See Me After Class(117)

“Greer, please, wait. Let me explain.”

“Go to hell, Arlo,” I say, turning in to the English department wing.

“I wrote that before we got together.”

I spin around on him. “And that’s supposed to make it better?” I yell. Charging forward, I make it to my classroom, Arlo closely behind.

He shuts the door and attempts to approach me.

“I swear to God, Arlo, if you get any closer, I’ll scream bloody murder.”

He holds up his hands and takes a step back.

“Let me explain.”

“Do you realize I was almost fired back there?” I shout at him. “That if it were up to the school board, I’d be packing up a box right now?

“What? They were going to fire you?”

“Yeah, per your evaluation.”

“I didn’t say to fire you.”

“You didn’t have to. Let me see if I can get this correct. ‘The school board values his opinion greatly. Arlo Turner is one of the top reasons why we’re a public school with the highest graduating percentage.’”

“But—”

“No. Wait. There was more. ‘I have to give him credit for being able to set aside his feelings and give us honest, critical feedback.’” I point at him. “You knew exactly what you were doing.”

“I wasn’t doing anything. I was—”

“Can’t find the words you’re looking for? Let me help. You were a closeminded asshole who couldn’t get his way, therefore went crying to the board to do something about it.”

“That’s not what I did. Hell.” He grips his hair. “They asked me my opinion, I gave it to them. If I knew we were going to get together, I would have—”

“Lied?”

“No, I just . . . maybe would have gone easier on you.”

Throwing my hands on my hips, I say, “This isn’t about the evaluation, Arlo. Screw that. This is about how you truly, deep in your soul, don’t believe I’m a valuable educator.”

“That’s not true.”

“It’s not? There wasn’t one kind thing you said about me. And to this day, we still argue over how to teach. You yourself said we should just sweep the topic under the rug because we’ll never agree.” I turn away from him, emotion overcoming me, and I let the tears fall.

“Greer, please.” I hear him step forward.

“Don’t come near me, Arlo. I can’t even look at you.”

“Baby . . .”

“No,” I snap at him. “Don’t you dare call me that. I’m not your baby. I’m not your anything. The only thing that I am to you is a colleague and a teacher you share a class wall with.”

“Greer.” His voice cracks. “You don’t mean that.”

I spin around again. “What did you think was going to happen? I was going to be okay after being read all the reasons you don’t think I should teach and then just jump in bed with you? You might have a good dick, but it’s not that good. You hurt me, Arlo. You almost got me fired. I’m on strict fucking probation and have to rewrite my lesson plans, and I don’t care if you filled that out before we were dating. What you wrote were your true feelings—observations—and that hurts more than anything. I’ve worked hard to get where I am, and yes, it might be a different approach from what you do in the classroom, but it works, and I’m proud of the education I’ve provided.”

“You should be,” he says quickly. “I hear about your classroom all the time.”

“No.” I shake my head. “Do not try to praise me right now because it’s going to fall on deaf ears. Just get out.”

“Not until you let me explain.”

“What’s there to explain, Arlo?” I say on a sob. “They asked you what you thought of my teaching. You told them.”

“I said there was potential.”

“Potential? As if you dust some of your stodgy teaching on me, I might be able to keep it together long enough to help a student?”

“No—”

“Well . . . fuck you,” I say, the words slipping past me before I can stop them. “God . . . fuck you, Arlo. You’re such an asshole. I should have known that from the very beginning. I did, actually, but I let my heart get the best of me. Well, not again. You might have been important to me ten minutes ago, but now, you’re nothing to me. This job is important. Helping kids is what’s important. And my confidence in my ability to shape young minds is important, and I don’t need shitty people like you trying to tear me down.” I point to the door behind him. “Leave.”

His eyes shine, his expression nearly breaking me, but I turn away.

“Greer, I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”

“Sorry means nothing to me.” I gather my things, feeling his eyes on me the entire time. “If you’re not going to leave, then I will.” I blow past him, my shoulder bumping into his just as I realize what I have in my purse. I pause as my lip trembles. I reach into my purse and pull out the key to his house. Turning around, I hold it up to him and say, “I don’t need this anymore.”

A single tear falls down his cheek as he takes it, and before he can shred my heart apart anymore, I take off.