“What about you? Are you leaving after this weekend?” she asked me.
That was a loaded question. One I had hoped would be easier to answer. “I don’t know yet,” I replied.
She grinned at me, then laughed softly. “How is it we are college graduates and this confused about our current situations? Shouldn’t we be settled down in jobs and know what we want by now?” she asked.
I nodded. “Yeah, you’d think so,” I replied, not wanting to admit that I had two job offers and it was me standing in the way of that settling down. My inability to decide.
“I never expected to come back here, you know? I thought once I got out that I wouldn’t want to come back except to visit. But now that I’m here it feels like the most stability and comfort I’ve had in a while,” she said as she stared up at me, her eyes full of so many emotions. Several I understood.
“I think there is a country song about that,” I teased.
That got another laugh from her. “Probably several,” she replied, then glanced back at the store behind her. “I don’t want to work here. That’s not it. I just feel less lost being near my family, being in Lawton. I think I’ve been lost for a while now, and I didn’t even realize it.”
When I had walked across the road to talk to Ezmita, this conversation was not one I had expected; however, I wasn’t against it. Perhaps having it would help both of us.
“Lawton will always be your home. Your family is here. It makes sense for things to feel right here,” I told her.
She gazed up at me silently for a few moments. “What about you? Is it your home?” We both knew what she was asking with the unspoken words. My home life here hadn’t been like hers. The only warm memories I had were made by a woman who was buried six feet under. My mom had given me what she could until she couldn’t any longer. Even those brief moments of happiness were jaded now with the truth of what she had endured by my father’s cruelty.
“I don’t know,” I finally replied. Because there were times this was home. My friends were here, my childhood was here in this town, but was it enough to make this home?
She nodded as if understanding.
“I hope you find your home one day, Asa Griffith,” she said softly, then smiled up at me so sweetly, I felt it in my chest. Damn. I wish she didn’t have that ability still. “I need to get inside before Momma comes out here looking for me,” she said. “Good night.”
I didn’t want this to end. For five years, she had been the one thing that stayed on my mind. The one girl I couldn’t forget. Seeing her again was not helping me. “Good night, Ezmita,” I replied, and I stood there and watched her until she was safely inside before heading back to the hotel.
CHAPTER SIX
EZMITA
Going to sleep thinking about your first love when you’re twenty-three and waking up doing the same thing is rather pathetic. Perhaps it is normal, though. All part of coming home and facing the past. Getting the closure and living the new life you have made for yourself. I was going to tell myself that anyway.
Waking up in the same bedroom as my sister was nice for a visit, but this wasn’t permanent. I couldn’t move back in with my parents. They would always meddle in my life. I was used to my privacy now, and I needed that. I looked down at my phone and read over the e-mail from the principal at Lawton High School one more time.
When I had sent in my application I hadn’t truly thought I would get a response so quickly. I had figured I had time to think about moving back here or putting in my application at other places. It had been my sophomore year in college that I decided I wanted to be a teacher. It had taken me several more months to decide I wanted to teach history and I wanted to teach high school.
My parents had surprised me by being behind this decision and then went on to tell me what good benefits and retirement being a teacher had. None of which had been why I had decided to become a teacher. It all came down to: I was good at it. I had been teaching my younger siblings my entire life. It was second nature to me. I knew I could do it and I could do it well. I also enjoyed history. Learning about why we are who we are today and how we got here.
Until six months ago, I had planned on applying at high schools near and in Nashville, but things had begun to change with Malecon and me even before it was over. My thoughts had begun to move toward whether I would want to stay in Nashville after graduation if Malecon and I ended things. Did I truly want to stay there if we didn’t?
Now here I was back in Lawton with my degree and teaching certificate, and an interview four days after applying for the position. I hadn’t even told my parents yet. I had told no one. They would be thrilled. They would assume Iwould be living under their roof. I would have to explain that I had money saved up and would be renting a place of my own.
My parents weren’t going to understand that at all. Not when their house was right here in town. I wanted to put that argument off for as long as possible. It could be pointless. I might not even get this job. Just because I had a degree didn’t mean a high school principal was going to hire someone who had never attended a public school herself. Having been homeschooled might present an issue for me. I wasn’t sure yet just how much of one it would be.
I’d had four years of college experience after having missed the college admissions deadline my first year after graduating. I had done some online classes until the following January, when I finally got to move away. I hoped that counted for something. Momma was already at the store, and the smell of her cinnamon rolls filled the house, meaning she must have had to bake some in the house kitchen as well. I listened for any sign of life before making my way downstairs. If one of my family members saw me dressed in this straight navy skirt that hit right below the knees, white blouse, navy heels, and pearls, then they would know something was up.
The house was silent. Stopping in the kitchen, I found a plate of cinnamon rolls left out, and I knew they were forme and whoever else came along. I grabbed one and poured a cup of coffee in a go cup, then hurried to the door to get out of the house before I was caught. If they saw me after the interview, it would be fine. Then I would be done with it and I could answer the million questions they were going to hammer me with.
I glanced back in the rearview mirror at the store as I pulled onto the street, knowing my momma had to see me leaving and wondering if she saw me walk out to the car. There was a good chance she had. It was hard to slip anything by the woman. I shoved all thoughts of my family aside and took a deep breath.
I was a grown woman. I had my first real interview for my first job in my career choice. This past semester had been my last step to being certified. I had successfully finished my student teaching at a 5A high school in Nashville. This was it. I was a big girl now.
My pep talk continued the rest of the five minutes it took for me to drive to Lawton High School. It wasn’t nearly as large as the high school I had done my student teaching at, and I loved that about it. When a school was too big it was almost as if it were a university, and there was no way to know everyone. You met strangers daily, and many you never crossed paths with again. Here it would be different.
I parked my car and looked up at the brick building I had once wanted more than anything to attend. Simply so I could know Asa Griffith. Rolling my eyes at the shallowness of my youth, I reached over and picked up my purse from the passenger’s seat along with some sample projects I had been given an opportunity to try during my student teaching.
Not everyone gets as lucky as I had when placed with a teacher for their student teaching. Jane Harmond had been teaching history for over thirty years. She loved her job, and she loved trying new things. Anything to get the kids attention away from their “gadgets,” as she would say, and focused on their learning. Jane had become my mentor and friend. Leaving her had been harder than leaving Malecon, and that said way more than I wanted to admit.