Slammed(77)

"Yes, it's in your sewing kit," I say.

"I have a sewing kit?"

"It's in your laundry room."

I can't believe he doesn't know this. I clean his house once and I can tell him where everything is better than he can? "It's next to the sewing machine on the shelf behind your mother's patterns. I put them in chronological order according to pattern nu-nevermind," I say as I stand up. "I'll just show you."

"You put his patterns in chronological order?" My mother asks, perplexed.

I turn back to her as we're headed to the door. "I was having a bad day."

Will and I head across the street and I use the opportunity to ask him about what happened with his internship. I didn't want to ask him in front of Caulder, because I wasn't sure if he had said anything to him.

"I got a slap on the wrist," he says as we walk inside. "They told me since I was defending another student, they couldn’t really hold it against me."

"That's good. What about your internship?" I say as I walk through the kitchen and into the laundry room where I grab the sewing kit.

"Well, it's a little tricky. The only available ones they had are here in Ypsilanti, but they were all primary. My major is secondary, so I've been placed at a school in Detroit."

I pause what I'm doing and look at him.

"What's that mean? Are y'all moving?"

He sees the worry cross my face and he laughs. "No, Lake, we're not moving. It's just for eight weeks. I'll be doing a lot of driving, though. I was actually going to talk to you and your mom about it later. I'm not going to be able to take the boys to school, or pick them up either. I'll be gone a lot. I know this isn't a good time to ask for your help-"

"Stop it." I grab the tape measure and return the contents into the box. "You know we'll help."

Will follows me as I walk back to the laundry room and replace the sewing kit next to the sewing machine. My hand brushes against the patterns that are neatly stacked in chronological order as I recall all the cleaning and alphabetizing I did the previous weekend. Is it possible, that maybe I had a momentary lapse of sanity? I shake my head and reach over and flick off the light switch when I run into Will. He's leaning against the doorframe with his head resting against the wall. It's dark now, since I've switched off the light, but his face is slightly illuminated by the glow from the kitchen behind him.

A warm sensation flows through me as I try not to get my hopes up. He's got that look in his eyes again.

"Last night," he whispers. "When I saw Javi kissing you…" His voice trails off and he is silent for a moment. "I thought you were kissing him back."

It’s hard when he's in such close proximity, but I do my best to focus and process his confession. If he thought I was allowing it to happen, then why did he pull Javi off of me? Why did he punch him? Then it hits me. Will wasn't defending me last night, he was jealous.

"Oh," is all I can say.

"I didn't know the whole story until this morning, when you told your version," he says as he continues to block my way; making me stand in the dark.

“God, Lake. I can't tell you how pissed I was. I wanted to hurt him so bad. And now? Now that I know he really was hurting you, I want to kill him." He turns away from me and rests his back against the doorframe.

I think back on last night and the emotions Will must have been experiencing. To be professing his love for me on stage one minute and then thinking I was making out with Javi the next. No wonder he was so pissed on the drive home.

He's still blocking my way. Not that I plan on running anywhere. My entire body is tense, not knowing what he’s about to say or do. I try to relax as I exhale. My breathing has increased so rapidly in the last minute, my lungs are starting to ache again as the knot in my back reminds me of its presence.

"How did you-" I stutter. "How'd you know I was there?"

He turns and faces me, placing both hands on either side of the doorframe. His height and the way he has me blocked in are intimidating, but in a very good way.

"I saw you. When I finished my piece, I saw you leaving."

My knees start to fail me so I place my hand on the dryer behind me for support. He knows I saw him perform. Why is he telling me this? I do my best not to get my hopes up, but maybe since he is no longer my teacher, we can finally be together. Maybe that's what he's trying to tell me.