Work Text:
"Good morning, everyone!" I say with far more enthusiasm than I currently feel as I walk into my classroom, coffee in hand. It’s only the first day back, but this morning has already dragged on seemingly forever. I am greeted by a chorus of "Good morning, Mr Grace!" From my students, most of whom are in their seats and, for once, look vaguely eager to learn.
"Did we all have a good spring break?" I ask, less out of wanting an actual answer and more to buy myself a few extra seconds basking in the glow of sweet, sweet caffeine. The kids are all talking over one another, and I catch a lot of familiar words like "Fortnite" and "Minecraft" and "Six Flags" and "Disneyland" and nothing that sounds remotely like "science project" or "homework". I take one final sip of my coffee, put it down on my desk and hold my hand up. The room goes silent.
"Ok, who can remember what we’re going to be covering this semester?"
…
50 minutes later, I’m wrapping up my overview of the topics we’ll be covering over the next few weeks when the lunch bell rings and cuts me off mid-sentence. Multiple students start pushing their chairs back, and I cough pointedly.
"Guys! I know we’ve been on vacation for two weeks, but come on, the bell doesn’t release you; I do," I remind everyone to a chorus of groans. "As I was saying, I want those title pages finished and stuck into the front of your books ready for Wednesday, ok?"
The word 'OK' rumbles back to me from around the room.
"And now you may go."
The room briefly becomes a hive of activity as chairs scrape, zippers whirr, and excited chatter buzzes. I make my way back to my desk and down the dregs of my now stone-cold coffee.
I’m debating whether or not to take a stroll to the canteen and see what culinary delights it might have to offer me or whether to stick with the slightly stale sandwich I brought from home when I realise I’m not alone. I turn around to see Abby, one of my slightly more anxious students, lurking in the room. I quickly check that the door to the hallway is open now that I’m alone in here with a student.
"Hey, Abby," I say, sitting down at my desk where I can clearly be seen by anyone passing, "is everything OK?"
"Yes, Mr Grace," she says with a nervous giggle, but I can tell she’s trying to work up to something. "I, erm, I wanted to tell you something about my spring break."
"Oh, ok," I say, giving her a slightly confused smile.
"It’s just that..." she pauses for a moment, then launches into the fastest, most breathless speech I’ve ever heard from her. "It was my birthday and my parents got me tickets to the Taylor Swift concert and it was in another state so we had to drive to Arizona and stay in a hotel and it was really cool and the show was amazing and I remember you said that you tried to get a ticket but couldn't so I wanted to tell you."
I laugh as she pauses for breath.
"That's really great that you got to go to the Eras Tour; I'm not at all jealous," I say with a wink.
"I got like, over a hundred friendship bracelets," she tells me, reaching into her pocket and withdrawing one. "I was looking through them over the weekend deciding which ones to wear today, and I remembered you said one time that this was your favourite Taylor song, so, I wanted you to have this one because you didn't get to go."
She hands me the bracelet, and I take it without really thinking. I turn it over in my hand and spot that the beads read, "this is me trying". My breath hitches a little, but I cover it up by fake clearing my throat. I think I get away with it.
"Are you sure you don't want to keep this?" I ask. Abby shakes her head.
"I got so many they don't even fit in the massive jar my mom bought me to keep them in!"
I smile and slip the bracelet onto my wrist.
"Thank you, that's really thoughtful of you, Abby. Now you'd better hurry up and get to the canteen or they'll pack up before you've been served."
"I will, thank you, Mr Grace!"
She disappears out of the door, leaving me in silence. I bring my arm up in front of my face and stare at the bracelet now encircling my wrist, the black and white letter beads standing out starkly against the pale skin covering veins I had stared long and hard at during a different, much darker time in my life.
***
I'm back in my old apartment; the suitcase from my Denmark trip is still open on the living room floor, where it has lain for weeks since I got home. I still hadn't unpacked; I didn't see the point.
I'd lost everything, and I had only myself to blame.
I'd barely left the building since I got back, other than to go to the grocery store and buy pots of ramen and more beer than could be considered reasonable. I had nowhere to go and nothing to do, so I spent my days idly goggling at awful daytime TV, drinking beer after beer, and watching the balance in my checking account get steadily lower with absolutely no idea what I was going to do about it and no inclination to try anything anyway.
The radio was on, and I'd mostly been ignoring it until that song started to play. I had no idea why because I didn't even care much for Taylor Swift, but I started paying attention to the lyrics, and then the second verse hit:
They told me all of my cages were mental
So I got wasted like all my potential
And my words shoot to kill when I'm mad
I have a lot of regrets about that
It felt like she was standing in the room and singing right at me. Like she was ripping my chest open and pulling the words straight out of my heart. It hurt more than I could have imagined, mental anguish instantly becoming physical pain.
For the first time since I'd been kicked out of the conference, I felt my outer shell crack, and I began to cry. Not just cry; bawl. I sat on the hard floor with my back against the couch and wailed like a wounded animal.
I just wanted you to know
That this is me trying
Through my tears I managed to grab my phone and look up the song to figure out what it was. For the next hour I sat there listening to it on repeat, sobbing and shaking and letting out everything that had been eating me up from the inside.
Eventually my vision cleared enough that I was able to type out a message. Marissa had practically blown up my phone when she heard what happened, but I'd ignored every one of her texts and calls, not feeling like I deserved her sympathy. Now, I managed a shaky six-word text:
i think i need your help
My phone rang within seconds, despite it being 2pm on a work day.
That was the moment I began to turn my life around.
***
Back in my classroom, I get up and close the door, locking it for privacy. I usually keep my classroom door open during lunch so the quieter kids can come in and get away from the noise, but right now I need a few moments for myself. I slip my phone out of my jacket pocket and put my headphones in, scrolling to the song I haven't listened to in a while. It takes me back, but in a good way; I know how far I've come since then.
As the song plays, I snap a picture of the bracelet on my wrist, then send it along with a quick message to Marissa.
[12.17PM] R: Thanks for everything.
[12.18PM] M: You ok???
[12.18PM] R: Yeah. Student gave me this, made me think I hadn't said thank you in a while.
[12.19PM] M: Stop being sappy at work you weirdo.
[12.19PM] R: Love you too, ass-butt.
[12.21PM] M: 😘
The song ends, and I put my phone away again and reopen my door. A couple of kids are hanging around in the hallways outside, so I invite them in and pull my sandwiches out of my backpack. I can't think of anywhere else I'd rather eat lunch.