Chapter 5
“...so he tries to tell me it’ll only be a few minutes, clearly not catching my hint,” you gripe. “Then, he grabbed my hand! The audacity! My father was completely right, that man just comes in and takes whatever he wants, and won’t listen when anyone tells him no.”
Isabel, your dearest friend and fellow teacher, sighs, and slowly sits down at her desk. She’s heavily pregnant, and standing for long periods has gotten exhausting for her. The last bell has rung, and all of the students are gone for the day, which means you're free to gossip at long last.
“Andrew never liked Bill. They grew up together, and apparently, Bill has always been somewhat of a bully,” she says. Andrew, Isabel’s husband, works at the general store with his father and is likely the only decent man near your age in town. Unfortunately for you, Andrew and Isabel have always been sweethearts, since you were all schoolchildren.
“Besides, he’s always cutting me off, like I couldn’t possibly have anything to say that’s worth hearing.” You’re pacing back and forth in front of the blackboard, waving your arms for emphasis. “I swear, this town can be so backwards. Anyway,” you sigh, looking at Isabel. “How are you feeling?”
“Well, I’m still having morning sickness, unfortunately. I can hardly keep anything down. But, it’ll all be worth it soon,” she says with a grin. Isabel has always wanted to be a mother, and even though you can’t relate, you’re excited for her and Andrew, and you’re even more excited to meet her baby.
“I’m sorry to hear that, Isabel. I wish I could help.”
“You’re already helping plenty by assisting me with my lesson plans,” chuckles Isabel. “I wouldn’t be able to do this without you and Andrew. Andrew has really been so sweet throughout this whole thing.”
“Is he still hoping the baby will be a boy?”
“I think so,” laughs Isabel, “he’s hoping to name the baby after his father. Of course, he won’t come out and tell me he’s hoping for a boy. When I ask, he says he’ll be happy no matter what.”
“I’m still hoping for a girl,” you confess. Isabel smiles.
“Me too.” You slowly begin to erase the blackboard, lost in thought. While you’ve told Isabel all about your encounter with Bill, you haven’t told her anything about Octavius. You’re afraid of what she might say. Isabel is a wonderful friend, but she’s also very practical. If you were to tell her about Octavius, she’d likely have a lot of concerns, most of which would be valid.
“Are you ok? You seem a little distant today,” asks Isabel with concern. Ugh, damn her. She knows you better than you know yourself sometimes.
“Do you ever think of running away?” you ask.
“What do you mean, running away?” laughs Isabel. “Like, skipping town? Becoming an outlaw?” You shrug noncommittally, and she sighs. “I have. I think everyone does.”
“What stops you from doing it?”
“Well, I have responsibilities,” she says after a long moment of thought. “To my parents, to Andrew, to the school, to our baby…”
“What if you’re tired of responsibility? What if you never asked for it?”
“Well, personally, I did ask for it. I wanted the responsibility. I’m happy to have it. But, if you’re speaking about yourself, well, I suppose I don’t know.”
“I’m sorry, Isabel,” you sigh. “I don’t mean to complain so much.” Isabel smiles at you warmly, and slowly, awkwardly, stumbles to her feet. “You’re so much more mature than me,” you chuckle. Isabel takes a step towards you, taking your hand in hers and giving it a reassuring squeeze.
“True maturity,” she says sagely, “is knowing what you want from life.”