Read Online Catch Me When I Fall by Westerhof Patricia - Free Book Online

box. First World War soldiers—French, judging by the uniforms. Pushing the salt and pepper to the side, he lined up the soldiers in two neat rows. Trenches. Trenches filled with disciplined men, biding time, awaiting orders. He picked up a general. He sympathized with First World War generals. Their reputation as callous men who blithely ordered soldiers to their doom was ridiculous of course. They were, like so many leaders, misunderstood.
    Stan grasped his beer in his other hand and wandered back to the computer. Setting the miniature general on top of the monitor, he reread the comments on the screen. Frustration almost brought tears to his eyes. Eliza’s duty was to teach students to write correctly, not to be their friend. She should be training students for real life and the battles ahead. Breast cancer, for instance. Students needed to learn to master themselves. To fight nobly. To maintain dignity.
    Well, in good time his students would review him with as much warmth as they did Eliza. It would just take maturity and a few years of real life. Maybe after today, he thought, they’ll see their dear Ms. Zylstra differently. Her indecent exposure. Damn, she must feel stupid. Absolutely humiliated.
    He closed the site and shifted his gaze to the little general who stood on the monitor, legs apart, one hand on a set of binoculars on a strap around his neck. The tiny face was hard to read. Neutral. A bit remote. Maybe that was the best a craftsman could do when the cast was that tiny. Or maybe the skilled artist decided that the general had just received bad news that he would have to pass on to his soldiers.
    â€œHow lovely are the feet of them that bring good news.” The phrase shot into Stan’s mind. It was from a song, he thought, or maybe the Bible. He recognized it from the year he attended church with his first girlfriend. And he’d heard it more recently—a day early in September when he had strode into the staff workroom before school. Eliza, her back to him, was laminating a poster of Canadian authors, singing loudly. The tune returned to him now and ricocheted through his head. “How lovely on—the—moun—tains are the feet—of them—” He recalled her yellow high-heeled sandals and her toenails, painted coral with little sunflowers on the big toes. It would be a good physics question, he had thought, to calculate the weight on each of those dainty heels. When she noticed him, she’d smiled and called, “Good morning,” then went back to laminating, humming cheerfully.
    The general’s little plastic eyes bored into Stan and a sense of duty heavy as a stack of unmarked exams settled over him. He and Eliza were on the same side, whether he liked it or not. A good soldier, a good person, had obligations. And he had a message. He finished the rest of the Guinness in a single swallow, scowling at the general.
    His hand, a weary drone, moved toward the mouse. Email would work. Eliza was the type of teacher who would check school email, even on weekends. His fingers, which felt thick and clumsy, not fully connected to his nervous system, moved over the keys. Dear Eliza. He paused. Backspacing, he erased the “Dear,” then continued, To ease your transition back to work on Monday —no point in beating around the bush or pretending he hadn’t seen— I think you might want to read the comments on this site. He typed out the web address.
    Best Regards. Stan Ellis.

God’s Laughter
    KLAAS HAD CLOSETED himself as long as he dared. He flushed the toilet and moved to the sink. New soap, he noticed. The plastic dispenser had a stalk of wheat on the label, not a realistic one—kernels too oval and the beard too long. The label said Serenity. The soap was serene? Would it make the user serene? He squirted some on his hands.
    Alida stirred her tea, the rest of her body rigid, like a machine with one moving part, stirring, stirring.