History

I glanced at my phone again, wondering if this meeting would go an hour past its scheduled end, or only half an hour. An hour was looking more likely. An hour at least.

Mr. Davidson was talking about the new district policies, still. His voice had a sort of nasal drone that I'd successfully tuned out about twenty minutes earlier. Mrs. Collins still had to go over assigments for the first day of school. The library was hot, and the hard plastic chairs were becoming extremely uncomfortable.

I ran my hands through my hair. I daydreamed about the hike I was planning for tomorrow, the last hike of summer vacation. By the time Mrs. Collins was wrapping up, I was itching to leave. But before this torture could end, Mrs. Haynes decided she needed to introduce the new teachers. Thankfully there were only two.

Mr. Bates was a transfer from Eastside, a forty-something in wire glasses. He stood and waved to us awkwardly before sitting back down. Finally, we were introduced to the new art teacher, Miss Baxter.

She was a brand new teacher, fresh out of college. As she stood, it was obvious she was young. Miss Baxter looked like she could still be starting college, rather than having just finished. I wondered if she knew what she was in for, spending all day every day with a bunch of either rowdy or sullen seventh and eighth graders. She waved cheerily, an adorable smile on her face. Miss Baxter was cute. Pale faced, light blonde hair, a little chubby. Maybe more than a little chubby, but in a cute way. And she looked familiar. Really familiar. I wondered where I'd seen her.

"Miss Baxter is also a former student here!"

No wonder. I must have had her as a student at some point. It couldn't have been that long ago. Several teachers reacted, seeming to remember her. Finally, mercifully, Mrs. Collins brought the meeting to a close.

I stood quickly, my legs stiff from sitting in the low chair for so long. I wanted to get home. I spoke briefly with Mr. Bates, then with Mrs. Jackson. Then I headed toward the door, where the new art teacher spotted me.

"Oh my god! Mr. Schraeder! How are you?"

She seemed excited to see me. I wish I remembered her the way she seemed to remember me.

"Hey! it's great to have you here Miss Baxter. Welcome to South Middle."

"MISS Baxter! Oh my god that still sounds so weird." She was beaming, excited for her new adventure, eager and ready to influence young minds. It would have been inspiring if the rest of us hadn't been ground down by the reality over so many years. This new teacher was studying my face. "You...don't remember me, do you?"

I felt awful. At least she was still smiling.

"You...you look VERY familiar. I'm just trying to..."

"Piper! I'm Piper Baxter!"

I suddenly remembered. I think I smiled a bit as she realized I remembered her. She smiled at me smiling at her, and then laughed.

"You remember me. Of all the teachers, I knew you would!"

"Oh my god, yes I do remember you. It's been a few years."

"Too many!" She smiled wide, and giggled.

"Well I guess I'll be seeing you."

Late that night, lying awake in bed, Jennifer snoring beside me, the memories came flooding back. Piper sitting in my seventh grade history class, first class of the day. She sat in the center desk in the front row. Serious, studious, eager to learn. She seemed to follow me with her very light blue eyes and pale, slightly chubby cheeks. She usually wore a hair band, pink or light blue or purple, arched over her scalp holding back her light hair. She was likely the only girl in her grade still wearing them.

Piper had been the quintessential good girl. She never caused any trouble. If I had to raise my voice to get the entire class to quiet down, Piper seemed mortified, even if she hadn't been loud. Once when I had politey asked her to stop whispering to a friend, she looked so devastated I thought she was going to cry.

I suddenly remembered. It was the end of her seventh grade year when I had made the comment. Piper had been so concerned that she got a B on a writing assignment that she came and talked to me about it. She was terrified that she wasn't doing good enough, so distraught, getting herself worked up, that I felt sorry for her. I'd tried to get her to calm down.

"Relax, Piper," I had said. "You're probably the best student I've ever had."

"Really?" Her eyes had grown wide. "I am? I mean seriously?"

"Of course you are."

I'd meant it too. Was she really? Maybe. It's not like I kept track of these things. But if I had, Piper would certainly be in the running. It disturbed me that I hadn't recognized her at that meeting. At one time, I had taken a sort of teacherly pride in how my students did after they left school, and in my ability to remember them. I was slipping.

But she was grown now, I thought, all grown up. She wasn't the girl I taught in seventh grade, or in eighth grade, when she had finally abandoned the hair bands. That year, she had come into my room every day a few minutes early, before whatever afternoon period she had my history class, paused next to the desk and smiled at me.

"Hi Mr. Schraeder!"

She would take out her gum, and make a show of dropping it in the trash. Even back then, I was the only teacher remaining that still forbade chewing gum in class. Then she had sat in that same desk, organizing her notebooks before anyone else arrived, just me and her in the classroom for a few minutes. Sometimes, I'm sure, I'd asked her how she was doing and she would tell me about it for awhile. We would chat, usually about nothing much. She really seemed happy that year.

What had she told me this evening? Of all the teachers, I was the one she was sure would remember her?

My best ever student. How had I not remembered? And why was I still lying awake at four AM, thinking about her?

Piper was all grown up now, that's why, I thought as I rolled over to my side. All grown up and really more cute than I would ever have expected. I took a deep breath. Don't start this now. Don't start a fantasy cycle with yet another woman that you can never have. You're married. And she's barely been a woman for long. And she's not your type. She's chubby, or at least plump, and you've never been into that. Your wife beside you, with the hard body from endless expensive spin classes, that's what you're into. Jennifer is hot, remember? Everybody thinks so. And Piper is, well, she was your student. It would be weird. So stop it.

Still, I couldn't help but think, she had looked soooo cute tonight.

I was hiking tomorrow, I reminded myself. Better fall asleep. But I knew it was hopeless.

The following Monday, a week before school started, I sat at my desk, empty smaller desks arrayed before me, as I reviewed lesson plans. Nothing had really changed from last year. History was still history.

"Hey you!"

Piper - or rather, Miss Baxter - had poked her head in my open door.

"Hey!"

"Mind if I join you? I'm just cutting out decorations for my room and it's so boring to do alone."

"Sure! Come on in."

"Thanks. Ohmygod I can't wait for next week!"

Piper sat down on the floor and spread her work out in front of her, cutting out pictures of artists, and famous works, and art terminology, gluing them to posters to hang in her room.

"So what made you want to become an art teacher?"

"Well, I have a passion for art, and a passion for kids, and I wanted to do something that involved both."

"You know, middle school kids can be kind of tough to deal with. It's a difficult age."

"I know. That's why I want to work with them at this age."

She sounded so idealistic. A lot like I had, many years ago.

"I admire that. I really do."

We chatted about her time at college, my hobbies, her interests, and eventually about my wife.

"So. Miss Baxter..." Piper giggled at the sound of her teacher name. "...anyone in your life?" I couldn't help but ask.

"Josiah." She smiled cryptically. "My fiancee. We're getting married when he's finished with seminary."

"Well congratulations."

I felt a slight disappointment, surprising me as it made itself known. I had to remind myself I was also married.

"Thanks. Yeah, I'll be Mrs. Allen." It might have been my imagination, but she seemed to deflate a little as she said it.

Piper moved on to making folders for her students, decorating them, filling them with handouts and worksheets. At some point she kicked off her shoes and sat there on the floor, barefoot, legs spread with her work in front of her. I took a deep breath. Piper had adorably cute pale feet. I closed my eyes, reminding myself not to get too attracted, if I could help it.

We chatted awhile, then Piper stood to stretch, walking around, looking over my room.

"I remember this place." Smiling, she walked to the desk in the center of the front row, her old seat. Letting her hand rest on it, she smiled at me and then sat down. "How many days did I sit right here?"

Her face resting in her hands, elbows on the desk, Piper smiled at me.

"Two whole years."

Piper raised her hand, playfully.

"Mr. Schraeder, Mr. Schraeder, I have a question!" She laughed, a surprisingly beautiful laugh.

I walked toward the desk slowly. Piper smiled up at me, sitting there barefoot in her old desk. Her belly pushed against the writing surface. She brushed her hair, straight and almost shoulder-length, from her adorable face. I felt the beginnings of an erection.

"Yes, Piper? Do you have a question?"

She cocked her head slightly to the side, smiled playfully at me, and spoke.

"So, like, what's it like for you teaching all these middle school kids when you know that a lot of the girls have a serious crush on you?"

What the hell, I wondered. Piper was smiling up at me, cheek resting on her palm, playfully batting her eyelids.

"Um, well, you have to keep in mind that even if it seems like a particular student is into you, that they're likely not. It's your imagination. And even if they do, it would be wrong to acknowledge it or pursue it."

"Well yeah, the last part of course, but Mr. Schraeder, a lot of girls in my grade seriously liked you."

"No way!"

"Yes way!"

"Who?"

"Practically every girl in my grade."

"Every single girl?"

"Well maybe not every girl, but it seemed like it."

"Including you?" I felt awkward as soon as the question escaped my lips, but Piper didn't flinch from it.

"Especially me."

Oh my god. I didn't know what to say.

"Well, umm...I mean, wow. I'm speechless."

"It's ok. But yeah, I had it bad."

"So was this like, eighth grade, I'm guessing?"

"Seventh grade, eighth grade, beyond..."

"Beyond?"

"I used to come here at the end of high school to pick up Cole..."

"Oh that's right, your younger brother."

"...and I'd always try to find an excuse to have to come in. I was hoping I might run into you."

"Damn." I still didn't know what to say. "You're not just flattering me here, I mean..."

"Mr. Schraeder. I wouldn't do that. And I mean, you at least admired me, like as a student, at least a little, right?"

"Of course."

"You told me I was the best student you ever had."

"And you were."

"See?" Piper smiled a little, and paused. "We have a history, you and me."

I just stood there, letting her words sink in.

"So um, how long, you know, how long did this little crush of yours last?"

Piper didn't answer, at least not right away. She stood, walked to her work, bent over and picked up the tote bag full of it and filed the rest inside. She picked up her shoes, then approached me, still barefoot, and stood directly in front of me, almost touching, and looked up, directly up, right into my face. She had a mysterious, almost mischievous smile.

"Who said it ever ended?"

With that, Piper turned and walked slowly out the door.

Later, I walked hard around the track at the park as night fell. Piper. Oh my god, Piper. I was practically floating, my stomach was in knots and I couldn't begin to calm down.

Something about Piper's mouth. Something about her perfectly square, perfectly white front teeth and the curvature of her lips. It was the way she did something with the tip of her tongue against the back of those teeth, something crushingly adorable, whenever she was nervous. I remembered now. She had been doing it all the time since I had reconnected with her. Was it - could it be that she was nervous because of me?

It was something about Piper's eyes, large but still kind of deep set, watery very light blue, a miraculous sort of blue, a kind of bright technicolor hue that I could just get lost in, eyes that were trusting and open and vulnerable and still somehow perceptive, noticing everything. And her very thin, very light blonde eyebrows, arched high above her eyes, something that just drew you in.

Some unspeakable thing about Piper's cheeks, some wonderful thing entranced me. They were full to the point of chubby, so impossibly pale white and graced with just a few red freckles, cheeks that gave Piper a baby face, made her look so impossibly young, cheeks just begging to be cradled, to be caressed, to be kissed.

I sped up, walking hard, walking down my thoughts. Of course I thought about other women. I did it all the time. But something about this, about Piper, about whatever sort of history she thought we had, about whatever was going on, was tearing me apart like nothing ever had. This was real, and strange, and powerfully enchanting, a danger to my marriage and her engagement, and all sorts of awkward. How old was Piper? Probably twenty two. I bit my lips as I sped up my walk.

It was something about Piper's nose, adorably small and almost funny-shaped. Something about her very light blond, silky hair, thin and wispy, always flying away, looking a mess, nearly shoulder-length, a strange cut, probably between styles, letting it grow out. Something about Piper's laugh, cute and sincere and innocent, almost musical. There was something about her smile, lighting me up, making me want to laugh, to dance, to sing. There was definitey some strange thing with her belly, just chubby enough to be noticeable, normally a turn-off, but somehow on Piper attractive as hell, making me want to stand right behind her, Piper's backside pressed into me, my hands cradling that sweet adorable stomach, feeling their way up to surround her sexy little breasts, Piper's little gasp at my touch, and STOP it damnit!!! Stop! Stop! Stop!

I broke into a jog, trying to put the thoughts out of my head. This was a young woman I would have to work with. Don't make it awkward, I told myself, as I decided to take another lap.

The first day of school, I made it through my classes, teaching on autopilot. I had a planning period at the end of the day, and I sat in my room, looking over my work, gathering my courage. Finally, moments before the last bell rang, I stood, walked down the hall, and found myself standing outside the art room. After glancing at the cut-out letters spelling "Miss Baxter" on the wood, I nervously peered through the narrow vertical window in the classroom door.

Inside, Piper was teaching for all she was worth. Animated, engaged, she practically begged her students to participate. Most of them actually did. Apart from the sullen boys in the back who would never give any teacher the satisfaction of acknowledgment, her students seemed to at least be interested. Piper gestured broadly, pointing to artwork on the SmartBoard, riffing about Basquiat and Keith Haring and Banksy, excitedly previewing projects they would work on as a class.

Piper wore khaki pants, tight around her ass and her slightly thick thighs, and a thin light pink sweater. Her feet were covered in blue dress flats. Just watching her, even for a moment, I began growing erect, and felt self-conscious. My thoughts were interrupted by the bell, shrill and sudden. Seconds later, students were filing out past me.

Inside the room, Piper sat on the front table, eyes closed and smiling. She looked thrilled.

"Wow! You're a natural."

"Hey you!" Piper smiled at me warmly. "Do you spy on all the teachers, or just the new ones?"

"Funny. Just the amazing ones."

"You're sweet. Seriously that was - I mean, wow. This is the greatest day of my life. I've dreamed of this forever."

"Then I'm glad to be here for it."

"Ohmygosh. Amazing. So like, that Trenton kid, is he always so sarcastic?"

"Just to teachers he likes. If he says anything at all, you're doing good."

"And Kaylee - oh she's so sweet."

"She's a good student."

"Oh I'm gonna love this! It's just...wow!"

Piper was beaming. We talked about her day, and about mine. The school gradually cleared out. We talked some more, about her plans for the evening, about mine, about dinner and chores and everything after, the stuff of everyday life. Piper smiled at me, let her hand rest almost on top of mine. Looking down, I noticed her left shoe barely hanging on to the toes of her now mostly bare left foot. I sighed.

"Seriously, this was so amazing. I can't believe I get to do this every day."

"And the day after that, and the next, and the year after that, and..."

"Oh god you're so funny. It's like adorable how you pretend you're over it all, but I can tell you're not. You still love this."

"Maybe I do. Maybe I just needed some help remembering, from my best ever student."

Piper smiled at me, and was quiet for a minute.

"I'm really glad you're here, Piper."

"I wouldn't want to be anywhere else..."

Her eyes shone, staring right into mine, and she smiled, this little half smile, and did that little thing with her tongue, then Piper took a deep breath. Before I realized anything was happening, our faces leaned closer to each other, and then a little closer, and suddenly Piper's lips were pressed against mine, sweetly and softly and oh my god they felt warm and soft and wet and wonderful.

Three seconds, maybe four. The kiss couldn't have lasted long, though it seemed to go on forever and ever. Instinctively, I eagerly pressed my lips into Piper's, passionately kissing her sweet mouth. Her hand found mine, gripping it, and I gripped hers, caressed the little space between Piper's thumb and forefinger with the tip of my own thumb. I felt lightheaded and ecstatic, amazed at what was happening, just enjoying the feeling of this amazing young woman's kiss, her loving affection, soft and sweet, until our lips parted, just slightly, and we opened our eyes, and panted, breathing into each others' mouths, out of breath, and Piper sighed with her whole body.

"Oh. Ohmygosh. Oh gosh oh gosh oh Chris oh I'm so so sorry oh no Chris oh what have I - oh NO I'm - I'm so so sorry I shouldn't have done that no, oh just NO oh no ohmygosh..."

I thought Piper would hyperventilate.

"It's ok, it's..."

"No. It's wrong it's so wrong ohmygosh oh..."

I tried to calm her, but Piper quickly grabbed her things and rushed out the door, clearly upset, leaving me sitting alone in her art room, wondering just what had hit me.

I didn't sleep at all that night. I kept reliving the kiss, over and over, trying to memorize exactly how Piper's lips had felt against mine, how her breath felt in my mouth, the look of her face up so close, just before our eyes closed. From her reaction, I didn't expect anything like it to happen again. But the same kiss that had sent Piper into a quagmire of guilt had sparked an even deeper fire in me. Fuck, I desired her. I was sort of amazed by her. More than ever, I wanted Piper.

Had she planned it? It didn't seem like it - it seemed spontaneous. I mean, we had been flirting, hadn't we? But something about the reality of it sent Piper over the edge. I had no idea how to navigate this, how to move forward. I just knew I was glad it had happened.

That night, Jennifer lay beside me, breathing deeply. I did feel bad. This was the first time I'd ever cheated, even a little. I felt like I was letting Jennifer down. We didn't have the best relationship right now, we were sort of going through the motions, but it wasn't like some sort of awful marriage. A fight here or there, but mostly two busy people being busy together, and also apart. Jennifer had done nothing wrong, and I felt regretful. But there was just - Piper - there was something about Piper that just wouldn't let go of me. I felt helpless to control this raging attraction.