Chapter Fourteen: Me and Mrs. B?

I still have some unfinished business with Ms. Brodbendt that needs tending to.

On the Walk to the bus stop, I was singing away: "I shot the sheriff, but I did not shoot..."

"What?" Bubbles butted in, and he wanted to know, "You did not shoot what? Ms. Brodbendt's furry old pussycat? You probably should have," he said.

Cute, very cute.

...

After that close encounter of the worst kind with me thinking that I was going to get lucky and hit the jackpot playing poker with Ms. B., it never worked out as I had planned. Did hit something, but it wasn't the jackpot. At least, not the one I'd placed a bet on, nor was it in the way I wanted it to be. But there's always another day, and one can always dream I suppose. Didn't have to wait very long. The following afternoon I was called to the principal's office, again. For the first time in a long time though, I was feeling rather apprehensive about going into Ms. Brodbendt's office. It was like I'd done something really bad, only worse, I couldn't remember ever feeling so bad going in there. Even if it was after getting into some kind of trouble, but on this day, I was so very nervous that even the locks of hair on my head seemed to be sweating. Guess I was a bit ashamed of myself for? for whatever reason. Like, by letting Ms. B down, perhaps? Or, letting myself down in Ms. B's presence, not living up to expectations, not measuring up to the billing? Ms. B's mission on this day, it would seem, was to reassure me. To smooth over the bruised ego for me. She was so sweet and understanding, in the way she spoke to me.

"Don't you go beating up on yourself," she told me, then further said; "You're perfectly okay, nothing is wrong with you, nothing at all. I think it was rather sweet." She winked at me and smiled.

"What do you say? You can come over again this afternoon, and I'll show you how to do it right?" I didn't respond. I just sat there, staring at the boots on my shaking feet on the floor. Then, to the house, we went - Ms. Brodbendt and me.

"Yay?" I stifled a shout, "Ms. Brodbendt and me," I said, "We're taking it all the way home, baby." I was sure that Bubbles heard me. But he never said a word in response.

"Go have a shower." Ms. Brodbendt commanded me as soon as we got home to her house. I was more than a bit self-conscious and resented the way how that came across. Is she saying that I stink? I tucked my nose under my armpits as soon as she turned her back. I couldn't say it was scentless or pleasant. But still, come on, give a guy a break here. Won't you?

However, whenever Ms. Brodbendt says jump, I usually ask, how high? So, I went to the bathroom and got my shower, just like she wanted. Must admit though, I felt a whole lot better afterward. Now it's her turn to get a shower. I sat on the couch and grabbed the remote control for the TV. Turn the big box on and flick through channel after channel, just to kill some time. Trying to pacify the nervous tensions within.

I didn't hear the shower going like it was going the last time. Instead, the bathtub was filling up. I could hear the water running out of the faucet and into the tub. Ms. Brodbendt called out to me from inside the bathroom. "Manley! Come here, Manley." I didn't budge, "Manley!" She called out again. After the third time, I slowly got up and walked to the door. Even more slowly I turned the doorknob and pushed it open. She was in the bathtub, covered up to her neck with mushy white bubbles. I edged my way back out and through the open door, the same way as I had come before.

"Come here," she said in a sort of whiny high-pitched whisper while stretching out her right hand over and across the edge of the bathtub and reeling me in with those calling fingers of hers.

"No," I said, "I don't want to. I don't feel too good."

I pulled the door closed while walking back out. I wasn't sure why, but I did feel (somewhat) restrained from just gabbling up Miss B. like that. It probably was because of the office. Her station in life, her role in my life. "She's the principal," I whispered to myself, "for crying out loud."

I didn't feel quite the same way about doing things to get my fairy godmother's mojo going. Even though they were both similar to each other in many ways; both of them were teachers, roughly the same age, same physical make-up, appearance, and body types, but still. If it was Gaddy's, my fairy godmother's place that I had gone to like that. The TV would still be as cold as icicles since I'd not be turning it on. I'd be busy right off the cuffs, getting the biggest bang for my hard-earned bucks, working the late shift and overtime too, working on my fairy godmother's bus, no, not you. A gig on the brand-new second-hand Volvo, parked over there by us. The only thing that would be needed to get a turn-on after we get inside the house and close the door behind us, would have been me taking out the jackhammer keys and turning it over to Gaddy. Since both of us would have had our other hard and even the soft metallic mechanism and auto body parts already turned on and heated up to a fever pitch. Even before we'd managed to burst in through the half-opened door, like this. But as for Ms. B? It is going to take a lot more out of me, to get used to the idea that I could similarly bang on her door. And to think that I really, really wanted so very much to be doing just that. More than anything in the world at this stage of my life, my teenage boy's life.

She came through the door and stood in the passageway, with nothing but a big bath towel wrapped around her, like, this way. I saw this from the corner of my eye since I wasn't looking directly at her. She came over to me where I was sitting on the couch, took me by the hand, and led me into the bedroom, and into the big queen-sized bed and into...

"What? You mean you want me to tell you every little bit of the gory details, just like that?" She'd made me promise not to tell, you know? Those were the conditions under which we had gotten that far. Suffice it to say, though. Not only did the innocence and inhibitions tumble and fall there that evening, but the oversized, wrap-up-my-sexy-mama bath towel came crashing down to the floor too.

Chapter Fifteen: How Do You Spell Relief Again?

She was almost done with the exams and swatting the studies. She accepted my invitation to go out somewhere else. Somewhere other than the usual little diner across the street where we used to go to eat, she wanted us to go see a movie.

"What are you going to do about your brother; your chauffeur, whenever he gets back here to pick you up, and the rest of your family too when you get back home, and they start quizzing you as to your whereabouts?" I'd asked this because she never seems to go anywhere or do anything without their blessings, and participation too, to some extent.

"I'm a grown woman," she responded, "haven't you noticed?"

"Oh yeah, I notice, and what a relief it is to hear you say that. Speaking of relief, how do you spell relief again?"

"R-E-L-I-E-F? You mean you really didn't know?" "No, that's not it. It's spelled G-R-A-D-U-A-T-I-O-N." Ugh! She gasped and stared at me, wide-mouthed.

"You're so damn silly," she said.

I rested my case there and then and put it to bed.

Although it was not summer yet, and although it was a little bit on the nippy side, the weather that is. She was wearing a dress and heels, she was stunning. I couldn't keep my sneaky peaky eyes off her. Her long, beautiful legs were there begging, just begging for attention, my attention, and care. I'd seen a bit of her lower legs before, last summer I think it was when she wore a pair of shorts for a time, or two, to one of our meetups. But that was just slightly above the knee since she never wore them higher than that like the other girls usually do. We chatted about many things on the drive to the cinema. Or as far as we had managed to get on the route there before the trouble was to get started. She was highly confident that the exam results would be phenomenal. She had already gotten herself many job-offers coming her way from many and varied places. Such as Toronto, Ottawa, Victoria, and Vancouver. Even got at least three from cities in the US. Of course, Montreal's medical institutions were not to be left out of the bidding. Hospitals in Montreal and other health facilities and clinics were bidding too.

Her father, and her mother too, (to a lesser extent,) were trying to get her to choose the Jewish General Hospital right here in Montreal. But she would rather not. She'd said that she wanted to get as far away from Montreal as possible. But I think it's not so much Montreal itself that she'd wanted to get away from but rather, far away from me. Well, maybe. Or away from her overbearing parents. Though not as far away as some of us would like, she's leaning towards Ottawa, or Toronto, in that order. She said she likes those cities, and being as realistic as she is. It's just a two-hour drive back from Ottawa to Montreal for those occasional visits with her family and vice versa, which is bound to happen.

"And we could link up from time to time too" I'd said, "like, whenever you're in town, you and I, you know?"

"I was kind of hoping..."

"Hoping what?"

"Nothing."

"Hoping that I would join you on the move, right?"

"No, never mind me."

"That's exactly what you were about to say, I'll bet my lunch on it."

"You're getting a little bit too full of it, mister. That's not it at all."

"Too full of what?"

"Yourself, too full of your damn self. Like, like, you seem to think that you are God's gift to the world or something."

"I never said that at all, I only challenge you to finish the statement. Finish saying what you were about to say, and you can't, because, you know I'm right. But I can finish it for you; you were hoping that I would come along with you."

"Are you listening to yourself? Really? Talk about pompous."

"That's not being pompous, that's called being on point Missy.

And funny though it may seem, I was thinking the same damned thing too." Pause?

"What same thing are you talking about?"

"You know full well what I'm saying, and the answer is yes. I would love to."

To be continued.