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Authors: Amy Archer
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started to make dinner. He’d just been there for so long that it was odd not having him there. I was usually the one to cook, but often he’d help too, and I didn’t mind cooking on my own. He’d emerge from his bedroom when it was time to eat, and we’d have dinner together, and afterward would play a board game or he’d head back into his room for more video games.
That was all he did, I realized. He just played games all the time. When I was honest with myself, Matt and I hadn’t even spent that much time together in recent years, but it was still comforting to have him around, to know that he was there with me in the house. That he was mine. That I had a counterpart, someone to count on if I needed him.
He was so different from Devin. I tried to imagine Matt going skydiving, but the thought was laughable. He’d love to skydive, I thought—but only if it were in a video game.
He’s kind of boring , I realized. That’s his only hobby. I’d never thought it before, maybe just because we’d been together for so long and so I hadn’t spent much time analyzing our relationship in a while. It always just was what it was—but in comparison with Devin, he seemed flat.
Not that flat was always a bad thing, though. I reminded myself that that’s why I’d liked him—he was stable. He was predictable. I could count on him.
“So why didn’t you end up working at a skydiving facility?” I asked.
He shrugged. “I finished the training, but I was too nervous I’d hurt someone. It’s different when it’s just you, you know? I knew I was being safe, but it’s still a risk, just like anything. The thought of my mistakes hurting someone else…I couldn’t do it. And then I got offered the marketing job, so I let it go. It’s still a hobby,” he added. “I love it. I go every chance I get.”
By the end of the run, Devin certainly wasn’t back to his original, jovial self that he’d been before discovering Taco was my dog now, we’d settled into a comfortable rapport and he seemed invigorated to at least get to spend time with Taco. He was so different from anyone I’d ever known—he took risks, he was unpredictable, he craved adventure—so different from me. Yet, to my surprise, I discovered that I enjoyed spending time with him despite the confrontation we’d had the day before.
Back in the park where we’d started, we stretched and I put Taco back on his leash.
“Bye, Paco,” Devin said wistfully, patting the dog one last time before we parted ways.
“Taco says bye,” I said, playfully emphasizing my name for the dog. And then Devin flashed me that goofy grin, the one I’d been longing to see return, the one I thought was gone forever once we realized Taco had been his dog. It was a grin that made shivers run up and down my body, that made my insides turn to jelly, as much as I told myself to stop, to be reasonable.
And my good mood lasted all the rest of the day.
The next day, my school’s principal called a staff meeting after work.
“I have some bad news,” Ms. Mayfield told the teachers gathered around the room. “Mr. Jones, the art teacher, is quitting at the end of the semester, and we’ve decided not to replace him.”
Not to— what? I thought, alarmed.
“While I appreciate the value of an art education, we just don’t have the funds right now to hire a new teacher. I do understand that you all use that time for planning, and your students will be going to an extra session of alternating music or gym for one of the weekly slots they’d normally be going to art, but they’ll remain in the classroom for the other.”
The teachers around the table groaned thinking of their disappearing planning periods, but my first thought was of my students. I thought of Angelina, my star pupil, and how much she loved going to art class, how proud she was when she got back to my classroom and showed me her work.
“They have to have art,” I
That was all he did, I realized. He just played games all the time. When I was honest with myself, Matt and I hadn’t even spent that much time together in recent years, but it was still comforting to have him around, to know that he was there with me in the house. That he was mine. That I had a counterpart, someone to count on if I needed him.
He was so different from Devin. I tried to imagine Matt going skydiving, but the thought was laughable. He’d love to skydive, I thought—but only if it were in a video game.
He’s kind of boring , I realized. That’s his only hobby. I’d never thought it before, maybe just because we’d been together for so long and so I hadn’t spent much time analyzing our relationship in a while. It always just was what it was—but in comparison with Devin, he seemed flat.
Not that flat was always a bad thing, though. I reminded myself that that’s why I’d liked him—he was stable. He was predictable. I could count on him.
“So why didn’t you end up working at a skydiving facility?” I asked.
He shrugged. “I finished the training, but I was too nervous I’d hurt someone. It’s different when it’s just you, you know? I knew I was being safe, but it’s still a risk, just like anything. The thought of my mistakes hurting someone else…I couldn’t do it. And then I got offered the marketing job, so I let it go. It’s still a hobby,” he added. “I love it. I go every chance I get.”
By the end of the run, Devin certainly wasn’t back to his original, jovial self that he’d been before discovering Taco was my dog now, we’d settled into a comfortable rapport and he seemed invigorated to at least get to spend time with Taco. He was so different from anyone I’d ever known—he took risks, he was unpredictable, he craved adventure—so different from me. Yet, to my surprise, I discovered that I enjoyed spending time with him despite the confrontation we’d had the day before.
Back in the park where we’d started, we stretched and I put Taco back on his leash.
“Bye, Paco,” Devin said wistfully, patting the dog one last time before we parted ways.
“Taco says bye,” I said, playfully emphasizing my name for the dog. And then Devin flashed me that goofy grin, the one I’d been longing to see return, the one I thought was gone forever once we realized Taco had been his dog. It was a grin that made shivers run up and down my body, that made my insides turn to jelly, as much as I told myself to stop, to be reasonable.
And my good mood lasted all the rest of the day.
The next day, my school’s principal called a staff meeting after work.
“I have some bad news,” Ms. Mayfield told the teachers gathered around the room. “Mr. Jones, the art teacher, is quitting at the end of the semester, and we’ve decided not to replace him.”
Not to— what? I thought, alarmed.
“While I appreciate the value of an art education, we just don’t have the funds right now to hire a new teacher. I do understand that you all use that time for planning, and your students will be going to an extra session of alternating music or gym for one of the weekly slots they’d normally be going to art, but they’ll remain in the classroom for the other.”
The teachers around the table groaned thinking of their disappearing planning periods, but my first thought was of my students. I thought of Angelina, my star pupil, and how much she loved going to art class, how proud she was when she got back to my classroom and showed me her work.
“They have to have art,” I
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