Everfirma Table (11)

At a square-dance gathering, Chris admitted that his sister Brenda had urged him for two years to try something like this, asking only that he not remain in the parking lot; after spending about four minutes there, he considered himself ahead of schedule. He said he had been mostly fine, then joined Jen in returning to the floor when the woman in the yellow cardigan claimed an open place in her square. Chris said they owed her after nearly taking her out in the first round and warned Jen that he only knew do-si-do and promenade, treating every other call as a suggestion. The woman, a short silver-haired woman in her mid-sixties with reading glasses atop her head, directed them into position and approved Chris’s strategy of not thinking and just moving.

As the reel began, Jen’s feet remembered the calls from long ago, and she found herself enjoying the dance. Chris hesitated through allemande left but managed it, then visibly relaxed at do-si-do. The yellow-cardigan woman introduced herself as Donna, said the group met every third Thursday and that most people quit after one night, and urged Jen to bring Chris back because he listened. Jen began to correct Donna that she did not know Chris, then reflected that although Chris had been her neighbor for six years—his Room 116 beside her Room 114—she had learned his name only an hour earlier, along with Brenda and his fifteen-year-old company-retreat dance experience. At promenade home, Chris confidently offered Jen his arm, and they completed the dance without losing anyone. As Donna moved on to organize another square, Jen and Chris agreed that Donna would know if they failed to return in three weeks. The evening had not yet ended, and Jen and Chris remained together in the hall, not yet heading for the door.

At a square dance, Jen and Chris realize they have spent six years teaching ten feet apart at Millbrook High, Jen in Room 114 and Chris in Room 116, both eating lunch alone at their desks. With Donna directing the floor and the caller beginning another square, Jen and Chris join it together. Chris still knows only “two moves,” but follows Jen’s lead through the dance; at the final promenade, he offers his arm and Jen takes it. Afterward, Jen invites Chris and his sister Brenda to Everfirma Community Church (ECC), saying services begin at ten o’clock and that, if they do not come, Jen will see Chris on the third Thursday. Chris says Brenda would probably agree before he finished asking, then asks what time church starts and repeats “Ten o’clock” as Jen leaves with the planner and water bottle.

Driving home, Jen calls Lester and recounts meeting Chris, the six years they had never spoken despite their adjacent classrooms, his shy humor and limited dancing, and the invitation to ECC. Lester teases Jen but says it is genuinely nice that Chris asked the service time; Jen says Donna, in her yellow cardigan, also counts as an acquaintance from the good night. Jen invites Lester to the eleven o’clock service on Sunday; after saying he will think about it, Lester agrees to come and says he is glad Jen went. Jen reaches home, takes the planner from the passenger seat, and goes inside.

Jen returned home after the square dance, set her planner on the kitchen counter, drank water, and let the quiet make the evening feel distant. Saturday passed in laundry, lesson plans, and groceries, but on Sunday she went to Everfirma Community Church, taking her usual seat in the third pew on the left. Mrs. Okafor, in a plum dress with a corsage, greeted her across the aisle; the Hendersons settled behind Jen with their young son. Just before the processional, Chris arrived and sat two rows behind her. Jen turned to silently acknowledge that he had actually come, and Chris answered with a caught-out smile. Pastor Smith preached about showing up to things that scare you, while the choir’s offertory music moved Jen. Afterward, while Chris waited uncertainly by his pew, Jen made her usual rounds—Mrs. Okafor squeezed her hand, the Hendersons spoke of their son’s school play, and a hospitality-committee woman mentioned next month’s potluck—then joined Chris. He admitted the music was better than expected, sincerely meant as a compliment, and Jen was glad it had affected him too.

Chris said Brenda had texted before he reached the church parking lot and was pleased with herself for sending him out twice in one week. Discussing the approaching school term, he said he kept moving one unit around his calendar; Jen said she had a few days before reporting officially and might stop by school. Though Chris’s classroom was Room 116, next to hers, she teased that she only wanted to see whether he would tell her. She said she would probably be in Tuesday and Thursday, and Chris promised to leave his door open. Mrs. Okafor joined them, and Jen introduced Chris as her six-year neighbor and a history teacher at Millbrook High. Learning he taught mostly American history, Mrs. Okafor noted that her late husband had taught it for thirty-one years at Lincoln High before it closed, then told Chris, “You’re welcome here.” Chris called her terrifying in the best way; Jen said her approval was high praise. As Chris left, confirmed for Tuesday or Thursday, and said he would tell Brenda the church had survived him, Jen told him Brenda had made a good call. At the rear doors, Jen saw Lester, tall and broad-shouldered in a dark green jacket, arriving late but having taken the invitation seriously. She met him in the emptying sanctuary; he said he had promised to come and called it a good room. Asked whether it was a good morning, Jen said yes. The week remained ahead, with two days before school and Chris’s open classroom door beside hers.

After Sunday service at the sanctuary, Jen went to Rosario’s, a sandwich shop two blocks away, with Lester. He noted that Chris, the history teacher Jen had known for six years without speaking to, had attended church and met Mrs. Okafor; Jen insisted Mrs. Okafor had introduced herself. Over turkey on sourdough for Jen and an Italian sandwich for Lester, Jen told him about Chris teaching at Millbrook, their square dance and two moves together, and Chris’s sister texting him before he reached the parking lot. Jen called Chris a new friend with similar interests and school-schedule concerns—“Lester 2.0”—while Lester said a new person was good, without pressing further. Jen asked about Lester’s work, and he described consulting on a downtown mixed-use renovation of an old brick building whose owners wanted it opened up without losing its bones. Jen said Chris might visit school Tuesday or Thursday and leave his door open.

Jen invited Lester to Donna’s square dancing at the community center every third Thursday, suggesting he could observe with Donna, who wore a yellow cardigan and had strong opinions on footwork; the geometry of the dancing interested him enough that his “I’ll think about it” became “Okay. Maybe.” Lester told Jen that if Chris came to school Tuesday and they talked in the hallway for forty-five minutes, that would be fine. Jen asked him not to make her nervous, saying she would otherwise hide in her room rearranging her bulletin board and rereading her Odyssey unit, including the assignment where students write from Penelope’s point of view. Lester let the matter go, and they finished lunch, split the check, and left. On the sidewalk, Lester called it a good morning, and Jen agreed; they parted at the corner, Lester heading off and Jen heading home to her planner, with two days until she would return to Millbrook High and find Chris’s open door in Room 116.

Jen arrived at Millbrook High at 4:40 a.m., badged in through the side entrance, and found Room 116 across the hall still dark. In her own classroom, she made a four-line planner list for Chris: whether his moving unit had landed anywhere, his schedule and plan-period block, his lunch A/B/C, and that the third Thursday was still two weeks away. She played Ella and Louis, revised the Penelope point-of-view prompt in her Odyssey unit, rebuilt her bulletin board, then bought donuts and iced tea at Benny’s. Sitting on her classroom floor, she worked through seating charts—twenty-two students in first period, seventeen in third, then fourth—while eating a glazed and a chocolate-frosted donut, leaving donuts in the box and letting the iced tea run low.

Around 8:15, Chris unlocked Room 116 and turned on its lights. Jen, anxious despite their prior conversations at a square dance, church, the parking lot, and after Rosario’s, reminded herself she had a reasonable list and donuts. She stacked the unfinished fourth-period cards, took the donut box and planner, left the nearly empty iced tea behind, and crossed the hall. Chris, at his desk with papers and reading glasses pushed onto his forehead, said he had arrived at 7:30 and felt good about it; Jen said she had been there since 4:40. She offered the three remaining donuts from Benny’s, explaining she was not going to finish them. When Chris said he had not eaten, Jen replied that she had figured, then sat in the chair across from him with her planner’s talking-points page face-down. With the school year two days away and the parking lot filling outside, Jen opened the donut box toward Chris.

Jen brought donuts to Chris Beaumont in Room 116, and he gratefully took one while explaining that he was rewriting his yearlong history scope and sequence to front-load primary sources; the Civil War had become a recurring “condition” rather than a contained unit. When Chris asked what Jen taught, she described teaching mostly tenth-grade English and having students write an Odyssey assignment from Penelope’s point of view. He praised it as the kind of work that makes students realize they have been doing history all along. Jen left before overstaying, joking that the four feet across the hall to her own room was an arduous hike; Chris laughed and called after her, “Brave of you to attempt the return journey.” Jen answered in an unexplained British accent, then wished the Civil War kindness in his work. Back in Room 114, she prepared for Tuesday: arranging fourth-period seating cards with Darius in the front row and Mackenzie by the window, writing her name and room number on the whiteboard, sorting Odyssey copies, noting a projector-bulb question in her planner, and checking supplies while Bobby Bryant played. Students would arrive in two days. Jen expected Lester to have opinions about her choices, and wondered whether Chris normally left his door open. Adaeze, a new reading specialist with natural locs, a Millbrook badge, and a “READING IS RESISTANCE” tote, arrived looking for Jen Okafor after the office gave her an outdated list. Jen clarified that she was Jen Wailey; Adaeze laughed at the error, spoke warmly about her tote and the commitment of locs, and asked for Chris Beaumont next door.

Jen privately compared herself unfavorably to Adaeze’s confidence and style, then set the thought aside and brought Adaeze to Room 116. Chris introduced himself, confirmed that Jen’s surname was Okafor “like from church,” and began talking with Adaeze about history after Jen returned to her own room. Hearing their indistinct conversation across the hall, Jen recognized her jealousy and reminded herself that she had arrived at 4:40 that morning, revised a Penelope prompt, rebuilt a bulletin board, sorted sixty-one seating cards, bought donuts, spoken to Chris, made him laugh twice, and introduced a new colleague rather than hiding in her room. Her planner’s unused talking points—moving unit, schedule and plan period, lunch block, and third Thursday—remained face-down; she had not raised any of them with Chris. Jen packed up, discarded the last of her iced tea, and left Room 114 mostly shut while Room 116’s door remained open. In the warming, half-full parking lot, she got into her car knowing Lester would ask how it went. “It went fine” was true but incomplete, and she expected to keep thinking about it through Tuesday, when students would fill the hallway and there would be no quiet-building excuse to cross to Room 116.

Jen left the school with all four planner questions unasked—moving unit, schedule, lunch block, and third Thursday—and met Lester at Rosario’s. She told him about arriving at 4:40 with donuts, talking Civil War primary sources with Chris, and making him laugh twice before Adaeze arrived: confident, stylish, wearing locs and carrying a tote bag. Jen had felt like a “rough draft” beside Adaeze, but still introduced her to Chris and returned to her room. Lester, a compact gray-templed man in his mid-fifties, told Jen she had done the generous thing while feeling the ungenerous one. Over a chicken salad sandwich with extra bacon, he noted that Jen’s “wild goose chase” had included making Chris laugh twice, and that she had left only after confirming Chris and Adaeze’s conversation was going fine.

Lester reminded Jen that the third-Thursday square dance was two weeks away; Jen had invited him, and his “maybe” seemed nearly a yes. He suggested she could ask Chris the practical schedule question in the hallway Tuesday, when students returned, rather than saving her talking points for the dance. Jen said she would think about it. After finishing her sandwich, she and Lester hugged beside their cars and agreed on “Tuesday.” At home, Jen decided the morning had been good: Chris had treated her as worth talking to, she had made him laugh twice, and she had introduced Adaeze without making things awkward before finishing her seating cards. She left the planner closed, resolved to speak ordinarily to Chris if the right moment came Tuesday, and planned to attend the square dance in comfortable clothes whether or not Chris came; Lester would probably attend, Donna would be organizing near the refreshments, and Chris might come because his sister Brenda encouraged him toward such events. School starts in two days, and Jen feels ready.

Jen drove to school, badged in through the side entrance after eight, and finished preparing Room 114: laminating and hanging two anchor charts, placing Darius’s card front-row center and Mackenzie’s by the window, and getting Garrett, the building tech with a key-filled lanyard, to replace the projector bulb. By ten, the room held sixty-one seating cards, a clean whiteboard, and Odyssey copies stacked in sets of thirty. Across the hall in Room 116, Jen asked Chris about lunch; both had B lunch at 11:40. Chris agreed to knock on some days so they could eat rather than grade through lunch, admitting he once called half a granola bar at 2:15 lunch. They spoke about the coming first day, and Chris confessed that even after twenty-three years he was still nervous the night before school, afraid he had forgotten how to teach until first period brought it back.

When Jen described being introverted despite hiding its cost, Chris recognized the feeling, recalling a student who thought he was comfortable while he had been eating half a Tums in the parking lot. They joked that Jen would be a librarian and Chris a lighthouse keeper, though Chris said he would last only four days alone. With the building waking around them, Chris confirmed, “B lunch. Tomorrow,” and Jen promised, “Tomorrow.” Back in Room 114, Jen found all preparations complete and left the folded planner notes—moving unit, schedule, lunch block, third Thursday—unopened; the lunch question had been answered directly. Jen gathered a water bottle, planner, and bag, left the ready classroom, and drove away looking forward to Chris knocking at 11:40 the next day. Jen considered telling Lester soon that it had gone fine, though that no longer felt complete enough.

Jen settled into the school day in Room 114, greeting familiar students melodically and welcoming new ones until teaching felt natural again. At 11:38, Jen crossed the hall to eat lunch with Chris in his classroom under their new rule of no school talk unless someone was actually on fire. Chris spoke about his sister, Brenda, a physical therapist with a practice on Clement Street; after her divorce six years earlier, Brenda had moved back to Millbrook and shared Chris’s house on Aldermoor, keeping the kitchen orderly while Chris fixed what broke. Brenda had pushed Chris to attend the August square dance. Jen shared that Jen’s brother in Texas was going through a divorce and had little bandwidth, but Jen’s friend Lester had repeatedly implied, over sandwiches, that attending the square dance was a good idea. Chris and Jen agreed they should both thank and blame Brenda and Lester. The lunch gave them both a chance to relax, and Chris asked to repeat it Thursday; Jen agreed. On Wednesday, Chris’s hallway nod confirmed the plan. Thursday, Jen arrived at Chris’s open classroom door to find Chris had already set aside his gradebook, but Adaeze stopped by with a tote bag and food, intending to seek company in the lounge. After Jen nodded, Chris invited Adaeze to use a third chair, reinstating the no-school-talk rule. Adaeze, who had spent two weeks eating amid phonics assessments, proved easy company; Chris said he had taught at Millbrook for twenty-three years.

When Adaeze asked how Jen and Chris knew each other, Jen said they had met at the end of summer and only then realized they had worked across the hall from each other for years. Chris added that they had met at a square dance because Brenda made him go, and Jen confirmed Brenda was Chris’s sister. Adaeze delighted in the square-dance origin and observed that, after only about two months, Jen and Chris already had a lunch system and no-school-talk rule. Hearing that Brenda had organized the monthly church square dance, Adaeze called “Brenda’s sister” a matchmaker; Jen corrected that Brenda was Chris’s sister, while Chris insisted organizing the event was different from matchmaking. Jen said everything else had happened naturally, but Adaeze’s amusement and Chris’s careful glance at Jen made the exchange feel charged. They ate until the bell, with the no-school-talk rule lapsing as Adaeze discussed a phonics screener. Back in Room 114, Jen found the three-person lunch unsettling despite liking Adaeze, set Lester’s visible phone contact face-down rather than explain the feeling, and taught the afternoon: an Odyssey discussion, calling on Marcus, redirecting Kayla twice, and writing “EPIC SIMILE” on the board. After the last student left at 3:12, Jen admitted that the matchmaking comment and uncertainty over whether Chris might be interested in Adaeze had made Jen care whether Sunday, Tuesday, and Thursday would change.

In the half-empty parking lot, Jen called Lester and asked him to listen without interrupting. Jen recounted Adaeze’s arrival, her locs and tote bag, her ginger-and-tomato-scented rice, Chris pulling out the third chair, the matchmaking remark, the untasted grape, and the long six steps back to Room 114. Lester asked what Jen was really afraid of; Jen named church on Sunday, whether Tuesday and Thursday would remain private lunches, and whether Chris would even attend the square dance, but finally admitted that things had been easier than expected and might no longer be. Lester said Adaeze had merely joined a lunch table and taken nothing, and noted Chris had looked at his container—not Adaeze—when matchmaking was mentioned. He told Jen to go home, eat something besides grapes, sleep, then attend church Sunday and see what it looked like; Jen promised to call afterward. Lester assured Jen that the easy part had not disappeared, only become frightening because it was real. Jen drove home in silence, with Sunday three days away and the next square dance two weeks away; before going inside, Jen sat in the driveway, holding onto Lester’s words that the easy part was still there.

Jen called Lester after baking biscuits and told him about seeing Chris at Sunday service, where Chris sat in the third pew from the back in a dark green shirt; they had met on the steps afterward and gone for sandwiches two blocks away. Jen could not stop thinking about how easy it had been. Lester called them “avoidance biscuits,” asked whether Chris had mentioned next Sunday, and advised Jen to eat, sleep, and see what Tuesday looked like. Monday’s school tasks—copying a vocabulary quiz, sorting summer-reading responses, and reporting a burned-out hallway bulb to Garrett—quieted Jen’s worry. At 11:40 B lunch on Tuesday, Jen found Chris in Room 116 with his gradebook set aside and lunch unpacked; the open door, no tote bag, and no third chair made the visit feel like an expected appointment. Over lunch, Chris asked whether Jen had always wanted to teach English. Jen accepted a cruller from his donut box and explained that Jen had begun in music education, studying theory and conducting alongside English courses, then switched majors when a senior recital loomed. Chris said he had nearly abandoned his history degree in junior year to open a bike repair shop called Spoke Volumes, but his father had told “Christopher” to finish the degree. Chris called teaching history the consolation prize and offered Jen the last glazed donut.

Jen split the glazed donut with Chris and said Jen was glad his father had talked him out of the shop because otherwise Jen might not have met him, though Spoke Volumes deserved a storefront and perhaps still could have one. Recalling Chris’s earlier joke about becoming a lighthouse keeper, Jen suggested he had a second life mapped out; Chris said lighthouse keeping was a retirement plan, but his older sister Brenda said he would last four days. Jen told him not to throw either dream away because something was always possible, then guessed Brenda was four years older; Chris confirmed it, fondly noting that Brenda had also urged him toward the bike shop after finding an old notebook containing his floor plan. When the bell rang, Chris said, “Thursday,” as a settled arrangement. Jen returned to Room 114 smiling, taught an Odyssey, Book IX discussion, called on Marcus twice, redirected Kayla once, and let the class debate whether Odysseus was the hero of his own story. After school, Jen remembered that Sunday would come before the square dance in two weeks, but Thursday would come before Sunday. In the cool September parking lot, Jen chose not to call Lester, started the car, and drove away holding onto Thursday.

Jen spent Thursday morning in Room 114 preparing *Their Eyes Were Watching God*: a worn paperback, yellow legal pad, and three color-coded discussion cards for the first two weeks. At lunch, Jen brought six warm biscuits—Lester’s “avoidance biscuits”—to Chris’s room. Jen told Chris about past dreams of opening a bakery or becoming a Sesame Street character with a specialized baking role; Chris laughed sincerely, called the biscuits evidence for the bakery, and suggested Elmo before agreeing Jen was better suited to baking. As they ate, Jen imagined Brenda, Lester, and possibly Donna forming a terrifying extrovert superhero team that would force people outside to do things. Chris agreed Brenda would love Lester, and he and Jen made a mock-solemn formal pact, sealed with a handshake, to keep Brenda and Lester on separate continents. Jen split the last biscuit with Chris, and Chris wrapped the remaining crumbs in the dish towel.

Neither Jen nor Chris shifted the conversation to schoolwork; Jen did not ask about Chris’s Civil War unit or mention Janie Crawford. When their bell rang, Chris returned the towel and said, “Sunday,” which Jen repeated. They parted for their classrooms with Sunday ahead of them, two weeks before the square dance. Back in Room 114, Jen shook the biscuit crumbs into the wastebasket, folded and stored the towel in the lunch bag, and returned to the Janie Crawford materials. Jen considered the lunch—biscuits, Sesame Street talk, the pact, and easy silence—a good Thursday. Friday’s quizzes and email, and Saturday’s groceries and quiet house, remained ahead, but Jen held Sunday as the next true thing, unsettled but welcome. Jen also expected Donna, in a yellow cardigan, and probably Brenda at the square dance, remained curious about Brenda’s recovery of Chris’s brother’s old bike-shop floor plan, and kept the likely friendship between Brenda and Lester private. Jen resumed preparing for sixth period, expecting Marcus to have an opinion about Janie and Kayla to need redirecting.

Jen arrived early at ECC in September, dressed in teal-collared shirt and overalls, and waited by the sanctuary doors for Chris. Chris, wearing a gray sweater and dark slacks, accepted Jen’s invitation to sit together, holding the door as they entered. During the service, they shared a bulletin for the Psalm 46 responsive reading and listened to Pastor Reeves preach from Ruth. Afterward, Renata, a congregant with a baby and toddler, greeted Jen and remarked that Jen had “brought someone.” Renata introduced herself and her husband Marcus, who teaches PE, and Chris introduced himself as a history teacher in his third week at the school. Chris quietly let Jen set the pace after Renata’s knowing comment. Jen suggested Rosario’s for lunch; while walking there, Jen asked whether Adaeze had been pulling Chris’s students. Chris said Adaeze had pulled Darius for twenty minutes on Wednesday and observed a full class Thursday, calling Adaeze thorough and quiet and saying Adaeze was getting a baseline. Chris remembered their previous booth at Rosario’s.

Lester Obi, Jen’s architect friend of eleven years, was already occupying that booth with a turkey club. Jen introduced Chris, and Lester introduced himself by saying Jen had kept him in business through stress calls for eleven years. Lester established that he came to Rosario’s every Sunday and, after Chris observed that Jen and Lester had a usual spot, called it “eleven years of usual spots.” Lester drew Chris into conversation by mentioning surveyor maps from the 1890s that Lester’s firm had found in a leather sleeve behind a false wall during the Millbrook archive renovation. The maps showed property lines near the old mill that no longer matched the current grid; Chris explained that Millbrook’s ward boundaries had been redrawn after 1912 without deed records being updated for decades. Chris became openly engaged and laughed with Lester, while Jen silently resented Lester for taking over the conversation. Lester eventually announced that he had promised Marcia he would inspect a deck before dark, paid more than his share, invited Chris to contact him about the maps, and left Jen and Chris alone. Chris said Lester was good people and was easy to talk to, and said he genuinely wanted to see the maps. Jen and Chris also referred to a pact concerning Brenda: Jen intended to protect the pact by keeping Lester from meeting Brenda, since Chris warned that Lester would quickly find Brenda’s bike-shop floor plan and involve contractors.

Jen took the remaining iced tea to go, and Chris and Jen left Rosario’s to walk without choosing a destination. Chris asked whether Jen still played music, learning that Jen played six and a half instruments—the keys counting as half—had begun clarinet in fifth grade, acquired ukulele during the pandemic, and had played tin whistle and sometimes flute with a Celtic session group. Chris admitted to having played trumpet badly for three years, until his mother asked him to practice at school. When Chris asked about Jen’s ADD, Jen said Jen had always known in the way one can know for thirty years before it receives a name. Chris connected that to Brenda’s bike-shop floor plan and described four other abandoned notebook projects: a food cart, a used bookstore, and six unpublished episodes of a regional-history podcast. Chris said he tends to finish projects in his head and lose interest before showing them to the world. The podcast, recorded on a sale-bought Blue Yeti microphone in Chris’s spare bedroom, includes a forty-seven-minute third episode about the 1902 mill fire.

When Jen said Jen would listen to the episodes, Chris stopped briefly, surprised that Jen meant it. Jen reminded Chris that Jen plays instruments, bakes, sews, and writes, and would indeed listen to the mill-fire episode. Chris said Chris would have to find the hard drive; both agreed that this was not a no. They continued walking for about forty minutes, making easy observations together, including debating whether a determined fig tree in a September container garden would survive. Near Aldine and Fifth, Jen finished the iced tea and carried the empty cup. At the ECC lot, where their cars were the only ones left, they called it a good Sunday. Chris promised to look for the hard drive, and Jen said Jen would hold Chris to it; Chris answered without alarm, almost relieved. Chris drove away, while Jen headed home expecting Lester, who had left Rosario’s an hour and a half earlier, to have thoughts. The square dance remains two weeks away, Thursday is four days away, and Chris still has six unheard regional-history podcast episodes somewhere on a hard drive.

At Jen’s home, Lester—shoes off in Jen’s armchair, drinking Jen’s tea—says Chris likes Jen, citing how Chris remembered every instrument Jen mentioned and how Chris reacted when Jen promised to listen to the podcast. Lester insists he is only reporting what he saw and warns that the hard drive will not remain lost forever. When Jen calls Chris a friend but describes Chris’s shyness, history tangents, and abandoned dreams, Lester argues that Jen has already decided it is too late rather than risk learning Chris’s answer. Thursday is four days away, and the hard drive remains somewhere in Chris’s spare bedroom. Jen kicks Lester’s shin, then leans against Lester’s shoulder while admitting Lester hooked Chris by mentioning maps. Lester admits to leading with the most interesting part of the map project and says Chris will call about the maps; Lester will tell Chris to bring Jen.

Lester advises Jen to keep Monday small: do not seek Chris out, but if Jen encounters Chris in the hallway, ask whether Chris found the hard drive. If they do not meet, nothing is lost; Tuesday lunch still stands. After Lester leaves, Jen locks the door, prepares Monday’s planner for sixth-period discussion of Their Eyes Were Watching God, chapter three, and adds a note to check in with Marcus about Janie’s voice. Jen thinks ahead to the coming square dance, where Donna will wear yellow and Brenda may attend; if Lester meets Brenda, the pact Jen and Chris made over biscuits will last only minutes. Jen reflects on the six podcast episodes on the hard drive, including a forty-seven-minute episode about a 1902 fire, and decides the world probably does need to hear them. Jen is not ready, but is prepared: Monday is a hallway, Tuesday is lunch, the square dance is coming, and the hard drive is still out there.

Jen crossed out an overloaded old planner list and replaced it with two manageable tasks, Civil War lesson plans and the hard drive/podcast, then went to school on a warm September Monday. Passing open Room 116 without stopping, Jen settled into the classroom and later met Adaeze in the hallway before first bell. Adaeze, who was sitting in on a ninth-grade section, asked to visit Jen’s room and connected immediately to chapter three of Their Eyes Were Watching God, agreeing that Janie’s struggle to want things and to find her own voice was the central question. Adaeze said she might come during or after class; Jen told her not to knock and that she was welcome anytime. Jen greeted rushing Deshawn, then began class with twenty-three students and asked where Janie was. Deshawn said Janie was married but not truly present, waiting for something inside her while Logan talked about his mule; Simone replied that Logan thought the mule was the thing. When Jen asked whether Janie had a voice, Marcus T. argued she did not use it because nobody listened, while Simone distinguished Logan from everybody. Quiet Aaliyah said Janie spoke honestly only to the pear tree, because it could not tell her she was wrong. Jen concluded that Janie had a voice but had not found a person safe enough to use it with, then assigned the next two chapters.

After class, Jen noted Deshawn’s distinction between the mule and presence, Aaliyah’s idea of the pear tree as a safe voice, and a plan to press chapters four and five by Thursday. Across the hall, Room 116 was closed but occupied. Jen crossed over and found Chris at his desk, asking only whether he had searched for the hard drive over the weekend. Chris said he had moved three boxes on Saturday night and knew the drive was somewhere in the spare room, but did not know under which layer. Jen accepted the “not-yet,” left without lingering, and quietly wished Chris a good morning; Chris made a surprised, acknowledging sound.

Back in the classroom, Jen added “not-yet. still in the spare room” beside the two planner tasks, treating it as a fact rather than a deadline. Jen remembered Lester’s advice to do the small thing—ask Chris about the hard drive—and recognized that it had worked. The hard drive held a forty-seven-minute podcast episode about a mill fire. Adaeze might still visit, Tuesday lunch still remained, and the square dance was less than two weeks away: Donna would wear yellow, Brenda might appear, and Lester could not be near Brenda without breaking the biscuit pact almost immediately. For now, Jen sat in the quiet classroom with the planner open and the door left open as Jen liked it.

After Aaliyah compared someone to a pear tree that cannot tell her she was wrong, Jen added a Thursday prompt to the Civil War planner: “Who is your pear tree?” Students will have five quiet minutes and blank index cards, with no names or required sharing; Jen marked “me too” beside it. Adaeze, who had noticed that Aaliyah had been silent in two other classes, praised the answer and asked to sit in on Thursday to see whether Aaliyah speaks again; Jen agreed. Adaeze also invited Jen into an informal monthly reading circle with Adaeze, Mr. Okafor from the science wing, and Patricia from the front office, with one more member still needed. Jen accepted Adaeze’s nomination, Octavia Butler’s Parable of the Sower, and gave Adaeze Jen’s number for a group text. The circle will meet after school on the third Tuesday of the month, in three weeks, in a room at school or the library. Adaeze asked Jen to tell Aaliyah that her pear tree answer was the best thing Adaeze had heard all week.

Jen nearly suggested Chris for the reading circle, recognizing that the impulse was entangled with comparing Jenself to Adaeze and wondering whether Chris might like Adaeze, so Jen left the thought unfinished. Jen packed the planner and paperback, found Room 116 dark and Chris already gone, and drove home. Monday’s brief exchange with Chris about the hard drive—Chris said “not yet,” and Jen simply said good morning—felt like a win; the hard drive remains buried beneath three moved boxes in a spare room that is not Jen’s. Tuesday lunch with Chris remains planned, Thursday’s pear-tree discussion is set, and the square dance is approaching, with Donna expected in yellow and possible complications if Brenda and Lester are near each other. At home, Jen put Parable of the Sower on the kitchen table, considered starting it that night, and settled on the immediate thought of Tuesday.

At B lunch in Room 116, Chris told Jen he had found the hard drive beneath his father’s old road atlases, though he had not yet tested whether its forty-seven-minute podcast episode about the mill fire survived. He agreed that Jen should tell Adaeze he wanted the last book-club spot, despite expecting Adaeze to mention Brenda. When Jen told him the first book was Octavia Butler’s Parable of the Sower, Chris noted they were both going in blind. As lunch ended, Jen told him the club met Thursday and urged him to listen to the hard drive that night and enjoy hearing his own clever younger voice. Jen later found Adaeze near the copy room and gave Chris the spot. Adaeze promised to add him to the group text, warned that the book was non-negotiable, and specified: third Tuesday, three weeks.

On Wednesday evening, Adaeze’s group text included Jen, Mr. Okafor, Patricia from the front office, and Chris’s unnamed number. Chris reported that he had found a library copy of Parable of the Sower but was already on its waiting list; Jen offered to lend him her copy after finishing it, and he agreed. Jen read four pages of the paperback. Thursday morning, Jen gave twenty-three students, including Deshawn and Aaliyah, five quiet minutes to write on index cards in response to “Who is your pear tree?” and let them keep their cards; Aaliyah wrote without stopping and tucked hers into her binder. At B lunch, Chris, looking tired, told Jen the hard-drive file had survived and that he had listened to all forty-seven minutes. He said it was good. The square dance remained less than two weeks away, and Jen’s creased copy of the book sat at home with three pages read.

At B lunch, Jen tells Chris that Adaeze said nothing about Brenda and was only pleased, which Chris accepts as a win after having expected otherwise. Chris keeps returning to Jen’s offer to listen to all eleven episodes of his podcast, acknowledging its weight without deflecting. Jen tells Chris about filming and heavily editing a twenty-two-minute school Dungeons & Dragons episode featuring Spoons Underbough, a halfling rogue who tried to use a bent dessert spoon to pick a vault lock and instead persuaded a guard it was a religious artifact; Chris laughs openly. The bell interrupts them after a shared second of stillness, and Chris leaves still smiling, repeating Spoons Underbough’s name. Jen tells Chris, “Good Thursday,” and means it completely.

Jen teaches through third and fourth periods, checks on Deshawn’s book choice, redirects two students, and finishes next week’s outline during planning after thinking about Chris’s eleven episodes. After school, Jen sees the Civil War planner prompt about a pear tree and remembers Aaliyah writing her response immediately and saving the card. Driving home, Jen considers telling Lester that things are good and that Chris laughed. At home, Jen writes in a journal about the pear-tree question, Aaliyah, and having something that cannot say Jen is wrong. Sunday is three days away; Jen does not know whether Chris will come, but accepts the uncertainty, then closes the journal and reads four more pages of a paperback.

Jen tells Lester about the week: the group text, the book-club spot, seeing Chris tired but good at B lunch, the hard-drive file surviving intact, and Chris genuinely laughing at her story about Spoons Underbough picking a vault lock with a bent dessert spoon. She had told Chris to have a good Thursday and meant it. Lester calls the week “not nothing,” noting Chris now knows what Jen’s real laugh sounds like, and asks about next week. Jen says school will be the same, with the square dance still on the calendar, book club three weeks away, and Monday bringing the hallway, B lunch, and Room 116 next door. Lester urges her to read the borrowed book and eventually lend it to Chris; her hard-drive offer remains open because Chris has not said no or named a time. He warns her not to let “whenever” become “never” by talking herself out of asking, though she need not ask this week. They agree to take one thing at a time, starting with Saturday and the book.

Jen reads Friday night, then spends Saturday on the back porch with tea and the book, quickly passing the halfway point as Lauren Olamina prepares through notebooks and determination for a world not yet broken. Hyperfocus takes over; Jen ignores her phone and further tea, recalling the six instruments lined up in her living room, and finishes the book after dark. Its spine is thoroughly creased and its pages wavy from humidity. Thinking of Chris saying the hard drive was good, Jen decides the book is good too and ready to travel. She tears out a planner page and writes Chris a note: “Lauren says ‘Change is the one constant,’ which feels heavy, but then I look at the last two months, and I’ve actually been really enjoying the changes in my own routine lately. Those changes entirely include you. Glad we know each other. - Jen” She folds it into chapter fourteen, puts the book in her bag, and sets the bag by the door for church at ten. Chris has attended the last three Sundays, but Jen accepts that he may or may not be there; the book, with its note, is ready.

Jen left Lester in her kitchen and drove to ECC for the ten o’clock service, carrying a book with a note folded into chapter fourteen in her bag. Settling into her usual pew, she looked toward the door as she always did, but during the service—on faithfulness in small things—she stopped checking it and felt her tension quiet. Afterward, Renata, carrying her baby and expecting forty minutes of peace before Marcus brought the boys from his mother’s, invited Jen to fellowship hour. Jen texted Lester that Rosario’s had been delayed and asked him to take their table. Over coffee and banana bread in the fellowship hall, Renata directly noted that Jen had looked for someone at church: the broad-shouldered man in a blue shirt who had attended with Jen the week before. Jen admitted she had never told anyone how she felt before and feared ruining things or hearing the answer. When Jen mentioned the note in the book she had meant to lend Chris, Renata urged her to make the next step simply giving Chris the book—not a speech or declaration—and Jen corrected herself from “was going to” to “am going to.”

Jen thanked Renata and walked two blocks to Rosario’s, where Lester, an early-sixties man with broad shoulders, reading glasses on his forehead, and a flannel shirt, had already claimed the window booth and texted that she could take her time. When Jen told him that she would give Chris the book that week and that it contained a note, Lester answered only, “Okay,” without drama. As they waited for their usual Sunday meal, Jen held to the decision: tomorrow was Monday, Room 116 was next door, and Jen would hand Chris the book.

At Rosario’s on Sunday, Jen told Lester that Renata had noticed what Jen felt for Chris and that it came with costs, then said plainly that Jen liked Chris. Lester warmly refused to make it a big thing, telling Jen that saying it aloud mattered and that bold did not have to mean loud; he pointed out that Jen had already written Chris a note and tucked it into chapter fourteen of the book. They ate lunch, and outside Lester hugged Jen, said, “Monday,” and left for his car. At home, Jen texted Chris, “Finished the book. Will bring it to you at school tomorrow.” Chris replied, “Oh good, I was hoping you’d finish it soon. See you tomorrow,” and Jen took “I was hoping” as proof that he had been thinking about the book before the message. The book, with its note still folded into chapter fourteen, remained packed for Monday; Thursday’s square dance was still planned, with Brenda and perhaps Lester expected. At Millbrook High on Monday morning, Jen found Chris in Room 116 wearing a grey pullover, with a thermos beside his laptop. Jen gave him the thoroughly read, slightly wavy book; Chris accepted it with both hands, said he would start it that night, and set it beside his thermos. Jen returned to her own classroom knowing the book—and the hidden note—were now his, and planned to see him at B lunch Tuesday to discuss his podcast, the hard drive, and Thursday’s dance.

At Tuesday’s B lunch, Jen brought Chris oatmeal cookies to Room 116 and found the book still on his desk. Chris had read through chapter six and had gone back to episode one of his podcast on Sunday night, agreeing that the context changed everything. When Jen raised Thursday’s square dance, Chris admitted that he may have mentioned Jen to Brenda, who had questioned him about school; Jen understood Brenda would likely find Jen within minutes of arriving. Chris said Brenda was going to like Jen, and Jen said Jen would like Brenda too. Jen also told Chris that Lester wanted to see the maps and might attend Thursday’s dance. Chris agreed that Jen could give Lester Chris’s number and text both men so they could arrange a time directly, though both anticipated Brenda and Lester introducing themselves and asking questions before the first do-si-do. Jen insisted Chris not let Jen forget the podcast. Chris revealed that he had quietly uploaded episode one the previous week and, deciding that the podcast would provide a prepared subject change from Brenda and Lester, handed Jen his phone to play it.

Jen listened to the beginning of Chris’s podcast until the lunch bell interrupted it. The series concerned local history, primary sources, and the difference between what gets remembered and what happened; Chris read from documents and explained what their writers had paid to put words on paper. Jen praised it as “really good,” especially impressed by Chris’s steady, deliberate recorded voice and the discussion of an 1887 county surveyor’s map, which Jen thought Lester would love. Chris said there were six episodes. Jen promised to hear all of them and noted particular anticipation for the forty-seven-minute episode about the 1902 fire. Leaving Room 116 with the empty cookie container, Jen called Chris “My friend, the podcaster” and gave him an open, admiring smile that left him reaching uncertainly toward his thermos. Back in Jen’s classroom, Jen acknowledged that “friend” was not the whole feeling, but it was the word available for now. Chris still had the book next door, with the note waiting in chapter fourteen; Jen had heard about ten minutes of episode one, intended to listen to all six episodes, and was left preparing for Wednesday and Thursday’s square dance, where Brenda and Lester were expected to meet.

At lunch in Room 116, Jen and Chris acknowledged that Thursday night’s square dance was close: Brenda had texted that she was bringing a book-club friend, supposedly not as a setup, while Jen said Lester was also coming, and Chris agreed they would both be “managed.” Jen told Chris she had finished his historical work through the surveyor who refused to record a contested creek boundary, praised it, and urged him to post the twelve-minute second episode of his podcast, Spoke Volumes, about a deed transfer. Chris said episode three contained a letter from a millinery-shop owner—whose shop had stood where the hardware store’s parking lot now lay—to her sister about a fire inspection she believed targeted; he considered it the series’ best piece. When Jen remembered the podcast’s name and defended it against Chris’s father’s dislike of the pun, Chris admitted he had expected no one to listen after posting it, though Brenda still had the floor plans in a box and threatened to frame them. Jen assured him that something had happened. They left the book on Chris’s desk with a receipt marking chapter seven and a note still waiting in chapter fourteen, both looking forward to that night.

After school, Jen dressed in a burgundy top, dark jeans, flats, and brought a water bottle and purse, leaving the planner at home; a month earlier, Jen had entered the community center alone and discovered that Chris, her neighboring teacher for six years, had only truly become known to her through square dancing. At the community center, where Donna was arranging chairs and the fiddle warmed up, Brenda found Jen first, greeted her warmly, and laughed that she had urged Chris for three years to release episode two. Brenda introduced Cecile, an early-forties friend with reading glasses on a beaded chain who had never square danced. Jen welcomed Cecile, advised her to expect little from her own footwork and much from Donna’s instruction, and confirmed that Chris and Jen had thoroughly embarrassed themselves at their first dance before Donna kindly corrected them. Chris arrived in a dark blue button-down, met Brenda, Cecile, and Jen, and apologized to Cecile for Brenda bringing her; Cecile said she was not sorry to be there. Donna assigned all four to a square. As Chris walked beside Jen toward the floor, he quietly asked whether Jen was good, and Jen said yes. Lester had not yet arrived; the chapter-fourteen note remained unread, and Jen still had five podcast episodes to hear, but Jen and Chris took their places with Brenda and Cecile as Donna began calling the dance.

At a square dance led by Donna’s fiddle-backed calls, Jen settles into the familiar rhythm with Chris, whose hand rests warmly but uncertainly at Jen’s back. Across the floor, Chris’s sister Brenda guides Cecile, who wears reading glasses and laughs off missed steps; Chris tells Jen that Brenda chose Cecile “very carefully.” During a water break, Chris quietly praises Jen’s dancing, and Jen admits to practicing from a Spotify square-dance playlist in Jen’s kitchen on Friday nights. Chris answers with his own embarrassing ritual: recording a podcast in his car in a school lot for six Saturdays because the acoustics were better than his apartment. Brenda notices the pair while showing Cecile footwork, then Donna calls everyone back for a Virginia reel.

Jen and Chris take opposite places in the facing lines, with Brenda having efficiently placed Cecile two couples away. Chris counts under his breath as he and Jen go down the center; Brenda later meets Jen’s eyes with an overly knowing look. Jen mouths “Brenda” to Chris, and he suppresses a grin and gives the resigned shrug of someone long accustomed to his sister’s schemes. The reel carries Jen past Cecile, who is focused on her feet, and Brenda, who takes Jen’s hand firmly without speaking; the dance ends to breathless, genuine applause. At the floor’s edge, Jen drinks half a water bottle while Chris opens his thermos, and they share a comfortable silence as Brenda leads Cecile to the refreshments. Chris says Brenda will later claim the evening went as expected, but when Jen asks whether it did, he says it went “Better.” With more dancing ahead and a book waiting somewhere for Chris with a note folded into chapter fourteen, Jen and Chris cap their drinks and agree they are ready to continue.

At the community-center dance, Chris realizes Jen had been as “busy” as he was trying to pair Brenda with Lester, and the two share a relieved, careful acknowledgment while Lester, now making Cecile laugh, knowingly raises his cup. As Donna calls a Texas Star, Jen admits Lester’s easy charm is a skill Jen has never possessed; Chris says he also lacks that “gear,” overthinking every word and distance. Facing each other in Donna’s set, Jen and Chris dance without hesitation, their hands finding the steps automatically; Chris’s hand is steadier at Jen’s back, and he smiles before deciding to. Afterward, Jen tells Brenda that Cecile improved because Brenda was a good teacher. Brenda says Cecile had nearly gone home, but Brenda reminded Cecile she had already driven there. Brenda also reveals that Chris has mentioned Jen, the book Jen gave him, and the podcast—especially that Jen listened to its episodes—and says Chris does not hear enough praise. Jen calls the millinery letter especially good.

Brenda tells Jen to return Thursday and says Jen is better than Jen thinks, then Jen crosses to Chris. Jen says she is heading out, learns Chris is on chapter seven of the book, and tells him there is no rush because the book is good on a second reading too. Jen confirms plans to see Chris tomorrow, with Chris at 116 and Jen at 114, then praises the second podcast episode’s deed transfer and the surveyor’s refusal to record it, saying such details make people feel less alone in history. Chris quietly receives the praise. Lester signals that Jen can leave, and Jen says goodnight to Chris, collects her water bottle, and leaves with Lester. In the parking lot, Lester calls Brenda “good people” and reports that Cecile asked Donna for the schedule and will attend the next dance. Jen sees Chris still helping Donna put away chairs before driving off; chapter fourteen of the book remains waiting.

On Friday after school, Jen found Chris locking Room 116 with his thermos under his arm. After easy talk about a shared student, a broken media-room projector, and the vending machine, Chris asked whether Jen was going to Sunday’s service. Jen awkwardly invited him to sit with her; Chris plainly agreed, and they set ten o’clock as their plan before Adaeze passed them in the hall. Jen spent Friday night square-dancing alone in her kitchen and tried not to dwell on the invitation, Chris’s progress through the book, or the folded note waiting in chapter fourteen. On Saturday she journaled, did laundry, and called her mother without mentioning any of it. Sunday morning she put on a burgundy top, took her Bible and purse, and went to church. Chris was already in the sanctuary’s third pew from the center aisle on the left, where he silently cleared the seat beside him; Renata, seated two rows ahead with her baby and toddler, noticed. During the service, Chris said the church stayed with people, sang the opening hymn carefully as he learned it, and sat with his arm along the pew back. Renata’s toddler fell asleep, and Chris’s bulletin ended up on the seat between him and Jen. Afterward, Chris said he was on chapter nine of the book; Jen told him it was worth finishing without rushing, and they confirmed book club was Tuesday.

Outside the church, Jen invited Chris to Rosario’s for food. He accepted, and they walked two blocks to the open window booth, where the server brought them coffee. They discussed the patience sermon, their shared student’s arguments about run-on sentences and primary sources, a documentary Chris had watched Friday, and a book Jen had read in August. The meal was easy rather than fraught. When they finished, Chris took the check and told Jen, “You can get it next time,” treating another meeting as certain. They walked back to the church parking lot, their cars three spaces apart, and again said, “Tuesday.” Jen drove home with the windows down in the cool October air, satisfied with the day; Chris still had the book and remained five chapters from the folded note, with Tuesday two days away.

On a gray October Monday at Millbrook High, Jen prepared Room 114 before noticing Chris already working in open Room 116. Adaeze, returning from the copy room, reminded Jen that book club was the next day and said Chris had mentioned it Friday. Chris told Jen he had reached chapter eleven of the book after reading the night before and before first bell; though Jen said he need not finish for book club, he said he preferred to arrive prepared and resolved to get through the remaining three chapters. Jen knew chapter fourteen held a folded note in Jen's handwriting. After a long teaching day, Jen ate lunch alone and remained in Room 114 after the buses left, increasingly preoccupied with whether Chris had reached the note.

An unsaved number then texted: Marcus from ECC, Renata's husband, had been given Jen's number by Renata and was asking about a book-club co-facilitator. Jen redirected Marcus to Adaeze but also said the club began after school Tuesday and invited him to attend; Marcus said he would ask Adaeze and might come because he had been meaning to read more. Jen warned Adaeze about the accidental invitation, identifying Marcus as a possible PE teacher, and Adaeze replied that the more the merrier, that she had enough copies, and that Marcus would be fine. Jen left school with book club set for Tuesday, Adaeze leading, Marcus a possible attendee, and Chris already gone from Room 116; the note remained in chapter fourteen, waiting for Chris if he read that far. Jen drove home and arrived at Jen's driveway with the porch light on.