Page 67 of You Again

It worked.

“It’s Robert,” he says, sitting up straighter in his seat and slipping one arm around Margo’s back. “Rosalie never told you about me?”

“Believe it or not, we have much better things to talk about than you.”

“Rosalie.” Margo leans in, her elbows on the table. “Are you still at Sierra View?”

“Um.” My breath hitches. She knows the name of my school. She knows more than me. I look at Zev. I answered his occupation question, so the least he could do is answer mine. But he makes no move to talk for me. Of course he doesn’t. His brain isn’t broken. His right leg moves, brushing up to mine. Like magic, I find my voice again. “Actually, no.”

Margo’s brows lift. “Really?” she says as if this is juicy gossip and I’m about to spill all the tea.

She’s going to be disappointed.

“Yeah. It was… great. Super great.” At least, Fran said I loved it. “However, I’ve decided to resign and go back to college.” I clear my throat. “I’m getting my certificate in secondary education.”

Somehow Margo’s brows raise higher. She didn’t expect this. It makes me feel as if I’m being tested and answering wrong. As if she knows me better than I know myself.

My body would like to give into the panic when⁠—

“Rosalie, that’s great.” Robert’s grin widens. “I never understood why you switched to elementary.”

He and I both.

“Yeah, well… options.” I’m unsure how to defend the choices I made when I’m not sure why I made them in the first place.

Zev jumps in. “Rosalie can teach anything. She is a gifted teacher. It doesn’t matter the age of the child.” He sounds like Grammy.

“But teaching secondary has to be so much more rewarding. You’d see more strides in students. You’d be able to have actual conversations. It has to be more challenging.” Robert snuffs out a laugh—and then he winks at me.

Did Margo see that? Did I imagine it?

“You can have a conversation with an elementary student. And you don’t think giving a child the foundation work for reading and writing would be rewarding? You don’t think creating that groundwork would be challenging?” Zev scoffs, leaning back in his chair, scowling at Robert. “Without good teachers in their younger years, older kids will struggle the rest of their lives in all other subjects.”

I think of Partida, of the conversations we’ve shared about books. I can’t imagine teaching her and not feeling rewarded.

Robert lifts one shoulder as if Zev hasn’t made several excellent points.

“It’s true,” I say. “We need skilled elementary teachers to ensure kids can maintain all they want to learn as they grow older.” I feel like I’m making things up as I sit here… and yet, I believe what I’ve said to be true.

“All teachers are important—can we agree on that?” Margo says. She smiles at Zev. Ahem. That’s my date, Margo. “I teach elementary school,” she says, just for Zev.

“We are very aware,” I gripe as if I’m still holding out animosity for this woman who is nothing more than a stranger to me.

Except that, she clearly knows me. And clearly, she’s exuding some guilty feelings. Fran is my trusted bestie, and she told me I couldn’t trust Margo. That she betrayed me. Why is it so easy to forget?

But with my declaration, Margo’s cheeks flush pink, confirming her guilt.

“Sure, Margo’s excellent at teaching two plus two.” Robert looks at me when he says this, his tone mocking. Like we’re in on some joke together. “But the Pythagorean Theorem? I don’t think so.” The comment feels cruel and beneath him. He’s belittling what she does, and I don’t understand the purpose. She’s his wife.

Zev wraps an arm around the back of my chair, his fingers brushing at the skin just below the cuff of my short-sleeved shirt. Such a small, intimate detail. Maybe he’s an actor. If so, I have to see him in something.

Our waiter comes with drinks, chips, and salsa, ready to take our order. The minute we’ve given it, Margo stands. “I’ll be back. Restroom.” The woman is certainly uncomfortable. I didn’t help with that, and Robert almost acts as if she isn’t even here.

I’m not exactly comfortable either. But Zev is at least keeping me sane.

Maybe he was right. Maybe this was a bad idea. I just thought that if I could see Robert, and if we could be friends, that maybe I could move forward. Even if I needed a mourning period after.

“Salsa?” Robert says, lifting the small bowl from the table and pointing it toward Zev.