Always Alone | ✓

Chapter Nine

I WAKE UP the next day with an unrelenting headache. Little by little my brain begins to inflate, running out of room in my cranium and pressing into my skull.

I couldn't sleep at all last night. I kept turning in bed, tangling myself in the sheets like a mummy, trying to come up with ways for my students to retain information.

What hurts the most is that I thought I was doing a good job. They seemed to like the activities we did in class. However, their enthusiasm doesn't show on the test scores. Sadly, that's what Mrs. Garcia and the District will be looking at.

I don't know where I went wrong. Is it that I don't speak Spanish? I took Spanish in high school and remember a few things. Not enough to hold a conversation, but the basics like hola, adios, and no hablo español.

"Ugh," I grunt as another pound hammers my head and press my forefingers into my temples, finding some relief. Stupid headache be damned. I get out of bed and walk to the bathroom with Angie in tow.

A nice hot bath will calm my nerves and then I can start up my computer and do more research. Maybe the tests aren't valid?

I turn on the water, letting it fill the bathroom with steam and rush to the kitchen in search of green tea bags. Five minutes later, I'm submerged in a green tea bath with a subdued headache. The pleasant aroma of the tea penetrates my pores. I think back to the last time I was this relaxed.

Never.

All my life I had to worry about what Jess was doing. How much trouble would she get into if Mom and Dad found out she sneaked out? Would I be to blame, too? When would she come home?

As I grew older, all those worries transferred to school, passing the PECT, and not letting my parents down. Then, I worried about finding a job, and now that I have one, I'm worried I made the worst mistake of my life and became a teacher.

But deep down I know I was placed on this earth for greatness; to make an actual change in a child's life. So, I relinquish the thought of being a teacher a mistake because God gave me a gift. He gave each and every one of His children a present. The thing is that He hides them well, like a hidden egg on Easter and that's why it takes us longer to open them.

I unwrapped mine when I was four and it contained a chalkboard.

With a coffee cup in hand, I walk to the balcony where the sun stands proudly in the cloudless sky, illuminating the day with its blinding light. A beam of sunshine heats my cheek. I close my eyes, enjoying the soft breeze of the ocean ahead.

Although it's the beginning of December, it's a perfect day to go for a swim. This makes me picture myself in frozen Pennsylvania swimming around this time. Unless it'd be a heated pool, no one will be doing any swimming up north around this time or me right now for that matter. I look down at my cast and think, just a few more days.

Grabbing my laptop, I sit back in the rattan chair on my balcony and continue with my research. There's a peer/buddy system that catches my eye and I continue surfing Pinterest and teaching blogs for ideas and more information on how the system works.

I'm so engrossed in what I'm reading that the sudden ring of my phone makes me jump in my seat.

Heavens!

"Good morning Mom," I say, smiling into the phone.

"Genevieve? Oh, good. You're alive," Mom says, a hint of sass in her tone.

"I'm surprised it took you, what?" I pause. "Three days to check up on me."

Mom puffs. "I was busy. What's your excuse?" I can picture her with a hand on her hip and her chin raised high.