Teachers Lounge - Chapter 2

In the days that followed, I found myself watching Mr. Thomas more. Now that he was working with me I wanted to grasp what I could about his personality. Days later, I arrived early and found him in the teachers lounge alone.

He sat at the table, holding a scortching cup of coffee. When he heard the door opening, he scowled. There was no way he could know it was me yet. The door shut and I settled in a seat beside him.

He snatched up his metal cane and his bag, leaving his seat to a different one across the table. I felt exhasperated already. "It's no wonder the staff avoids you, Mr. Thomas."

"I'd prefer them to. Who are you? "

"Ms. Norton. We met Monday."

"I remember that we met Monday. How old do you take me for?"

"Mr. Thomas, today's planning day. You said you'd be there so I thought I should remind you."

"Thanks."

I couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or not. He leaned back and sipped his coffee. I sighed. "The other teachers wonder why you aren't fired. I've noticed the kids are very responsive to you."

"I've noticed you like music," he flashed me a corked smile. "You always walk in for breakfast with your headphones blaring."

I blushed. He made me sound like a childish moron. He wasn't kidding about what he said when we met; he didn't want to make friends with faculty members. I left the room, which appeared to be what he wanted me to do. He didn't say goodbye.

During class I couldn't stop biting my bottom lip. If I didn't get on his good side, he wouldn't be of much help to me. I couldn't understand his attitude. What did he gain from chasing off his coworkers?

I decided to avoid him until after school. I'd tell him that his rude behavior bothered me. It seemed like a flawless plan until lunch time came. I was in the teachers lounge, listening to the conversation going on between my coworkers. At one point the topic was Mr. Thomas's PHD (which I don't believe he really possesses) and why he chose to teach at this school if he had one.

I shivered slightly after being reminded. Our school had low grades, and the government gave us little to fix it. Most of the time I can ignore the fact that the school is poor because I attended when I was a kid. It was well off when I was young, but now their budget had dropped severely.

"Ms. Norton," a teacher across the table shot. "Did you get Mr. Thomas to help you out? I told you he wouldn't."

"Actually, he said yes."

Some of the teachers paused, taking in that Mr. Thomas was cooperating with another teacher. The man who had consulted me originally, Mr. Smith, almost spit out his drink.

"He really said yes? How did you get him to agree?"

I frowned thoughtfully and shrugged. "It helped that I had a student with me."

I was certain it had been Alyssa who had convinced Mr. Thomas, but the staff interpreted it differently. Mr. Smith spoke between his laughter. "No way! Mr. Thomas has a thing for Ms. Norton."

"What?" I blurted, disgusted. "He likes the students and wants to help--I think. I'm pretty sure."

"My students said they liked his class," another teacher spewed. "He's probably constructed a pretty unique lesson plan."

"Ms. Norton, do the lonely guy a favor." Mr. Smith coaxed. "He'd be more happy if he had company."

Laughter echoed against the walls of the small teachers lounge. Suddenly I felt I'd made a mistake in telling them. I was the butt of the next lounge joke. Irritated, I picked up my lunch to finish it in peace and quiet. Mr. Smith called out an apology which didn't convince me to stay at all.

I was along the silent hallway to the cafeteria when I felt someone slam into me. My tray almost slipped from my grasp. Mr. Thomas fell into my view as he grabbed the hem of my dress, saving me from my fall.

"What was--?" I blathered. "What was that?"

"Don't let him get away!" Mr. Thomas shouted, dropping my dress to chase after the culprit. There was a boy some feet ahead, stumbling to outrun Mr. Thomas.

I swung around and grabbed Mr. Thomas' arm, clinging to him. He tugged his arm, but with all my weight holding him back he didn't stand a chance. He thwaked his cane against my leg. "Let go! What are you doing?"

As the boy fled my view, I released Mr. Thomas. He brought his cane against my skin again, and I jumped. "Who are you and what makes you think you can interfere with student discipline?"

"It's me, Mr. Thomas."

He groaned at the sound of my voice. "The bloody music teacher again?"

"You're the prick who ran into me!"

"You've got a mouth on you, dont you?"

"I'm tired of your bad attitude."

"Look here, you just lost me the brat who keeps sneaking into the kitchens. I can't even describe his appearance. We'll never catch him now!"

It hit me how mad I was to ask him for help in the first place. I had hoped his relations with the staff would improve if they saw me getting along with him, but we weren't getting along at all.

"Mr. Thomas..." I said, picking at a strand of my hair. "Maybe it'd be better if I worked on the play by myself. You'd prefer that, right?"

His reaction surprised me. He dropped his cane, and his blue, vacant eyes became fretful. He reached for my hands, missing at first. "No, no. I would love to be part of this play!"

"You would...?"

"Yes yes of course. I'm sorry if I came off as rude. I--"

"You're lying. You had no intention of helping with the play until Alyssa convinced you."

"But Alyssa was right, helping out would greatly benefit the play."

"Is this about Alyssa?"

He silenced, his hands still embracing mine. His face looked less tense and more human as I saw sorrow cross his face. "Of course. I want to impress her and show her how much I can fix up the play."

I raised an eyebrow. "Why her?"

"Because I like her voice."

"That's it?"

"I swear it. I listen to her sing all the time."

"What's her favorite melody?"

He said nothing, a clueless expression falling over him. I'd caught him right in a lie. He tightened his grip around my hands, becoming desperate. "Please let me help out. I'll explain everything after school, I swear."

It felt nice to have one up on him for once. Grinning slightly, I nodded and he swept away after a long goodbye. This was perfect: I had control over Mr. Thomas.

I was so happy at the aspect of his improved personality that my mood was heightened all afternoon. The end of the day arrived faster than usual, and after all my students had left I rushed for the teachers lounge.

Mr. Thomas was standing at the vending machine that sat in front of torn, aged school announcements. One of the lightbulbs near the machine was out, giving the area a shady appearance. The afternoon light fought the darkness off through cracks in bent window blinds.

He was frowning, sliding his thumb along the brail of the machine's choices. He heard the door slam behind me, prompting him to swerve to face me. I stared into his eyes, momentarily forgetting of his blindness.

"Who's there?"

"It's Ms. Norton."

He relaxed, nodding as he returned to reading the vending machine brail. "Good then, take a seat somewhere."

He made his selection and a cup fell into a clamp. Coffee poured into the cup, and flavoring followed. Picking up his cup, he seated himself beside me. "Okay, kiddo. What kind of play did you have in mind?"

"You haven't been rude to me yet; I'm shocked. You even sat next to me. Do you wanna be part of the play that badly?"

He sighed shortly, nervously fiddling his thumbs against the handle of his metal cane. Soon he reached into his back pocket. "I put this picture here long before my vision failed me. As I recall, it's a little bent up, but..."

When he handed me his wallet, I didn't realize he wanted me to open it. I looked up and saw he was patiently waiting, so I opened his wallet. On the right side was a picture of a woman holding a baby.

The woman was pale and her face lined. Her hair had streaks of grey, and her long bristly curls fell to her shoulders. Her smile was so big that her eyes watered in joy. Mr. Thomas stood beside the woman, a hand resting on her shoulder. He smiled with pride like I'd never seen from him before, and with that I finally realized I'd been handed a family photo.

"I didn't know you had any kids," I said at last. "Or that you were married."

"We never intended to have children." Mr. Thomas confessed slowly. "We were busy people, and when I was a young man I didn't want children. I was stubborn."

He paused. I wasn't sure if he was saddened by his story or irritated he had to tell me it. "When my wife got pregnant, she was so excited that she wanted to keep it, even though her doctor recommended she abort it."

"Abort it? Why?"

"She was sick a lot, so they worried her body couldn't handle it. After she gave birth, we tried to look after the baby, but my wife's health declined. It was just like the doctors predicted."

I let his sensitive words sink to my heart. I understood now. His wife didn't survive. To think I'd have ever felt a pang of sympathy for Mr. Thomas was an idea worth repressing. "I'm, well, sorry to hear that. It's a tragedy. But what's your wife got to do with...?"

Mr. Thomas poked the wallet, his lifeless blue eyes staring down, unblinking. I glanced back to the picture. "The baby?"

"Right. I took care of her for several years, but when my health started going bad I put her up for adoption."

I looked back to the picture, squinting at the child. Mr. Thomas rambled on about the adopting parents as I slipped the picture out of his wallet. Anxiously, I flipped it over.

A woman's neat handwriting covered the back side. Below a date was written "Alyssa's first week home."

Good God. I flipped it back and returned it to the wallet. "Mr. Thomas, why don't you take your daughter back instead of watching at a distance?"

"I can't do it." he said. "I can't take care of her alone when I'm sick like this. I can't even see anymore. I thought she'd be better off with two parents who were actually healthy."

The rumors were now confirmed--at least in my mind, anyway. Mr. Thomas was alone. I made up my mind that he'd partake in the play, together with Alyssa just like he had wanted. I also decided I'd boost his confidence as a parent to take back what he'd lost--that part, however, I didn't inform him of.