“I’m in a relationship with my student, Cadence. That’s what your dad means.”
“But it was consensual. I was eighteen,” I argued.
“That doesn’t matter,” Mark said. “And you know what? None of it matters. What matters is that I love you.”
It wasn’t enough to placate me, but I’d pretend it was.
“Nothing’s going to happen, Cadence. We’ll be all right,” he said.
“Three weeks!” I cried. “Three weeks and it would have all been over with!”
Mark squeezed me and sighed. “Well, sometimes it just doesn’t work that way.
“Do you wish I’d never stepped foot in your classroom?” I asked.
“I couldn’t imagine my life if you hadn’t stepped foot inside my classroom. Well, yes I could. It would be dull. Uninteresting. Lonely. And loveless.” He kissed the top of my head.
“I’ll kill Gracie,” I said after a time.
“No you won’t.”
“I hate her.”
“She thought she was doing the right thing.”
“Not true. She wanted to hurt me,” I countered.
“Did she?”
“I saw it written all over her face,” I explained.
“Then I guess you can kill her.”
I shot up and looked him in the face. The side of his mouth quirked up.
“People just say stuff like that,” I explained, trying to back track.
“I know,” Mark replied. He sported a full smile now. Like it was a challenge.
“I would do it!” I cried. “If I had the guts.”
He nodded.
“If I didn’t think I’d burn for eternity,” I mumbled.
“Well, I still plan to kill your father, Cadence. And I don’t give a fuck if I burn for eternity.”
My eyes went wide.
“God can punish me however he’d like. I don’t care. Call me crazy. Call me possessive or unstable or whatever. I don’t care. I’ll kill anyone who hurts you.”
I stared at him, mouth hanging open.
“But I love and respect you, Cadence. And if you tell me not to, I won’t.”
“Don’t!” I blurted. “I mean, please don’t kill my father.” I instinctively touched my eye. “He’s my father.”
“He’s a bad one right now,” Mark said. He moved my hand and lightly touched the purpling skin under my eye.
“I know, Mark. But I don’t want you to kill him. Please don’t.”
“I won’t. But if he touches you again, I’ll hurt him badly. And you have to let me do that, Cadence. You have to.”
I nodded. Mark cupped my cheeks and pulled me towards his face. He kissed me. Slowly. Deeply.
“What will we do?” I asked after I broke our kiss.
“Right now we’ll just sit here. That’s all we need to do.”
And so I sat on Mark’s lap late into the morning. We talked about our future, and it didn’t frighten me at all—being separated from my parents. Not knowing how to really take care of myself. How I would eat. Where I would sleep. How I would pay for school. All the things teenagers never think about: insurance, taxes, bills. I didn’t think about any of those things. I thought about Mark saying over and over, “I’ll take care of you.” So I stopped listening for the inevitable knock on the door and just repeated those words in my mind until they sunk in, becoming a part of my brain matter until I had no choice but to believe them. Once I did, I closed my eyes. And slept.
S. Walden used to teach English before making the best decision of her life by becoming a full-time writer. She lives in Georgia with her very supportive husband who prefers physics textbooks over fiction and has a difficult time understanding why her characters must have personality flaws. She is wary of small children, so she has a Westie instead. Her dreams include raising chickens and owning and operating a beachside inn on the Gulf Coast (chickens included). When she's not writing, she's thinking about it.
She loves her fans and loves to hear from them. Email her at [email protected] and follow her blog at http://swaldenauthor.blogspot.com where you can get up-to-date information on her current projects.