  Should we talk about the kiss?  It seems much easier to leave it swept beneath the rug.  If we let it out into open air, it’ll just dirty everything.

He sits on the corner of the desk behind the one I was occupying, his hands folded in his lap.  “I wanted to make sure you are okay.  Do you often have panic attacks like that?”

My face flames with mortification, and with my bag in my hands, I can’t hide it.  Swallowing down the retort on the tip of my tongue, I lie. “I’m fine.  It’s just been a long day.  My emotions got the better of me.”

Truth is, I’ve had panic attacks since I was a little girl, when I’d hide away in the corner whenever my mom would bring a John home, or her dealer.  I remember cramming myself into the small space beneath the staircase and hyperventilating behind my hands, praying they would leave so I could finish coloring or playing with my doll.  Mom always told me I must never be seen, and would scare me with horrific stories of what would happen to me if I didn’t hide.  Now that I’m older, I realize telling your kid fucked up shit to make them listen is just plain wrong.  Even if there were some truth to her words.

“Okay.  Look,” he sighs.  “I know we got off on the wrong foot, but I am still your teacher.  If you need someone you can talk to me, and I promise I will keep things confidential.”

I snort rudely when he finishes.

“I’m sorry,” I say, composing myself.  It really takes a lot of effort to not be rude around him.  “Thanks for the offer, but I’m fine.  I don’t need your charity therapy sessions.”

He sighs again, running a hand through his long, shaggy hair.  “Alright, Tatum.  Just know I am here if you need someone.  Have a good evening.  I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says, dismissing me.

Walking away from his classroom and out to my car, I have a new sense of unease in my belly.  As much as I don’t want to, I almost feel excited about Mr. Ryan’s offer to listen to me.  Besides the few girlfriends I have, I’ve not once had a male friend offer to lend an ear to listen to my petty problems.  And even though it’s highly unlikely that I will ever act on his offer, considering our miniscule, yet complicated history, the fact he even offered is monumental.  He must feel something for me or he wouldn’t even acknowledge me.  Some messed up daddy complex I have.

When I get home, I have an hour to kill before Em will be here, so I call Kelsey to check in on Mrs. Marsden.  Kelsey works doubles on Wednesdays, so she should be on a break right now.  She picks up on the second ring.

“What’s up girl?” She answers, and I hear the unmistakable sound of her exhaling a drag from her cigarette.

“Just checking in.  How’s work today?” I ask, while seating myself on my bed.

“Oh, you know, pretty typical.  I’ve been stuck here with Kathy today, and you know how she can be.  Always bitchin’ about her kids and that ex-husband of hers.  At least I have Finn replacing her so tonight should be drama free.”

“Dang, I love working with Finn.  It sucks I’m off tonight.”

“Well I was going to call to see what you’re up to.  Might want to stop in and see Mrs. Marsden today.  She’s really not doing well.”

“What’s wrong with her?  She seemed alright when I tucked her in last night, besides being more tired than usual.”

“It’s about the same, except she hasn’t been out of bed all day.  I could only get her to eat one cup of jello and one cup of yogurt with her pills crushed inside.  Her son has been here most of the afternoon.”

My heart plummets into my stomach.

“That sucks, Kels.  I’ll see what I can do.  Emerson is coming over for a bit, but I’ll try to make it over this evening.”

“Alright girl, my break is up.  See you later, okay?”

“Yeah, you probably will.  Later, girl.”

We disconnect and I take a minute to soak in our conversation.  Since I began working at my job, I’ve never been close to one of the residents that have passed away.  I don’t do death well; the thought of my own death sends me spiraling into a panic attack, and I’m unsure how I’m going to handle Monica’s passing.  I know how completely moronic that sounds, considering how I manage my emotions, but even though I tear my flesh apart to cope, it doesn’t mean I’m suicidal.  I’m just…messed up.