The day after Jorge Rust turned eighteen was the day he realized his destiny. It was that day, clutching all he owned in a clear plastic trash bag, his first blessed love appeared.
"Oh, Jorge." Mrs. McNamstock rolled her window down to peer at her ex-pupil through the rain.
"Hi teach." Jorge straightened up and relaxed his shoulders in an attempt to look less pathetic. The crinkle of pity in Mrs. McNamstock's blue eyes made his efforts ring hollow.
"Where's your mother?" she asked.
"Tahiti. I think. Said, I was old enough to look after myself now."
Mrs. McNamstock pursed her pouty red lips. "I bet she did."
Jorge hopped from foot to foot to keep some warmth. "If you don't mind Mrs.McNamstock but I need to find a place out of the rain."
"You have a place to stay?"
"I was going to hideout in a convenience store then . . ." Jorge ended the sentence with a deflated shrug, cheeks reddening at his helplessness.
"Get in. I can drive you where you want to, not like I have anywhere else to be."
Jorge didn't have to think twice about escaping the cold rain into the warm car. He laid his hands on the heater as Mrs. McNamstock returned to traffic. Their short conversation had allowed enough time for the full force of rush hour traffic to hit their position.
"Any family? Friends?"
"No, and you already know the answer to that last one."
Mrs. McNamstock sighed and leaned against the car door on her side. Jorge noticed the pinched skin where her engagement ring used to be. He followed the naked finger up Mrs. Namstock's lovely thin white arm to her heart-shaped face. She had let her curly red hair grow longer than her usual pixie cut so it now rested at her nape.
Jorge's gaze was inextricably drawn to Mrs. McNamstock's small, yet perfectly round, breast by her cellphone ringing. She plucked the device out of her shirt, checked the caller id, and then tossed in the back in disgust. "Bastard."
Something about her adjusting her bra sent a furtive heat down Jorge's spine. It only took one furtive look to confirm what his tightened jeans warned him. He yanked his trash bag closer to his pants. Salvation in the form of a Speedway appeared on the next corner. "You can drop me off over there."
Mrs.McNamstock pulled into the convenience store's parking lot but didn't release the child lock on his door. She rested heavily on her door, hand to her forehead in deep thought.
"Teach?"
She cast him a strange look. "Why don't you come stay at my place until you can find a place of your own?"
"Wait. Really?"
"Yeah, why not? You've graduated and it isn't as if I haven't got the room." She flicked a dismissive finger at the phone left rumbling on the back seat.
"I don't know ma'am. Wouldn't it make you look bad?"
"First, what have I said on calling me ma'am? Second, you've graduated. Anyone's got an issue with me, they can take it up the arse. You in or out?"
Jorge studied the rain smeared world outside the car window. Where was he going to go? A homeless shelter? A bench? At his mother's most irresponsible, she still made certain he had a bed to sleep in. Even if the bed was a flat musty motel bed. "Okay."
"Woohoo! Slumber party!" Mrs. McNamstock flicked on the radio to some hip-hop, pumping her fist like the worst cheerleader at a pep rally.
You could say a lot about Mrs. McNamstock but she was one of those teachers who tried. The least he could do was to do in kind. Jorge pinched himself to kill the boner and inwardly swore to keep whatever dirty thoughts his brain popped up buried deep inside.
The trash littered streets belonging to Pleasant Heights soon gave way to the somewhat perfectly manicured lawns of Richard's Burrough. Jorge had never seen so many street lights on at once except in movies. Her house's interior was the same.
"You can have any bedroom upstairs to the left. The door with the golden knob is the bathroom. I'll have dinner ready at around seven, do you have any allergies?"
"No," Jorge muttered. He was too busy taking in the sights to really consider her question. Following the shiny wooden banister upstairs, brought Jorge to a spacious carpeted second floor. "Can I take a bath?"
"Of course! Gold doorknob."
Jorge was about to slip inside the bathroom when he noticed something glinting through the cracked door of the room next to it. The glint was Mrs. McNamstock's wedding ring and the room was a nursery.
A torn apart nursery.
The ring rested in the slats between the overturned crib, half-buried under a mountain of towels. Jorge hurried closed the door as he felt the acute awareness that he had seen something he shouldn't.
Question buzzed around his mind during dinner while he wolfed down Mrs.McNamstock's beef stroganoff. Mrs.McNamstock made it easy to keep his mouth closed during dinner. She picked t her food, gaze drifting to the front door every few minutes. He wished there was some way he could make her smile again.
His offer to do the dishes or clear the table were refused.
"I have a system to how I do things here and I don't feel like teaching you it tonight. Besides, you should focus on what you're going to do tomorrow. You don't want to stay in your teacher's house forever, do you?"
Tomorrow. How could such a simple word inspire so much terror within him? College wasn't an option, he didn't have the money nor the grades for that. Like fuck he was going into the military. With those two options gone, what was he going to do?
Jorge picked the bedroom closest to the stairs to be his temporary bedroom. It was a nice place which did little to soothe his terrified mind. He watched the moon rise to its zenith through the window above his bed, unable to even close his eyes for a second without stress pushing them back open.
"Maybe Mrs. McNamstock has some nyquil or something I can take," he thought. Jorge opened his door and froze. Down the hall, where the wrecked nursery room was, he heard Mrs. McNamstock crying.
