One Last Thing ✅

eleven things

I duck into the classroom. Mrs. Edwards is nowhere to be seen. I sharpen my pencil and linger by her desk. A picture on the bookshelf catches my eye. In it, a girl of about six grins at the camera, one of her front teeth missing. But the girl's most distinguishing characteristic is her patchy hair. A few tufts of blonde stick out here and there, but other than that, she's bald.

"Ready, Liliana?" Mrs. Edwards says from behind me, making me jump.

"Ready as I'll ever be," I tell her.

She hands me a piece of paper, and I sit down and stare at it. It's a completely new test with all new questions. I wonder briefly whether she keeps an alternate version in case of situations like this or if she went to all this trouble just for me. That possibility makes me feel even guiltier than I already do. Still, I race through it, amazed at how many of the questions I know the answers to. When I get to the end, I'm feeling pretty good.

I take the test to Mrs. Edwards's desk just as her cell phone rings. She picks it up and turns away from me, and I stand there awkwardly, not sure what to do.

"How was it?" Mrs. Edwards says into the phone, head ducked down.

Even though she's not facing me, I can tell from the way her shoulders shake that she's crying.

 "Are you sure?" she asks. Another few moments go by. "Okay," she whispers into the phone, and then she hangs up and just sits there for a few minutes, weeping silently.

I'm torn. I feel like I should just leave her alone, like I'm seeing something that I'm not meant to see. But it feels weird to just put the test on her desk and walk out without saying anything. I mean, she's crying.

Finally she notices me.

"Oh, Liliana. I forgot you were here." She grabs a few tissues from the box on the corner of her desk and blows her nose into them. The rims of her eyes are blood red. "I'm sorry. Just put your test here." She points. "I'll check it when I get a chance."

I place the test gently in front of her and move to leave, but then I hesitate. "Is everything okay, Mrs. Edwards?"

She lifts her eyes to meet mine, and I can see that everything is not okay. Her forehead creases, and it looks like she's making a decision about something. Is it okay for her to open up to a student about what she's going through? It seems that the professional side of her wins because almost as soon as that crack in her exterior appears, it's gone, plastered over by the Mrs. Edwards she is in front of our class every day. Pleasant, kind, but restrained.

"I'm fine, Liliana. Thanks for asking. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to prepare for a meeting with the newspaper staff." She twists in her chair and starts gathering papers and stuffing them into a canvas bag.

"Sure," I reply, turning to go.

But then, again, I pause.

"Mrs. Edwards?" I ask.

"Yes, Liliana?" She's looking at me, but she's a thousand miles away.

"My grandfather died of cancer five years ago. I... If you ever want to talk to someone..." My words dangle there between us, and it's almost as though we're both staring at them, surprised at their existence.

Mrs. Edwards swallows. "Thank you, Liliana. That's very..." Her eyes start to well up again, and I decide that's my cue to go.

"I'll see you tomorrow," I say.

She nods.

And I go.