And before I know it, it’s the first day of school. I’ve got my classroom all decorated, I’ve got my Hello, I’m Miss Parks name tag on, my name on the chalkboard, my lesson plans for the first week are fully-detailed, my teaching supplies are organized, my classroom rules are ready to be explained in a clear and fun manner. I haven’t said a real swear-word out loud in two weeks, and I haven’t cried in five days.

Beside every thought I have about vowels and fractions and the pros and cons of hand sanitizer are two thoughts about Vince, but they’re just there keeping me company, they don’t send me into a tizzy. See, I use words like “tizzy”. I’m officially a dorky first grade teacher again.

I’ve seen Russell in passing twice. He seems okay, although if he weren’t okay he wouldn’t show it. We had a quick conversation about telling our co-workers that we’re no longer a couple, but only if they ask, we aren’t going to make a big announcement or anything. He didn’t say anything about whether he’s still with Sadie or not, and he didn’t ask me about Vince. I really think that on that front, for Russell and I, we’ll be fine.

I still haven’t heard from Vince, or reached out to him. I plan to, next weekend, once the first week of school is behind me.

I’m standing at the door to my classroom, waiting to greet my new students, when I look across the hall and see Tyler’s mom pass by the entrance from the big yard, looking around. My kids haven’t started to arrive yet, so I hurry over to the doors.

“Eve?”

“Oh thank God.” She approaches. “I was hoping I’d catch you.”

“Hi. Everything okay?”

“Oh yes, just dropped Tyler off.”

“Oh good, whose class is he in?”

“Mrs. Yee.”

“Oh that’s great, she’s wonderful.”

“Yeah, she seems cool.”

We stare at each other for a second.

“So you all had a good summer?” I ask.

“Yes, very good…You?”

I smile, and feel my eyes getting watery, clammit. “It was the best.” I place a fingertip in the corners of each eye to stop the flow. “How is he?”

She lets out a long exhale through her mouth and puts her hands on her hips. “He’s…okay? Kind of. I mean, it was rough for a few days there, I was really worried about him. He wasn’t sleeping and I guess he was drinking a couple nights in a row, but…he’s been seeing his therapist three times a week, and I think…I mean. It’s not my place, but…”

“Yeah, I know.”

“But I think you guys should talk.”

“Oh.”

“Like, soon.”

“Oh. Okay.”

A horde of parents and five and six year-olds suddenly crowds in towards us, and Eve and I get separated. I hear her say “bye” and I have so many questions, but no time to think about anything other than getting backpacks into cubby holes and kids into their desks.

By 3:20, when my classroom is miraculously emptied and quiet, I start to tidy up and reorganize and pack up my things, and acknowledge the butterflies in my stomach and the re-emerging tingle in my lady parts in anticipation of talking to Vince, like soon.

There are no messages from him on my phone.

I reply to Marnie’s text: Staff room before home? Afdsoiui

With: Heading home! Talk later.

When I’m three blocks towards home, composing a speech in my head, I hear a motorcycle engine approaching behind me and stop in my tracks.

Un, deux, trois, ohhh merde, please be him.

The man on the motorcycle pauses alongside me and pulls off his helmet with his strong, slightly rough, very capable hands. Seeing his beautiful face again takes my breath away.

“Hello, Miss Parks.”

I have to clear my throat. “Hi.”

His eyes are the color of a summer lawn after a long day of welcome rains. “Sorry I don’t have more of a grand gesture prepared,” he grins. “I’ve been too busy going to therapy and working towards becoming a partner at my Dad’s brokerage, so I’m exhausted. But I’m doing it for you.”

“I feel like I’ve been waiting my whole life to hear someone say that.”

“You want a ride home?”

I nod my head. “Yes. Yes I do.”

“Hop on.”

I put on the extra helmet, climb onto the seat behind him, hiking up my shin-length cotton skirt and wrap my arms around his waist, pressing my cheek against his back. He smells like a warm musky forest that I want to run through naked and get lost in with him.

When he parks the bike in front of my building, he stays on after I climb off. He removes his helmet, runs his fingers through his hair and says, “I didn’t call you because I figured you needed to get ready for school…”

“Yeah, I didn’t call you because I was getting ready for school, and…I didn’t know if you wanted to hear from me or not.”

He grins. “Can I come up?”

“Yes.”

He nods once. There’s a clarity in his gaze that I haven’t seen before. I’ve always felt like he could see right through me, but now I feel like I can see into him too. He locks both wheels of his bike and follows me upstairs. We don’t speak or touch or look at each other, but I feel the electricity of him on my skin all over.

As soon as we’re through the door to my apartment, I drop my bag, he drops his motorcycle helmets and messenger bag and my back is pressed up against the wall, his lips on mine, my hands all over him, and I finally feel like I’m home.

“I missed you so much,” he says, “I love you so fucking much, I’m sorry I was such a dick that day.”

“Vince, I’m more in love with you now than ever.” He kisses my neck as he unbuttons my blouse, and all these random words and sounds pour out of my mouth, until I’m finally able to form a sentence: “I realized I’m more me when I’m with you than when I’m by myself or with anyone else. I’m so sorry I had to hurt you to figure that out.”

“You don’t have to apologize to me.”

“No, I do. I have to say this—wait. Wait.” I hold him away from me so I can get it out before my brain drowns in a bath of hormones and relief. “I keep thinking it’s like I was hiding this hole in my heart, and you came along and revealed it to me, and then you patched it up. And then I broke yours. I’ll never forgive myself for that…” I brace myself and wait for him to laugh at me for saying anything so corny out loud.

Instead, he says: “I would rather let you break my heart every day of my life than live without you.”

I cover my mouth. “Oh my God. Vince. We’re so cheesy.”

“I think we should stop talking now.”

I smile. “I have a surprise for you.” I slowly push my skirt down from my waist.

“I like it so far,” he smirks.

“You’re going to have to be gentle with me,” I say, as I push the skirt down a couple more inches to reveal the tattoo I got when I was in Indiana. It’s healing nicely. I think Joni Mitchell would be proud to know that her lyrics have a permanent place on my lower abdomen.

I watch his eyes light up as he reads:

Oh I could drink a case of you darling 

And I would still be on my feet 

I would still be on my feet

“For me?”

“For you, darlin’.”

He pushes my skirt down so that it falls to the floor, scoops me up in his arms and carries me to my bed, placing me down ever so gently. He kisses all around the tattoo, and keeps staring at it when he says, “You got any big plans for the Fall, or…the rest of your life?”

“Yeah,” I say, reaching for him. “I know a guy.”