Close now the door. The room you kept for me
Was smaller than myself; take back the key.
Better day’s blaze of agony full face
Than dark sweet atrophy within this place.

Give me the brand, at last to cauterize
My open breast against your never-lies;
That harpy Hope, with griméd griping claw
Will find no further purchase, whine, withdraw.

Open your hand. Receive the gleaming blade.
Teach me no more how honor might be flayed
From truth, from faith, and conscience lulled to sleep -
Let anguish burn. What’s left me I will keep

To shield this weak raw heart against desire
Integument intact, though veined in fire.

Because I seem to think better when I write. And write more when I think better… hmm.

What does this look like to you?
A mark so fine, you barely see.
You have one just like it, too
A twisting vine,
A mark so fine;
Cause I love you with all I am
And you love me because you are
As fearless as a twisting vine,
A mark so fine
But still a scar

Fear plays dumb then eats the soul
Like a vagabond with a fishing pole.
He whistles but he cannot sing,
It’s an awful tune
But very soon
I find that I am whistling, too
And your window is like a star
That I sit beneath like a vagabond
Who wears his fear
Just like a scar

The blade of our outrageous fortune
Like a parade, it cuts a path,
Light shows on our foolish way
And darkness on our aftermath;

If I love you to save myself
And you love me because we are
So fool to think that our parade
Could leave a path
But not a scar

And I love you with all I am
And you love me with what you are:
As pretty as a twisting vine,
A mark so fine
But still a scar…

Nora was not previously aware that pancakes could contain chocolate chips.

Semi-human once more.

Just saying.

It is a truth universally acknowledged generally recognized known to the few stalwarts who have put up with my presence for any length of time that Mrs. E has only two strategies when confronted with potential personal crisis: a) unplug the phone, curl up in a ball on the bathroom floor and lock the door or b) dive headfirst into the deeps and attempt to surf the roiling waves of human strife with honesty (rudeness), integrity (bullheadedness) and wit (sarcasm). Both involve nausea, cramping, vomiting, diarrhea, sweating, chills and a constant heartrate only slightly lower than a hummingbird’s. Neither is fun to watch. Neither works very well.

B never, ever happens until she has been forced out of the bathroom.

Thanks to The Kid, I didn’t even have time for the puking to begin.

Before the next morning’s announcements had droned away into oblivion, he had managed to inform every one of his pep squad patronesses that Skateboy had found one of Mrs. E’s old boyfriends online! He didn’t know, he couldn’t see it!! Skateboy wouldn’t tell him anything; he said he didn’t remember!!! They should all ask her about it right away!!!!

Tumult commenced.

TeacherFace was assumed. I may be limited in many respects, but my TeacherFace is prime.  ( A very perceptive young woman once said, “It looks like you’re trying to decide whether you want to bother killing us or if you’d rather we just dropped dead.”) Avoidance would only feed the beast, but I needed time to think, and bought thirty precious minutes by announcing that we would discuss whatever I chose to discuss on this topic in the last five (damn) ten minutes of class, not before, and that any audible or visible (this means you, Note Girls) speculation before that time would have immediate and dire consequences… and then I started stuffing Shakespeare down their gaping maws as forcefully as ever I could.

And thinking hard and panicky behind a slightly modified TeacherFace.

Hmmm. No details, that was for damn sure. “Dating” was what we did, “breaking up” is what happened… and wasn’t that about the real extent of it? Okay, I was a bit myopic, but I was also twenty years old (looking out at the infants) and sure, he was a bit more upset than I had expected but hey, at least I was always honest and most importantly, it was ten years ago. On the other hand, what about all that stuff I’d heard? On the other hand, who knew how accurate any of that was? On the other hand, what about his mother appearing like Hamlet’s dad that night? On the other hand… enough with the hands. I was already a bit freaked out about the whole “hey, look who you can find online” thing, and avoiding exes was standard practice for reasons that were… Wait a minute, wait a minute. TEN YEARS AGO. What was I thinking? Who was I, Helen of Troy? Eurydice? Salma Hayek? Get over yourself, Mrs E, I mentally commanded. Jeez. Ego, anyone? Anyone? Mrs. E, superstar, who the hell do you think you – drifting! Drifting! Get a grip! Be right back!

When I returned from the bathroom, it was 10:35 and the little angels were ready for blood.

• Yes, I knew the person Skateboy had found online.
• No, I wasn’t telling anyone his name.
• Yes, we dated.
• Next question.
• I was twenty, he was almost thirty.
• It’s different when you’re older, Freshman Girl With Senior “Boyfriend.”
• We dated.
• Dated.
• Ask that one more time and you fail the semester.
• Yes, he apparently has a job which could involve Shakespeare and which Skateboy had found online.
• No, I won’t tell you what it is.
• Sure, I’ll you what he searched on. Try “none of my business.”
• No, I hadn’t e-mailed him.
• No, I saw no reason to.
• No, we just broke up.
• No.
• No.
• No… what? What?

With less than a minute left to go, with the Furies snickering madly just out of audible range, The Goddamned Kid had shot his final bolt with accidentally deadly accuracy.

• Well. Huh. I hadn’t thought about it. Maybe… maybe he could talk to you guys about his job. Or at least answer some of your questions… maybe… it does sound interesting…

Once again, the intoxicating vision of educational relevance dazzled my poor, overwrought young teacher’s brain. The Furies slapped their collective knees and doubled over, giggling. The words of doom escaped me once again.

“I’ll think about it,” I said.

finale to follow