“Very funny,” she deadpans.
“Or is it punny?”
Vannah crosses her arms and flops back against the booth. “Not sure it matters.”
“Out with it then,” I prod.
After another exaggerated huff and roll of her eyes, she finally blabs. “I had a bad date. Horrific, really. I’d rather not discuss it further.”
I exchange a wince with Clea and Presley. Vannah has a tendency to find guys with the dirtiest track records. Kudos to her romantic heart for giving them a chance at redemption, regardless of their sordid reputation.
“The next one will be better,” Clea assures.
“Absolutely,” Presley adds.
Vannah grumbles beneath her breath, but she can’t stop a grin from spreading. “Maybe. I’m keeping my fingers and toes crossed. Tasting some fresh meat after years of the slim pickings in this wading pool will be much appreciated.”
I smile at my friends as they get lost reminiscing about hot frat boys and house parties. Upbeat chatter buzzes in the background. People hum with glee as they gather, their bouts of laughter blending into the mix. Everyone is getting lost in celebration, or should be. A catchy song blares from the speakers, encouraging patrons to get off their seats and dance. I’ve never been shy about shaking what my mama gave me, but this isn’t the time for bumping and grinding.
Resistance be damned, these familiar comforts swaddle me tighter than a warm embrace. I decide to let the uncertainty float away—for tonight, at least. Sullying our evening with my mounting concern isn’t fair to anyone. I probably have nothing to worry about. And I’ll keep telling myself that until proven otherwise.
A tumbleweed rolls across the narrow road, somersaulting toward an overgrown ditch. The sight would be comical if it weren’t a conveniently placed prop in my dose of harsh reality. I find myself gaping at the spindly object as if it’s a mythical creature. It turns out those things actually exist. Shame on me for assuming otherwise. I figured Western movies used them as ironic ornaments to set the stage. Although, to be fair, each passing mile suggests that’s precisely where my target destination is located.
The view from my windshield shows a very appropriate backdrop for such a film. My sweaty palms slip along the steering wheel as the weight of what lies ahead sinks in. I pull over on the dusty highway to stare for a moment. Sprawling acres of lush greenery and fields of wheat welcome my scrutiny. The breeze whipping through my open window offers a slight reprieve from the rising heat. I inhale deeply, granting myself a lungful of fresh-cut hay and sweet pollen. In the distance, a herd of cows chomp on grass. Roaming free while basking in the sunshine doesn’t sound half-bad. I can almost picture Wayne and Trigger loping across the plains, guns blazing as the criminals try to escape with their bags of loot.
Oh, man. The humidity must be getting to me, but that’s not all. A glance in each direction is a stark reminder of what the next year holds for me. This is so far out of my norm that I’m becoming a jumble of tension. I rest a hand on my forehead and suck in a calming breath. Driving across remote farmland in Iowa is the complete opposite of what I’d originally signed up for. I should be settling into a cramped apartment in downtown Minneapolis. How did this happen?
Repeating that question until I’m hoarse won’t change the outcome. My snort is half-hearted at best. The entire fiasco is ridiculous. Spoiler alert, the cushy job at Bellmoore Academy—a private school in the city—didn’t pan out. The deal was fishy to begin with. Their continued lack of communication should’ve clued me in. I chose to be forgiving and allow blind faith to guide me.
When available positions are first posted in the spring, established teachers snatch them up before new graduates have their resumes finalized. I can’t blame the districts for choosing those with more experience, but I dared to be optimistic. That confidence paid off. Landing one of those coveted spots had me peering at the horizon behind rose-tinted lenses. My career path was set in motion, and I was zooming full speed ahead.
Most levelheaded professionals would’ve jumped ship when Bellmoore didn’t send a contract or any formal terms for employment. I’ll admit to being wrapped up in the whimsical glamor of their offer. Red flags were staked and waving, but the potential possibilities outshined the pitfalls. As the weeks trickled on without word from them, suspicion replaced my naïve acceptance. My growing doubts were warranted.
Thankfully, the hope I clung to didn’t stubbornly stick until August or later. I managed to pull my head out of the clouds by late May while other opportunities were still in full bloom. Not that I had a shot at most of them. As if sensing my overdue rejection, Bellmoore sent an email that week confirming what I already guessed. They had to make unforeseen budget cuts and could no longer afford to expand their staff. As if that update couldn’t be passed along earlier.
A chime from my cell saves me from traveling further along my downward spiral. I glance at the screen, and a knot loosens in my stomach. With a quick swipe, I answer the call.
“How did you know?”
Vannah laughs in my ear. “We’ve been attached at the hip since orientation freshman year. It’s basically a sixth sense at this point.”
“Those are cherished moments.” A drawn-out sigh escapes me.
“That noise doesn’t sound good. What’s wrong?”
“Other than moving to an entirely different state? Being separated from all my friends? Starting over completely from scratch?” I’m not prideful enough to hide the slight tremor in my voice. A lump forms in my throat, and I struggle to swallow.
“Do you have some cheese to go with that whine? An aged gouda should pair nicely.”
“You’re such an elegant snob,” I mumble.
“And that’s why you love me,” she chirps.
“Thanks for the emotional support. Is that why you rang?”
“Just wanted to check on your progress. Have you arrived in Boondocks Valley yet?”
“Bampton,” I correct.
“Pardon me.” Vannah laughs. “Is there a difference?”
“Now you’re really being a snob.” I glare across the flat valley to my left. “What’s stopping me from ending this riveting conversation?”
She huffs down the line. “Oh, I’m just teasing. I have to mask my pain somehow. It’s my only defense against your absence. In all honesty, living in the country would be a great escape for me.”
“You could always work remotely,” I suggest.
“In real estate? I’m not ballsy enough to take on that challenge. Maybe after my first promotion or my company sets up an office down there, whichever comes first.”
“Don’t get too attached to the idea. My situation is temporary.”
That reminder plays on a constant loop in my mind. Don’t get me wrong—I’m grateful for being hired. By a reliable district willing to take a gamble on an inexperienced teacher, no less. Sure, I could’ve taken a chance and held out for something closer to home. But I’d stretched my luck far enough. Getting a full-time schedule with my own classroom is a blessing. I’ll never take this good fortune for granted, but that doesn’t mean I plan to stick around longer than financially necessary. No offense to them, of course. Being this far from home—my family and friends—isn’t meant for me.