Free Out of the Blue by Sally Mandel Page A

tiniest hesitation before the reassurance. “You’re a fine teacher, Anna. I have no intention of losing you.”
    Well, there was a non-denial denial if I ever heard one. “I realize that there are drawbacks to having me on the faculty,” I said. “But I hope I make a contribution. I think I’ll know when to quit if I’m no longer effective.” I guess this was probably a lie, but I was desperate.
    He stood up and walked around the desk, holding out a huge paw and aiming his Cheshire cat smile at me. I stood also, taking such pains to appear in perfect control that I lunged at him. That wasn’t spasticity! I wanted to say. Nerves, normal nerves!
    “I’m glad you took some time with Michelle Cross,” he said, ushering me to the door. “I’m sure she’ll benefit by it.” He slipped through ahead of me and slid off down the hall with that odd walk he had, like he was on coasters.
    That was it. There was little sense of relief since I knew I’d just received a serious warning. Furthermore, I realized that I’d left some file folders in the teachers’ lounge—another lapse? I felt myself dragging my feet—incipient foot drop? And I didn’t relish meeting up with anyone on the faculty. I wondered at the wisdom of teaching in a school where I’d been a student for so long. It was too easy to feel relegated back to the ranks of adolescence.
    Only one of my colleagues was in the lounge: Leonard Chubb. He was coiled on the couch with his feet tucked under him, shoes on. It always irritated me when he did that. After all, who knew where those shoes had been?
    Chubb had a pair of cobra eyes, small black irises that peered out from epicanthic hoods. They told me that he knew exactly where I’d been and why. “‘Morning, Anna,” he said. He also licked his lips a lot, so they were always chapped.
    “Don’t ‘’morning’ me, Leonard, you venomous snake. I know exactly what you’ve been up to.” Actually, I just said “‘Morning.”
    “How are you feeling?” He swung his filthy dog-doo-covered feet to the floor.
    “Great. You?” You back-stabbing sly grub. I picked up my notes from the coffee table.
    “I wondered who’d forgotten those,” he said. “I could have dropped them by your homeroom.”
    And then slithered right on down the hall to Reese’s office to express your concern about my forgetfulness.
    But Leonard was a good teacher, especially of poetry. The kids didn’t like him much, but they learned the material.
    One of the files fell out of my hands and slid across the floor. Leonard bolted to scoop it up. As he handed it to me he asked, “You sure you’re feeling all right?” I think he’d convinced himself he was looking out for my best interests, and the school’s. He’d decided that everybody, me included, would benefit by my departure.
    “Never better” I said. On my way out I turned with an afterthought. “Don’t forget the faculty meeting, Leonard. Monday, four o’clock.”
    He blinked his eyes in that slow way, waved, and tucked his feet back under him.

7
    Joe had left a long distance message on the departmental machine and there was another one when I got home, just: Why haven’t you called me back? No whine, no blame. I found his unreadable intonation both maddening and sexy. With me, the simplest “hello” waves a huge flag: I’m happy! I’m mad! I’m tired! The fact was, I hadn’t spoken with him since our “date,” which was a pretty feeble word to describe what had happened in that pool.
    I dialed the number he’d left, something with a 315 area code. “I guess I’ve been trying to figure out what to say to you,” was all I could think up. I heard moonlit pool water lapping at me, and along with it the sudden rush of excitement between my legs. “Damn nation,” I muttered.
    He laughed. “Well, that’s a start.”
    “I should tell you that I don’t ordinarily behave—”
    “Look, Anna, there’s nothing ordinary about any of it. I’m flying in