Outside In (33 page)

Feelings from earlier return as I step into the moonlight on
the edge of the cliff. Sickness again swells inside me. I straighten my body in defiance, bringing my feet close, closer than I’ve yet dared to step. “Fuck you! You want me? You can have me. I’m not playing this game anymore. I’m sick of you following me, hunting me like an animal. You can’t beat me because I’m giving up. It’s over.”

A gust of wind bursts through the trees and pushes me to the brink. For a moment I think about fighting, trying to correct my balance. Then I stare down at the macabre surface and let myself fall.

Splash
.

Surrounded by water, I exhale to force myself to the bottom. As my feet touch, I swallow a mouthful of water.

Stay calm. Let your body sink.

I ingest another mouthful and open my eyes, straining to look through the blanket of water I have pulled over my face.

Digging my fingers into the stones around me, I resist the urge to fight for the surface. Why shouldn’t it end this way? I’m no different than any of these rocks, each slowly worn down by life until it’s barely distinguishable from the others.

I swallow another gulp. My body convulses. How long will this go on? I peer at the surface only several feet away but have no desire to reach it.

My limbs relax. A thin glow of light hovers above the surface. I no longer feel the rocks underneath me. I focus on the light. I’m floating. I’m free.

Finally, peace.

The glow burns in smaller flashes through my closed eyes. I squeeze my eyelids tighter, but the radiance engulfs me. A surge of heat rockets through my body.

The stones I felt kinship with just moments ago now offer nothing. The warmth surrounds me. My body rises. I grope for something to hold on to.

A flood of fear fires through me. Wait. Not yet.

Faces of students flash in my mind. Each one, a universe of possibilities. I shake my head to dispel the images. They return. I have tried so hard to forget them, convinced myself I don’t care. But they won’t go away. They won’t leave me alone. Filled with hope, they plead for me to stay.

I open my eyes. The glow blinds me. My arms drop; my fingers graze the lake floor. I can’t give up. I reach down and latch onto a rock. I squeeze the end and pull myself down. As my right hand firmly wraps around it, my left hand touches the bottom.

The heat reduces to a warming sensation. The light is visible only above me. The firmer my hold, the more the light fades, again appearing as a thin coating covering the surface. My legs drop. I plant my feet on the bottom and maneuver myself upright. Still disoriented, I focus my attention on the thin layer of moonlight painted on the surface.

It wasn’t the administration I was fighting in St. Louis; it was responsibility. I couldn’t do enough—I couldn’t save Barry—so I shut down. I quit. I thought that by teaching I was living for other people, putting my life on hold. I was so wrong. Each person I helped revealed another piece of me. I can’t give up.

I exhale what little air I have and propel myself upward. The force of my thrust pries my eyelids open.

The best parts of me are reflections of others.

My hand vanishes through the surface and then my wrist and forearm until finally my face breaks the threshold.

Air blasts into my lungs. I slip back underneath the surface and swallow another mouthful of water. Struggling back above the waterline, I locate the shore seventy yards away. I roll over on my back and kick.

Only water in front of me and stars above me, but at least I’m alive. Maybe I had to become who I’m not to understand who I
truly am. I’ve been searching so desperately to find my identity, trying to fabricate the person I wanted to be. All I had to do was let go.

I have been here all along.

I spin around and allow my feet to sink and finally connect with the bottom. The probing glare from the stars has softened, and some encouragement returns. I made it. I can no longer hide from myself. I’m finished putting on masks and rearranging the world around me. I’m home. My cord has been reattached, and I accept the responsibility.

I finally belong.

I trudge the remaining thirty yards to shore.

On the beach the waves wrap around my ankles and willfully let go. I’m free. Free from more than just the pain and suffering of past events. Perhaps I haven’t been running from anything after all, but rather have been running
toward
this moment when I finally have a conversation with myself and honestly examine where I’ve been, where I am, and where I want to be, this moment when I take responsibility for my past and present and say: I am me. The time is now. Let’s begin.

I take two more steps to clear the waves and collapse on the beach.

“Brad? Brad, are you here?” Astrid’s voice rains down from the cliff.

I squint to block out the sun.

She follows the path to the beach. “What are you doing? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” I close my eyes and tilt my head back. “Just fine.”

Haley and Birch trail behind. Astrid extends a hand to help me up. “They came to my place looking for you and said they
had already been to the barn and that your car and bike were there, so I got worried. Did you know it’s after ten? You have a long day ahead.”

I stand. Water squishes from my boots.

Birch says, “Decide to go for a swim and forget to take your boots off?”

“Something like that. I went for a walk and ended up here.”

Haley says, “Let’s go, jackass. We can still catch the eleven o’clock boat.”

I gaze out across the lake. “I’m not going anywhere.”

No one responds because they don’t have to. Haley’s incensed “What?” answers for them.

I say, “I thought a lot about it last night—and this business isn’t for me. I’m not a bartender or a bouncer. I’m a teacher. It doesn’t mean I have to do it forever, but teaching is what I need to be doing right now. That’s where it began, and that’s where it continues.”

Haley says, “Unbelievable. How selfish can you be? Of course you need those kids after the summer you’ve had. But do they really need you? Is a drug-addicted, alcoholic teacher really the best thing for them?”

“Come on, Haley,” Birch says. “You’re upset. Don’t say something you’ll regret.”

“No, if we’re going to be honest, let’s be honest. I’m sorry about Cinch. I really am. But what did you guys expect? You’re partying all summer, jamming that shit up your nose. Did you really expect good things to happen? Sure, you feel bad now, but it’ll pass, and you’ll go right back to doing the same stupid shit. Quit kidding yourself, quit fucking lying to yourself. You want to stay here so you can keep partying and not lose your drug connection.”

As I listen to her, I think: She’s not thinking about what’s best for me. She’s thinking about what’s best for her. Maybe she has
been all along, ever since the moment when I lay on her lap and she told me to come to this island. It was always about what she wanted. I just fit nicely into her plan.

“Maybe you should just go,” Astrid says. “This isn’t going to solve anything.”

“You’re right,” Haley says. “I’m tired of wasting my time on this loser.”

If I were playing a game, the best move would be indifference. Let her go and live with the bitterness. But after last night, it isn’t a game anymore. It’s my life. Besides, I’m not completely sure she’s wrong. Do I just want to hide, using the kids to purge myself of guilt?

“Wait.” I block the path to the cliff. “I don’t claim to have been a saint since I came here.”

Her scowl pierces me. “There’s an understatement.”

“I don’t expect you to understand or even believe me. I’m doing what I think is best for me. I don’t care whether it’s logical, rational, or appropriate because I know it’s the right move for me.”

“Are you finished?” Haley says. “Good. Have a nice life.”

Birch waits for Haley to leave. “Don’t worry about her. She’ll cool down in a few weeks. Are you serious about the teaching? Are you really ready to go back into the classroom?”

“I’m ready. If not here, then I’ll go to the mainland and substitute. I want to go back; I need to go back. My vacation is over.”

Once I decided to go after the open teaching position the school district had been unable to fill, I knew I had to trade the red barn for more suitable living accommodations. It’s amazing how many options opened up, and how fast, once word traveled that I was a certified teacher and wanted to stay on the island and work at the school.

On the first day of school, I reach over and turn off the alarm, hoping not to wake Astrid.

She rolls on top of me. “Nervous? I think I’m more excited than you are. I’ll be honest, I was hoping to tempt you to go back to OSU with me for the fall quarter, but this is the place for you. I could see it that morning at the cove. Your fear and uncertainty are gone. You belong here—on the island—and you belong in the classroom.”

I place my hand on her face, gently rubbing her cheek. My eyes focus on her chin and follow the angle to her cheekbone, then across the bridge of her nose and back down to her chin, admiring the symmetrical frame the three points form. I raise my eyes from her chin to her pursed lips, attempting to memorize every curve and indentation. Her nose is neither flat nor pointed but begins in a rounded tip that melts into her cheeks. Her eyes narrow and draw me in as our stares connect. Her pupils catch what little light is in the room and sparkle, further feeding the growing hope inside me that a new life is beginning.

“You’ve been a great friend to me over the summer.” I slide my hand along her neck and rest it on her shoulder. “I knew from the first time I saw these shoulders I would fall in love with you. Just like everything else in my life, I had to run from it, but I’m tired of fighting, and I’m finished running. Each—”

She puts her hand over my mouth. “You talk too much. For once will you just shut up and kiss me?” I lean over, but she pulls away. “Besides, you’re still going to be living here, on an island in the middle of Lake Erie. I’ll know where to find you … if I want to.” She pushes me on my back and finishes the kiss.

As I walk to school, memories of Cinch and Astrid and our summer together take my mind off the anxiety that bounces between
my head and stomach. I don’t know if I understand life any better, but I accept it. The choices will never stop. Whether the outcome is good or bad, each one opens the path a little more. We never truly arrive. There is no there. Only here. The most important thing is to keep going.

I’ve never liked good-byes, but with Astrid it’ll be different. There’s neither sadness nor regret because we know we’ll see each other again. For now it’s time for each of us to begin again in different directions.

I’ll be teaching. In the mornings, four periods of math ranging from pre-algebra to pre-calculus; in the afternoon, monitoring study halls and tutoring. The salary is paltry, but I would’ve accepted even less. After what I’ve been through, I’m not about to put a price tag on my life. For the first time I know exactly where I want to be; I know where I belong.

The five ninth-grade students who make up my first period class file in. I write on the blackboard to stay busy. After the principal concludes the morning announcements, I place the chalk in the tray and turn to face them. “Good morning, class. My name is Mr. Shepherd. I’ll be your math teacher this year.”