Kate, 29

Chapter 26

Kate, 29 

It’s a school night, and I’m going out, which is a rare occurrence. In my experience, if you go out on a school night and you are out past nine, all of your students get a text alert �" then in the morning they gather hours before school starts, and I mean all of them, even the kids who are perpetually late day in and day out. There’s always perfect attendance on those days. The topic of their conversation is:

Even the kid who never speaks in class raises his hand, along with that one kid who is so high all the time he can’t express a coherent thought in class - today he decided to forgo his morning wake and bake... and their ideas are absolutely brilliant.

And they all take notes on these devious plots; even the kid who never has a notebook or a pencil when he shows up to class �" everyone is prepared. They all put their names on the top of their page, and the date, and all of their handwriting is flawless. 

And the entire day IS A LIVING HELL - because even the kids who can’t follow basic directions ninety-nine percent of the time know their roles in it all, and they play them meticulously without hiccup. And even the kids you adore as though they are literally your own children put your love to the test. Everything goes exactly as they’ve planned �" a well-oiled, destructive, violent, rude and crude machine. 

Everything goes wrong, and you start to wonder if the entire staff received the same alert as the students, because half-way through the day you’re on the verge of strangling one of them. It’s pure chaos, absolute mayhem - there’s a fire alarm malfunction in the middle of a snow storm and it’s six degrees and you left your jacket inside, a kid throws up in the middle of class and it sets off a domino effect that ends in five different people’s vomit on your carpet �" yours included. 

There’s always something - a lockdown drill and the kids push you to your absolute brink by being complete jackasses �" and it kills you to do it, but you go on a twenty minute, overly intense tirade about the importance of student safety, and how they should all be embarrassed with themselves �" but you have to do it, even if you maybe go a little overboard, because at the end of the day your most important job is to keep your kids safe.

    There’s bloodshed, broken bones, a raccoon loose in the building, or a fight that breaks over whether or not the sky is f*****g blue. True stories. Three years of teaching and it’s all happened, and that’s only the half of it. But it’s always the days after you go out that it happens. So, long story short �" I don’t go out on school nights.  

But… this is only a school night in technicality. It’s Tuesday, December 17th, but there’s a storm coming tonight, 8-12 inches of snow from midnight on, maybe more in Providence �" and there isn’t a chance in hell we’re having school tomorrow. You should know that in addition to having the summers off, which is maybe tied with the students as being the best part of being a teacher �" snow days fall a close third. 

Think about this �" on the nicest days of the year and the absolute worst �" I never have to go to work, which is something few people can say and makes life remarkably easier and unquestionably better. 

I’m not even kidding when I tell you this �" I have a bumper sticker on my minivan with a big red heart and the word Snow Days written inside of it. It’s a Sunday kind of love - the type of love that if I were a student, I’d be doodling my initials on my on notebook, drawing a big heart, then right next to that heart, writing the words “Snow Days” leaving the confession of my adoration for those glorious days for every and all to see my message of love so they might spread it on.

Unlike the days where you go to school after going out that are sheer misery and you go home feeling like gone through hell and back, certain that you’ve chosen the wrong career, and that every student is your mortal enemy and it compels you to write up an insanely difficult pop quiz fueled by the passion of the fiery hells that there isn’t a student who in the world who could pass �" snow days are like Christmas, Hanukkah, Thanksgiving, your birthday, and every other day of celebration you can imagine, all wrapped up in one surprise package with your name written on the label. They are like blessings from the gods �" bestowed upon me from the heavens.

You can do whatever you want. You can be productive and catch up on grading or create some fun lessons that integrate arts into the next class to liven things up. You can take long breaks in between shoveling, and can stay ahead of those goddamn ice chunks that end up piled three feet high at the end of the driveway. 

But you don’t really have to do any of that. You don’t have to leave unless you want to. You can sit out in your yard, build a snowman, then still have twenty-two hours before you have to get up and go to work again. It’s magical. You can lounge around, play video games in your cozy pajama pants, and while other people are out there in boots and shivering �" you’re sipping a piping hot cup of coffee (or cocoa) in your fuzzy socks and slippers �" doing whatever the hell you want to do with your time found, which is the best kind of time, bar none. 

But as excited as I am for the undoubted cancellation tomorrow, I’m doubly excited because I have a good feeling about the girl that I met online today. I haven’t gone out in a few weeks and it’s my first date back on the scene after my encouragement from, of all sources, Rosa Cortez �" but there’s something about this one… 

    Sometimes I have to reel myself in when I see something in a profile, or maybe in a picture or during our text conversations that I find overwhelmingly attractive. It could be one of a million things, but it always sends me into this momentary mental tailspin where I drift into the future and have these visions of our beautiful life together �" our house and our kids, our love and trust and undeniable happiness. Sometimes I feel like I actually go there, to that euphoric place �" and I just want to stay there forever with… what’s her name again? Oh, yeah. Kate. 

    The source of my delight at the prospect of Kate cannot be reduced to a single observation of her profile which I’ve read at least six times, but of the entire package she possesses - the incredibly articulate nature of her words, her fascinatingly similar interests, the abundance of photos of her looking absolutely adorable  �" or the other photos of her looking casual, laid back and lovable with her dog - a border collie who looks like a nearly spitting-image of Bear, my childhood dog that was literally my best friend in the world for the first ten years of my life, or that meeting that dog would allow me to relive some of the greatest moments of my children, and would make me shed the best types of tears, those of beautiful remembrance.

    Aiding and abetting my current state of near-smitten is the conversation we had throughout the day which was nothing short of captivating, much of which was about a common interest we share. 

No, not an interest, a dream. 

No, not a dream �" bring those trumpets out and start playing…

The Dream. Kate wants to be a writer, and at twenty-nine is working on her first novel. Like me, she’s embattled in the process of ups and downs, but I can tell that I’m not alone in having an eternal flame inside, one that will see the process through to the end despite the bumps along the way. 

    My students knew something was up �" and they knew that even the man with a giant snow day sticker on his minivan was extra excited today, even more laid back and cooler than usual, and not just because it’s the week before Christmas. He laughed more, smiled more, gave the kids a break, was maybe even generous with grading, decided to scrap the homework and let the inmates run the asylum without incident �" all because he was sitting there, giggling like a little kid and anxiously waiting for his phone to ding, absolutely enraptured by Kate, 29.

Wait… there’s a possibility… Snowmageddon �" like back in 2017 when schools were closed for three days. The thought of it alone is enough to send me in a tailspin. Kate and I are there in our house with Leia and her Bear-look alike and the two kids. D****t. Snap out of it. I haven’t even met her yet. 

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Drinking on a school night. 

Three drinks on a school night. 

Drinking on a school night. 

Gonna be a good night. 

I literally made up this song, and it’s been stuck on repeat in my mind. There are bongo drums, a keyboard, a mellow guitar, and a chorus that repeats the words “Snow day, snow reggae” in a Jamaican accent. I’ve even devised and choreographed a music video. 

Picture this �" a snow day on a frosty beach �" and out of nowhere the sun starts shining down and we’re out there in our shorts, and we’re sweating because it’s frickin  hot out. There’s a dude smoking a joint while he bangs the bongos, smiling the whole time because it’s a snow day and he’s living the best day of his life. The guitar player has sunglasses on, thick dreadlocks covered with a yellow and green hat and he sways his head casually and coolly like he’s so damn happy to be exactly where he is at this exact moment. The keyboardist has a tall and colorful drink in one hand while he hits a killer solo with the other �" and I’m there with the microphone, bobbing and swaying, taking rips from the bong during the instrumentals and shouting my message with pride about sweet snow days. Even Luke and Leia are there, glub-glubbing and barking along.

I’m still torn on the name of the band, but it’s a close race between The Snow Jams, and Snow on Mount Zion. 

Have you ever been completely lost in something, like in your mind you are totally astray and almost feel like you are living on a different planet than your own? That’s where I am �" and sometimes it can be a wacky, wild place to be, but I’m not alone. Kate is right there with me in this mystical realm... 

“Dude, what if the guitarist smashed his guitar at the end of the song and all the snow melts and we’re just standing there in the sun and we all run into the water,” she says, tapping her fingers on the bar in perfect rhythm with the drums in my brain before closing her eyes and whispering “Snow day, snow reggae.” 

I forgot to add that in the video, she’s playing the tambourine, adding back-up vocals, wearing a small, black bikini with little green pot leaves on it �" and by her own confession, she looks, “hotter than a grease fire, mon.”

See what I mean? She’s with me �" no one’s ever spiraled so far down the rabbit hole so far, and after five drinks in two hours, it’s now well after eleven on what would have otherwise been a school night, and we’ve been wonderfully trapped in this world the entire time, and I’m ready to stay in it with her forever. This girl is beyond amazing. Physically? Flawless. Intelligence-wise? Brilliant. Conversation quality? The utmost. My interest levels? Through the roof and immeasurable by all means. 

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We decided to take a walk to a smaller, quieter place around the corner for one last drink, and it seems like a good decision. We’ve talked about everything from our dogs (her border collie’s name is Marco - terrible name, but to each their own), to movies, TV shows and our favorite books �" our hopes, dreams, wildest wishes, work, and about the novels we’re writing �" and I have no doubt while listening to her describe her plot, characters and setting in beautiful, intricate detail, that the passion we share is real. 

“I don’t know,” she says, “I think it’s a masterpiece. Right up there with To Kill a Mockingbird...” 

I chuckle and assume she’s joking but I like the confidence - but doubt the likelihood that it’s even close to TKAM, which, like most English teachers, is on my Mount Rushmore of legendary and unsurpassable books. 

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       It’s closing time at the restaurant, but I’m not ready to close the night on Kate. I haven’t had this much fun with anyone in… I don’t even know how long, long enough that I can’t remember. Kate and I walk out together, holding hands, which is a good sign. 

It’s already snowing out, coming down pretty hard �" and I’m probably a little drunk to be driving. It’s not too cold, and it’s only a ten minute or so walk back to my house, and my new goal for the year is to lose a total of fifty-five pounds, so I don’t mind. 

“So, that was fun, huh?” I say, unable to control my smile but not caring the least.

“Yeah man. Snooooow day…. Snoooooow reggae….” She sings. “When can we get together again to work on our next single?” 

“Whenever you’re free,” I say �" a strange and unusual sensation rushing over me as I think back on the months of my foray into the online dating scene, and realizing that for the first time, I’ll be going on a second date with one of the women I’ve met. Kate’s Uber pulls up, she gives me a hug, steps back and smiles at me, leans in and gives me a kiss on the cheek. 

    “I had a great time,” she says, reaching for the door, “Call me.” 

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I’m back home with Luke and Leia, telling them all about my night, and also congratulating myself in their voices for how well things went. I really like Kate. She’s being beautiful, funny and quirky with just a dash of nerdiness, and so much fun to be around. I learned a lot about her tonight. Like me, she’s a dreamer �" getting lost in her own head, lost in the world around her at times �" seeing beauty in the mundane, finding it in the darkest places. But she also has bigger dreams, a passion that she wants to pursue for no other reason than the love she feels for it �" and it’s the same passion I share and together we could push each other to achieve The Dream. No. Our Dream. 

It’s well past midnight by the time I lay down, and the snow is coming down pretty hard. I send Kate a good night text and thank her for a great time. She responds within seconds, says, “Good night. Thank you too. So much fun! Enjoy the snow day, snow reggae.” 

I will enjoy it, and maybe Snowmaggedon will last through the week and Christmas break will come early. I fall asleep thinking about all of the things Kate and I can do together. Writing… reading… movies… build a snowman…