Page 110 of Robbin’ the Rich

“Don’t do that. We all thought he was a good guy. He fooled all of us,” Mel said.

“And, maybe he is a good guy,” Eleanor said quietly.

Mel turned on her with a glare, and she put her hands up.

“Clearly what he did was fucked up. And you don’t have to forgive him… I’m just saying that sometimes family structures are fucked up. Maybe he really was afraid to tell you.”

I nodded. “Yeah… I get that. And I do believe that he wanted to tell me… but he didn’t.”

“Honey, it’s okay to be sad… or mad… or however you’re feeling. Sometimes you just have to get through it to see what you want to do clearly,” Belle said before giving her hand a squeeze.

A scream from the TV pierced the silence as a zombie attacked someone. I’d been stuck in this loop for days and was ready for a reprieve and a night with my girls. I downed my glass of wine and handed it to Belle who just took it without a word. A few minutes later it was back in my hand full.

And for the rest of the night, we ate the food my mom brought, talked about derby, watched zombies kill people, and tried to ignore my heart break. It was exactly what I needed.

Nothing was fixed yet, but I was feeling better. And for now, that was enough.

24

MICAH

Why do all fifth graders get recorders for the Christmas program? Literally, why? I wonder this every year, but this year the constant squeaking is making me want to peel my skin off as I try to tune my guitar for the Christmas concert.

It’s been two weeks since I’ve talked to Robin. I am trying to move on and stay away like she said, but it’s impossible. One minute you have the woman of your dreams, and you have to pinch yourself, the next she leaves you in a parking lot.

I couldn’t even blame her. I would have done the same thing. Part of what I love so much about her is her strength, so of course she wouldn’t put up with what I did.

Why was I such a coward?

“Mr. Nottingham!” I heard a voice yell.

I look up and see one of my students calling me from a few seats away.

“I’ve been trying to get your attention. Do you know where we’re supposed to go sit?”

“Oh yeah, sorry. Go find your class in the gym. They will bring you into the auditorium when they’re ready.”

I set down my guitar and took a swig from my water bottle. I really needed to get it together. The auditorium would start filling up with parents who want to chat, and I needed to act like a normal person. That in itself seemed like a monumental task right now. It was like Robin stole my heart and my ability to focus and I’ve just been lost in the deep space of sadness.

An old student waved and made their way over to me. It was time to compartmentalize this shit and be the professional I was. I would put on this Santa hat, straighten my periodic table tie and kick this Christmas concert's ass… or something like that.

After a couple hours of off-key Christmas songs and schmoozing over sugar cookies, I was ready to go. Only I saw one family that had lingered at the rest cleared out. Mine. There under the basketball hoop stood my mother and father talking to a few of the other teachers.

Anger flared at the sight.

I made my way over to them. “Excuse me, Denise. Can I steal my parents for a moment?”

“Of course, it was lovely to chat,” Denise said, shaking my father’s hand like she was a local celebrity.

“We’ll see you Sunday,” he said with a small nod.

“Well, that was rude,” said my mother as they trailed behind me.

Once out in the hallway, I turned, “What are you guys doing here?”

“We always come to your school concerts, sweetheart,” my mother said in a sickeningly sweet voice.

“No. You don’t.”