Claire stood in front of her class, her grey pencil skirt and off-pink blouse fading into the background, blending in with the beige tones on the classroom walls. The day she bought this outfit there was also a vibrant pink and burgundy single-shoulder flaring dress on display. However, the grey pencil skirt and off-pink blouse were undoubtedly more practical for teaching.
“Miss Taylor, are we done yet?” asked little Bernie. She was the third of her family to pass through Claire’s class. Her brother, Daniel, was first about five years ago. Then Jenny followed about two years ago and now, finally Bernie. It’s hard to believe that she’s been teaching here for almost a decade now. The children changed, but somehow her classroom still looked the same.
“No, Bernie. We still need to talk about metaphorical language use, and then I’ll discuss your homework with you,” Claire replied.
And then I can go home and finish reading Love in the Caribbean, she thought to herself. It arrived in the mail only yesterday from her romance novel subscription service, and it was glorious. Actually, she was entranced from the moment she saw the image of the ocean framed by the figures of the hero and heroine, encased by a ring of vibrant hibiscuses. Claire couldn’t wait to find out what happens next between Carlie, the heroine of the book, and the dashing, oh so handsome, Mr Nealy.
Since it was Friday, she looked forward to it even more. She would go home, put on her comfortable soft pink cotton pyjamas, and curl up in her reading chair. Claire loved that spot in her house – right by the window where the late afternoon sun could warm her. She also loved the view from her chair. It looked out right onto a wooded part of land, with her townhouse’s lawn and flowerbeds snuggled in between. Dark pink and red climbing roses were trellised around her window, and right now, the blooms surrounded the window frame. It made for a perfect display, with honey bees buzzing around and little hummingbirds popping by every now and again.
The only thing that would make it more perfect was if she could actually get the window to open. Claire sighed to herself. She’s been trying to get it repaired for almost two years now. For some reason the handymen just never turned up when they say they will. If they turn up at all. At this point she’s just about given up on the whole thing.
But that is a struggle for another day. This afternoon, after school, she would sit down in her little reading corner and simply enjoy a perfect late Friday afternoon. But not yet. First she had to get through the rest of the school day.
<>
At lunch time, as Claire walked over to the kitchen to warm her leftovers, she heard Robert calling out to her, “Hey, Claire, wait up!”
Claire stopped and looked back as he jogged up to her in his gymwear. Robert joined the school about three years ago as an assistant physical fitness coach. He’s been shining in his role recently, by revamping the whole athletic program, and there was even some speculation that he might replace old Ike when he retires next year.
She took a deep breath and tried to calm the nervous flutter in her heart. He has always had this effect on her, even from the first day.
“Hey, Robert.”
“Heading over to heat your food? Maybe we can have lunch together.”
His brown hair was just slightly longer than it should be, and looked tousled and slightly damp. He must’ve just gotten out of the shower after a coaching session. And his eyes… The blonde Mr Nealy may have the most seductive gaze, but he had got nothing on this guy.
Claire slowly smiled up at him, while focusing on keeping her breath even.
“Sure, let me just get my lunch into the microwave and then I’ll meet you in the lounge?”
“Sounds good – see you!” and Robert jogged off – probably to grab his own lunch from the cafeteria.
Claire stood there for a moment, anticipation sizzling through her being, jumping from nerve to nerve. This just can’t be a coincidence – right when I’m all wrapped up in reading the most wonderful romance. It must be a sign.
Smiling she hugged herself, before scurrying off towards the kitchen. It wouldn’t do to keep Robert waiting!
Robert, however, never showed up in the lounge. Claire waited until she was almost late for class, and then when she hurried over, she passed Robert having lunch outside on the lawn benches with two other female teachers.
Claire recognised them as Kelly and Lilah, who taught Biology and Science respectively. Lilah was new, her first year as a teacher actually and Claire didn’t know that much about her. Kelly had been at the school much longer (although not as long as Claire) and the running joke amongst the staff was that the single dads had to be protected from her. Well, Claire hoped it was limited to the single dads. At least Claire spotted the three of them early enough to duck away and slink by without being noticed.
As she power walked onward to her next class a huge sense of disappointment filled her chest. Claire immediately squashed the feeling, reminding herself yet again that she has no claim on either Robert or his time. Besides, she needed to be ready to project a suitable air of upbeat informativeness for her next class – this was not the time to be glum.
<>
The rest of Claire’s day, simply put, sucked. The once bright sunny day might as well have been a rainy, muddy sludge as far as her emotions were concerned. Keeping an upbeat air about herself became more and more of a struggle as the day progressed, since her thoughts rebelliously kept circling back to what had occurred at lunch time.
Claire analysed every moment from her encounter with Robert over the course of the afternoon classes. Did she misunderstand him? Was she supposed to meet him somewhere else? She was pretty sure he asked her for lunch and they agreed to meet up in the teacher’s lounge. At least, that’s what she thought he said?
If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
“Miss?”
Blinking, Claire returned her focus to her classroom.
“Yes, Louis?” she replied, trying to act like everything was perfectly normal.
“I don’t understand, why is a metaphor different than a simile? They do exactly the same thing, so why don’t we just have one word? Why do we need to know the difference?” Claire calmly noted the underlying belligerence in the question, while she took a breath to order her thoughts. Spelling out why the difference between the two actually mattered, was made all the harder as the vision of Robert sitting with Kelly and Lilah kept popping up in her mind’s eye. Both the women giggled at something Robert said, and Kelly flirtatiously slapped his shoulder. Must’ve been some joke.
Claire sighed and with another concerted effort pushed all of those thoughts to the back of her mind. The school day wasn’t over yet and she had metaphors to mix. Uhm, teach.
<>
Much later, as she finally walked through the door of her townhouse after school, her gaze was immediately drawn to Love in the Caribbean lying on the side table beside the chair in her reading corner. With a smile of anticipation she dropped her handbag on the dining room table, walked over to her reading chair, sat down, and picked up Love in the Caribbean.
Feeling the weight of the relatively thin book in her hands, and running her finger tips over the slightly rough edges of the pages felt good. Something she could focus on to centre herself with. As she allowed the peace to fill her, she looked, really looked at the front cover. The vibrant colours of the hibiscuses almost seemed to glow, as if the blooms were on the verge of sprouting in 3D from the cover. Claire looked up at the window in surprise, as the faint sound of ocean waves crashed in the distance.
But no, there is nothing to be seen through the window, except her regular view of the garden. And yet, somehow she could still almost hear the far-off sounds of the ocean.
Entranced she leaned forward and then frowned as her forehead bumped against the window that she simply could not get to open. Irritation at this apparently unsolvable challenge suffused her. How can it be that a window is so immovably stuck? Isn’t it the very nature of windows that they should open?
With that thought in mind, she unhooked the catch and tugged at the lift, trying to slide the sash up in the frame. Stuck. Yet she still felt the conviction that this window COULD be opened. So she tugged a little harder. Nothing happened, except maybe the trellised climbing roses shook a little bit outside, and the bees buzzed slightly louder. At the edge of her awareness, Claire noticed this minute effect but remained so focused on getting the window open that the importance of these small details passed her by. So she tugged even harder, but still to no avail.
Refusing to concede defeat she got up, braced herself with one foot against the wall, grabbed onto the lift with both hands, and heaved, and heaved. Though the windowsill creaked mightily, and the trellised climbing roses shook violently, and the bees buzzed even louder, still nothing happened.
But Claire wasn’t done. She had no control over which kids asked her what in her class. She had no control over whether the stupid repairmen would ever arrive at an agreed-upon time, and she had absolutely zero control over whether Robert will actually turn up to lunch when and where he says he will. But she will get this window open today. And then, with a primordial scream of effort, she tore the window open.
What she wasn’t prepared for, quite unfortunately, was stopping her own momentum once the jamb broke free. There was a loud crash as her head smashed through the window pane, which brutally cut through the skin on her head, neck and chest with razor-sharp glass shards, and then everything collapsed backward into the room and onto the ground.
As Claire lay there, with blood pumping out of her neck, the sound of the surf became even louder. Strangely, it also felt as if the floor was rocking below her. Drifting, I’m drifting on the ocean waves, she vaguely thought to herself, before her eyes were drawn to the open window.
The sky, the colours were so much clearer now that there were no glass separating them from her vision. The roses were blooming so brightly, with the yellow honey bees buzzing around them. The buzzing was super loud now, slightly louder than the sounds of the ocean in her ears. Some bees even circled into the room, since there wasn’t a barrier to prevent them anymore.
After a while little dark spots started intermingling with the buzzing bees across her vision, and as the dark spots grew, the little trellised roses blossomed into luscious hibiscuses.
<>
And then Claire was in a strange place, standing in a meadow. In the distance she could see pure white light glowing. A footpath led out of it, in her direction, and, looking down she saw that yes, she was indeed standing on that very same path. She could go there. She started taking a step forward, but then, in the distance, the sound of surf became audible.
She froze and turned to the left. Way over on the horizon, she could barely make out the azure blue of an ocean. There was no path, but that’s where she wanted to go. So instead she took a step off of the path to the white light and gingerly placed her foot between the meadow flowers.
“Are you sure?” A kind and loving voice spoke, filling the air all around her. “That place is very different than the one you come from. Wouldn’t you rather return home?”
She paused a moment to consider the question and her life as she lived it started flashing before her eyes in crisp and clear detail.
Surprisingly, there was a memory of being bunched up and floating in a comforting dark place – her mother’s womb. It was a happy time, until it just became too cramped and she really wanted to get out. From the day she was born, lying in the hospital bassinet, to her first day of school. On that day she was initially excited, but halfway through the day she wanted her mom to come back and she cried. The day of her matric farewell party – she didn’t have a date, so her dad dropped her off at the hall and she met up with her girlfriends. Some of whom were also dateless. Completing her education degree at university, starting teaching, all the way up to the day of her death.
Through it all there were happy times, sad times, times of fulfillment and times of seeking. The feeling of seeking stood out stronger than the rest in Claire’s consciousness, and she latched on to it. Did I ever find what I was looking for? Thinking about it, the answer was no. She hasn’t found it yet and that realisation made her decision easy. Her life wasn’t complete yet and she wasn’t ready for the light. She needed to find whatever was missing. At that point the pull of the ocean became even stronger. That was where she needed to go next.
“Can I rather go the ocean?” Claire asked. Making the request scared her. The voice was so powerful, what if she angered it by accident?
But the voice only laughed kindly. “Of course you may go to the ocean. You can always go anywhere you wish here.”
Claire nodded gratefully and started walking towards the sound of the surf and the distant blue of the sea. As she walked the sound of the surf became louder and louder, and with it there was also a growing sense of uncomfortable compression. It felt like she, the essence of her being, was being condensed, tighter and tighter. At some point Claire lost the sense of walking with her legs, but she stayed focused and kept moving closer and closer to the ocean regardless. The last thing she saw was a flash of light and then there was a sense of endlessly falling away.
<><><>