About a dozen years ago, I taught a young man named Chad. I kept his actual name because I cherish irony. He was a bright young man, above average intelligence, but small with rounded shoulders and a goofy brace-laden smile. His primary memorable characteristic was that he was just plain silly. He tried too hard with the girls and made them laugh, not with him, at him. I don’t remember him dating a single female, or male for that matter, throughout high school. He came by my room and talked often about some girls he liked, but he ended up going to prom with a group of similarly awkward guys.

He friend-requested me several years back. I gleaned from his posts that he graduated college, but continued to work at the local Restaurant he served at as a teen. Now, at 28, he is some kind of manager. About a three years ago, I saw that he was engaged to a cute little girl, well not too cute, maybe an hb7 and two cookies shy of being a fat girl. They wed in January of 2016. I didn’t think much of it, figuring he might have finally have grown up.

I heard that his wife, Maggie, taught French at another school in my county, but didn’t give it any thought till I got a message from Chad in August telling me to, “look out for my wife; she’s coming over to HBHS to teach with you.”

About 2 weeks after school I dropped by her room to chat. She seemed nice and since we have the same, end-of-the-day, planning period, she started sauntering by MY ROOM almost every day. Before long, she started telling me her life story … and her secrets.

She teared-up when she told me about the miscarriage she had in June.

To lighten the banter, I joked about several things, including how awkward Chad was in school.

She said he hadn’t changed, and then she laughed and said, “you know he was a virgin when met?”

Then the real story trickled forth. She admitted that she “fucked almost every guy I met” in college.

I said, “you little slut.”

She laughed and “I know right.”

Then the inevitable admission: “I had an affair with a 23 year old student teacher (she’s 30) most of the last school year.” I laughed and offered no sign of moral outrage. Emboldened by my attitude, she began to provide details.

I said, “you fucked around while you were trying to get pregnant?”

“Yeah” she said, “but I made him wear a condom or finish in my mouth.”

I almost fainted, but feigned indifference. “You think you’ll ever tell Chad?”

“No, I don’t want to hurt him, but I think he would forgive me anyway.”

I said, smirking, “so you fucked a guy under you … literally?”

“Under, over, behind,” she retorted, “but we don’t talk anymore. I’m trying to do the right thing now, and Chad and I are going to be trying to get pregnant again.”

She came bye more but I began to find a reason to be elsewhere. She was dropping hints, holding me tightly when I side-hugged her and, generally, just being too much.

I do still occasionally pass her, chat for a few moments and then move on.

On December 12th, two days before Christmas break, we were walking, by chance, down the long breezeway between the buildings.

“So,” I asked, “you back to fucking your boy toy?”

“No,” she said, grinning, “I’m trying to be good I told you.”

“You’ll be back,” I replied.

“Prolly,” she said … smiling.