“Mr. G, no phones in class!” Ava called out.
“He’s texting his girlfriend,” Brady said. “You know it when he’s looking at his lap and smiling.”
“Boys and girls, eyes on your pages,” Cole ordered.
“It’s definitely his girlfriend,” Brady spoke up again. “Look, Mr. G is turning red.” Cole cleared his throat and willed his voice not to crack.
“I was looking at something funny on my phone but you’re right, I shouldn’t have let it distract me in class.” He held the device up high and slid it into the side pocket of his lunch bag. “See? I put it away and it won’t even–”
BUUUUUUUUZZZZZZZZZ…
The class laughed as he retrieved the phone and switched it to silent.
“Okay, now it won’t even make a sound. Let’s remember if you don’t finish those sheets before the bell, it’s gonna be homework. Do you really want homework on the long weekend?” A room full of seven-year-olds turned their heads back down to their desks. Cole watched his phone light up repeatedly from within his lunch bag and bit his lip, convinced the analogue clock above the window was actually moving backward.
The last bell finally rang and Cole held on for a few minutes more while the kids put away their work and grabbed their backpacks to go home.
“Okay, Caroline,” he said to the last child there, famous for taking her time. “Because it’s Friday afternoon, I’m going to help you gather your shoes and homework.”
“You can’t wait to look at your phone, can you?” the red-haired, freckled little girl responded without missing a beat. “You’re definitely talking to a lady, Mr. G.” Cole sighed and laughed in spite of himself. Helen Keller would probably notice I was talking to a lady, he thought, shaking his head. “Is she nice?” Caroline asked.
“Very nice.”
“Is she pretty?”
“She’s the prettiest lady I think I’ve ever seen in my life.”
“That’s a long time,” Caroline said, sliding on her rubber boots one by one. “Does she love you?” Cole stopped in the middle of putting Caroline’s running shoes in her carrying bag.
“Hmmm,” he said. “I don’t know.”
“You should probably ask,” Caroline advised, squirming into the straps on her backpack. “You always tell us to ask if we don’t know something important.”
Caroline had taken so long her dad came into the portable, to Cole’s relief. He handed him the child’s shoe bag, waved goodbye, and made a beeline for his phone.
I was unaware I had to pick you up at this point, Maya had texted. I figured all I had to do was show up in red heels. Cole felt himself lift to half mast at recalling that incredible afternoon. Anyway, she wrote, wanna spend part of the day together tomorrow? I have to do some cleaning and groceries, but I’m free in the afternoon.
What if I drop by earlier and go shopping with you? Cole replied.
I dunno, dude, Maya said, I have to go to the Indian store, not the regular supermarket.
Oh, in that case, maybe not, Cole answered, smirking to himself. The white people network frowns upon that, you know.
I deserved that, Maya replied. Is two-thirty okay? I’ll wait outside for you.
***********
Cole pulled into Maya’s driveway the following afternoon, unsure whether she’d be coming out through the garage or the front door. Just as he turned his eyes toward the porch, he saw her and was taken back in time. There she was in the knee-length, light blue cotton sundress she’d worn seven years ago in his portable. It was the same dress, smock waisted with white spaghetti straps.