House of Sand

"Whatever," I griped, sitting down. "I'm just trying to make a good impression."

"Make an impact," she reminded. "But your instincts are right. Until you get that continuing contract, try your best not to tick anyone off." She paused, hearing the loud voice of a man coming down the hallway. She rolled her eyes. "Speaking of impressions, if this guy comes into the room in the next few seconds, don't listen to a word he says."

"What?" I wrinkled my nose. "Who's coming?"

"Hey!" The man shouted from the doorway. He wore an odd-shaped, outdated suit that looked like he bought it from a rack rather than a tailor. He had a scruffy goatee that he neither brushed nor trimmed. He approached me with an outstretched hand.

"I'm Jefferson," he greeted as we shook. "You're Ms. King, correct?" He rattled my arm violently.

"Yes, but you can call me Maddie," I said, frightened by his grip.

He spoke quickly. "I'm your mentor this year," he claimed, a crooked smile emerging. "Hi, Anna," he said mellowly.

"Hey, Jefferson," Anna replied with equal emptiness. She crossed her arms while the happiness drained from her face.

"What's a mentor?" I asked politely. Jefferson looked at his watch.

"Oh," he waved his hand fervently. "I guess I should've said that first. Basically, if you ever have any questions or concerns, then we can talk. If you want me to observe you teach, then I can do that. I'm here to help you as a new teacher."

I forced a smile, "cool."

"No problem," he articulated hastily, peering at his watch again. "Sorry, but I gotta run. I'll catch up with you later."

"Thanks," I mumbled before he darted out of the room.

Anna sighed and looked at the floor. "Michael Jefferson." Her lifeless expression was worth more than her words could have explained.

"What's wrong with him?"

"Nothing, nothing," she replied, her arms still crossed. "Just watch your back when he's around."

"How do you mean?"

"He's a backstabber," Anna clarified.

"So I'm guessing y'all have a history?"

Anna smirked, "did you say y'all?"

"I told you I lived in the South for a few years," I returned.

"But you don't sound like a Southerner -- you have a blasé accent."

"Well, thanks," I snarled. "I love when people say I'm blasé."

"I didn't mean it negatively, silly." Anna's countenance returned to its lively nature.

"I'm not going to pick up an accent after a couple of years," I elaborated. "And you didn't answer my question," I pried, lowering my voice to a whisper. "Y'all have a history?"

"It's old business," Anna stated. "I wanna give him a fair shot with you. Just watch your back."

"You already told me not to trust him."

"And I probably shouldn't have. That's before I realized he was your mentor. Try to give him a fair shot."

"Sure," I responded.

"Anyway," Anna unfolded her arms. "At noon, you wanna go to lunch with me and a few others?"

"Yeah," I replied excitedly. "Who's going?"

Anna looked at the ceiling as she thought, "Jim -- he's a math teacher, Ellie from guidance, and Becca -- she teaches English. We're going to B's."

"Just down the street, right?" I pointed in a general westbound direction.

"Yup," Anna confirmed. "They're fun people. I hate everyone else."

"What?" I squeaked.

Anna's face hardened. She added, "listen, it's hard to get on my good side. I have a hard time taking adults seriously. They're liars, hypocrites, and complainers. See how many of them complain about their kids being on phones in class, but they themselves are on their phones in faculty meetings. Or they complain about class tardies, but show up twenty minutes late for work. "

"Geez," I breathed.

"Hey, I keep my circle of friends small. That's all I can say. And as far as I'm concerned, that means I'm less likely to allow someone to hurt me or take advantage of me."

"I guess so," I agreed.

"But you're different, Maddie. We're not going to be enemies."

"That's the least flattering positive thing anyone has ever said to me: 'we're not going to be enemies'."

"Yup!" She skipped. "Cause if we were--" She smacked her teeth without finishing the sentence.

At lunch, we gathered around a cramped table in the corner of the restaurant. Against my wishes, Anna again demanded to pay for my meal, citing my newness as a reason for needing to save my money.

"I'll have the Mediterranean salad," I pointed at the menu.

Jim gave a friendly scoff at my choice. "I'd be hungry in twenty minutes if I ate that." The waitress turned to him and he ordered a basket of wings and fries. "Extra ranch," he noted. Jim was a tall African-American man. His bubbly personality and boisterous voice permeated the room.

As the waitress moved to Anna, Jim queried, "are you excited for your first year?"

"Excited," I responded. "Nervous, of course, but excited."

"The nervousness will die away soon enough," he consoled. "Once you get your footing, you'll be fine."

"Easy for you to say, Jim," Rebecca butted into the conversation. She looked at me while pointing at Jim, "He's got their respect before he even opens his mouth. It's a man's thing." She now gestured toward me, "but you, Maddie, have to be careful. You're a young-looking lady and they'll take advantage of you if you don't put your foot down on day one." Jim shook his head disagreeably, but he did not respond.

"It's true, Jim," Becca declared. Again, Jim shook his head. Becca continued, "kids automatically respect men more than women. They'll try to take advantage of a young female teacher."

Jim defended, "it's about your personality, not the way you look."

Becca disagreed, "hmm -- personality is important, but sometimes looks help." Rebecca looked as young as me, though she was in her mid-thirties, married, and had two kids in middle school. She was cute and she seemed to speak from experience. "I made the mistake of being too nice my first year teaching. Don't make that mistake."

Ellie added, "but you don't want to be too mean, Maddie. Then they won't respect you." Ellie, short for Eleanore, was a small, red-headed, nerdy-looking woman. "But I work in the guidance office, so I only have to deal with one at a time."

Anna waved her hands to break up the conversation. "Ignore what they're saying, Maddie." Jim groaned playfully. Anna said, "Just be you. You'll get a million pieces of unsolicited advice from teachers about how to teach. But you'll learn that the best thing you can do is be you. Yes, be firm, but be forgiving. Be fun, but be informative. You have to find the balance that's best for your classroom, and every teacher is different."

Jim interjected, "I thought the plan was to come to lunch and talk about something besides work."

Ellie squinted, "Jim, you started the conversation about teaching."

"I know, right?" Becca agreed.

"I didn't--" Jim lifted his eyes to the ceiling and realized Ellie was right.

Becca mentioned, "so how are you liking Washington, Maddie? Having fun yet?"

"I love it," I answered. "It's a beautiful place to live. I've only gotten to experience it in the past few weeks because I was in a leg cast for about two months."

Ellie's eyes became like a puppy's, "aww, what happened?"

"Wrecked my car in Virginia," I admitted, my voice still threaded with embarrassment from my stupidity. "Anna actually witnessed the whole thing and helped me out. That's how we met."

Becca's asked, "so you met and then got hired at Haley?"

"No," I contended. "I was hired first -- had never met her before. Then she saw the whole thing. It was bizarre, I know." Everyone's expressions verified the peculiarity of the event. Jim's eyes bugged out, Ellie's forehead wrinkled, and Becca's nose snarled. Anna sat aloofly in the corner.

I continued, "broke my leg in the crash. Anna helped me out for a few weeks, and that's when we learned we'd be working together at Haley." I gleamed, "she helped me out quite a bit."

"That's really cool," Ellie grinned. "I mean, sorry about your leg and all, but that's -- that's weird, but cool at the same time." Ellie walked the line of awkwardness. Everything she said was confounding, odd, or out of place.

I snickered, "yeah, I guess I'm glad it was her and not someone else -- or that she didn't just keep going."

The group gazed at me admirably. I kept on, "but I really enjoy living here. I used to live in a small town and I hated every bit of it."

Jim grumbled lightly, "wait until you get your tax bills. One day, I might move to the country just to save money."

I shook my head, "couldn't be me. It drove me crazy when the whole town knew all of my business. It always felt like I was being watched."

"I feel like a sardine in Washington," he commented. "Though I could never live in the country itself. Suburban life would be better for me."

Anna propped herself in the corner made by the booth and the wall. She silently took in the conversation. I snapped peeks at her. Even her arms were beautiful: her skin was silk dusted with tiny streaks of blond hair. She perfectly groomed her nails, though they were unpainted. Her fingers looked like that of an angel's. Anna was simple; she made no attempt to be attractive. Yet her beauty was as complex and as natural as the majesty of prodigious mountains or of a mighty river. Her hair danced in the soft breeze of the air vent situated above her. She crossed her legs at the ankles and her -- oh, shit. She sees me.

"That's my goal," Anna rejoined the discussion after catching my stare. "To buy a house in suburbia instead of paying all this rent. Like you and your husband, Becca."

"Then do it," Becca shrugged.

"Still saving money," Anna remarked. "Plus, it'd be nice to wait until I have someone to share it with."

Ellie joked, "yeah, still waiting on that future husband of mine to show up." Her smile sank as she looked at Anna. "Sorry," she murmured.

Anna turned her palms upward. "Sorry for what?"

Ellie said, "you're not straight."

Anna chuckled confusedly, "what does that have to do with anything?"

Ellie rephrased, "cause I said I was waiting for a husband, and you -- you -- never mind."

Anna tried not to laugh. "My sexuality doesn't mean you have to alter your language. If I said I had bacon for breakfast, I shouldn't then have to apologize if you're vegetarian. You would just know that you don't eat bacon and I do."

"But I'm not a vegetarian," Ellie squinted.

Anna palmed her face. "Never mind." A round of giggles went around the table at Ellie's expense.

"Where do you plan on moving?" Becca asked.

"Probably somewhere outside of the city limits," Anna answered. "I'm not picky. I just want to start building some equity so that I can retire a millionaire."

"A millionaire?" Jim jumped. He turned his palms upward. "How much are you making?"

Anna leaned forward and counted on her fingers, "well, if when I'm sixty-five I have a house worth two or three hundred thousand and over seven hundred thousand between my two retirement plans, yeah, I'll be worth a million. It's about planning," she insisted. She leaned back and took a sip of her water. She sat haughtily as if she had figured out the secret to success. She glanced at me and grinned. I returned the smile.

Jim prodded, "I'm still tryna pay off this credit card and you're already thinking about rolling in money."

Anna shrugged, "my fear is running out of cash in my old age. That and dying alone."

Becca smirked, "sounds like a good plan. Dying sucks, too."

"What about you, Maddie?" Anna gleamed, her smile seizing my mind.

"Me?" I laid my hand on my chest.

"Yes, you. The only Maddie at the table, goofy."

"Oh, I uh -- truth be told, I haven't really thought about it much. My mind has been more focused on starting my career. I haven't even gotten my first check yet, so a house is in the distant future."

Jim added, "yeah, I haven't even figured out what's for dinner tonight."

The waiter returned carrying an impressive five plates at once, and we shoveled down our food to make it back to the next meeting in time.

* * *

By day three, it was evident Anna enjoyed spending more time in my classroom than in her own. "I hate these teacher workdays," she complained. She sat in a metal chair, leaning it backward periodically. "They're usually filled with pointless meetings just for the sake of having meetings." She opened a bag of pistachios and offered me one.

"No, thanks," I shook my head.

She rambled on, "you know, it seems like we'd be better off if they gave us more time to work in our rooms. We literally played education-data Bingo this morning. What the hell?"

"You don't enjoy faculty meetings?" I joked facetiously.

Anna shrugged, "who does?" She threw her arms in the air. "I'd much rather be doing something productive."

I rolled over my hands and pointed out, "you're literally doing nothing productive right now."

Her dimples appeared. "Hey, I'm opposing faculty meetings on your behalf, not mine. Once you've taught several years, there's a lot less planning to do." She pointed at me with a pencil. "But you -- you're busy, right? And does it benefit you to watch the admin take twenty minutes to figure out how to get the sound working for their presentation?"

"No, it doesn't help, and yes, I'm busy." I sighed, furiously typing on my keyboard. "I've been scrambling around trying to get everything ready for classes next week."

"I'm not slowing you down, am I?" Anna questioned.

"No, you're fine."

"Are you sure?" She gestured with her thumb toward the door. "Cause I can leave if you need me to."

"No, it's fine," I repeated. "I enjoy your company." Anna tossed another pistachio in her mouth, her expression one of arrogance as if she predicted my answer correctly.

I questioned, "why is your name not popping up in the email bank? I'm trying to send you these lesson plans I'm supposed to give you."

"Anna won't work, Maddie," she breathed. "I'm glad we've known each other for three months and you still don't know my name."

I sputtered, "I -- I know your name. I just forget it's not really Anna."

"My name is Anna, dummy. Short for Anastasia Tatiana Levitsky. I remember that yours is Maddison, but still call you Maddie."

"I'm not good with names," I apologized. "I didn't mean to--"

Her tummy shuddered as her smile took over her face. She giggled, "and you always fall apart when I jab at you. I'm only kidding, you know."

"You make me feel terrible," I groaned. "I've always worried about annoying people."

Anna ruffled her nose. "Who have you ever annoyed? You're literally the sweetest person I've ever met. Anyone who doesn't like you is an imbecile as far as I'm concerned." Anna fixed her eyes to me more closely. "And you blush every time someone gives you a compliment. You're sweet and humble, and your lobster face is the evidence."

"Thanks -- I guess," I replied.

Anna looked at me longingly, her soft brown eyes ripping apart my mind. My heart leaped. I jittered, "you -- uh -- have one 'n' in Anastasia but two in Anna. How's that?"

She shrugged casually. "Beats me."

"How well do you speak Ukrainian? I know you said your parents were immigrants."

Anna corrected, "they are, but I'm an immigrant too -- technically."

I leaned forward, forfeiting my attention to the computer. "Wait, I thought you said you were from Pennsylvania -- that your parents are Ukrainian."

"Kinda," she balanced the chair on two legs. "My dad is Russian, but he moved to Ukraine and met Mom. That's when it was all in the same country. I was born in Ukraine, but I moved to the U.S. when I was a baby and I never went back."

"But do you speak the language?"

Anna nodded, "learned it from my parents."

"Say something!" I exclaimed.

"Привіт," she replied, pulling the shell from another pistachio.

"What's--"

"It means hello," she jumped. "But I grew up in rural Pennsylvania. I know nothing of living over there."

"What brought your parents here?"

Anna rested the chair on all four of its legs. "Long story short, let's just say life in Ukraine in 1991 was very uncertain." She looked down at the pistachio between her fingers as she spoke. Her voice became soft. "My parents told me stories of bread lines and poverty in the Soviet Union. They came to America with the same goal as most immigrants, seeking a better life. When they arrived in America, they started working for some guy on a farm. About ten years later, Dad was eventually able to get a loan and buy a small tract of land." Anna lifted her eyes, "I helped with the farm work too as an unpaid employee. We harvested corn by hand until he was able to buy better equipment." Anna grinned as she ate another nut. "How was life for a Virginia-born girl?"

I chuckled, "well, I was born in New York, but I don't remember that either. My parents aren't actually my biological parents. I was adopted when I was an infant. Then I went to the university on scholarships and the few bucks that I made working after school."

"Impressive," Anna said. "Tough girl."

I glared, "as tough as the daughter of a corn-picker?"

Anna pretended to be offended, "hey, I was a corn-picker, not just the daughter of one."

"Right," I snapped my fingers. "Nothing's tougher than girl a who shucks corn."

Anna's shoulders shook with laughter and she covered her mouth to avoid showing her chewed food. She added, "my parents still have the farm, but now they're well-off enough that they can hire people -- although they're not wealthy by any means." She added, "Dad's almost 78 now and Mom is 69; they're semi-retired." She looked toward her lap, her lips tightening as she considered her parents' old age. I tilted my head and Anna must've seen that I was trying to figure the math. "Dad was 47 when I was born," she noted. "A bit late, I guess. People often mistook my parents for my grandparents. Dad calls me his walking miracle."

"Walking miracle?"

The color drained from her face, "yeah, he was born in the Soviet Union in 1943. The Germans slaughtered most of his family. Disease and famine got the rest. During the war, Russian life was very sad -- such was life in Leningrad. And then to have me that late in life is a hard deal. Mom had a similar story, though not as drastic. But I'm their only child, so they spoiled me a bit."

"You're family's the tough one," I insisted.

Anna proclaimed, her voice suddenly more lively, "No aunts. No uncles. No cousins. No grandparents. There's always three of us on Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year's Day. When anyone ever asks why I have such a small family, I just say 'Nazis'." Her expression remained stern, and I struggled to discern whether or not she was serious. But a smile leaped to her face as she fed herself another pistachio, and I allowed myself to grin.

She testified, evoking a sense of seriousness once more, "but while the Germans may have forgotten about their racist and imperialistic past, I assure you, the Soviet people will never forget." Anna added, "but to get back to the point, my dad was a foster kid because of the war. That's what reminded me of the story. Do you know what became of your biological parents?"

"I don't know what happened. I've never had the inclination to find out. People want to feel sorry for me when I tell them I was raised an orphan, but really, I'm terrified to think of a life growing up without my adoptive parents or foster siblings. They are as good a family as one could want, though annoying from time to time."

"Glad to hear," Anna commented. "Encouragement, love, and support is what we need to survive. And everybody's family is annoying, so don't sweat it."

"Yup," I agreed.

"Damn," she mumbled. "We have interesting backgrounds."

I nodded in affirmation. "That we do."