Lauren Takes Leave Gerstenblatt, Julie (classic literature list txt) 📖

A shadow crosses his face, and then he breaks into a hugegrin. “Mrs. Worthing?” he asks. “I thought that was you!”

“Johnny?” Second period. Sixth-grade English. About adecade ago. Fourth row, second seat. B-plus student. “Johnny Dawes?” I’m goingto be sick.

He laughs. “It’s Jon now.”

“Of course it is.” I nod solemnly, not wanting to laugh inhis cute (very cute, maybe even sexy—stop it, Lauren, for God’s sake, he wasyour student!) face. It’s amazing how boys do that, grow up and become men. Menlike Jon, here, with all these muscles peeking out from under the short sleevesof his T-shirt.

I am foul and awful and horrid.

We’re still dancing, though I’ve reined in the gyratingand am now doing a 50’s-style sway. I’m going to look uncoordinated and uncool,but that’s better than being pegged as a cougar. The song is a sexy rap number.Usher’s lyrics “I want to make love in this club / in this club” float past meand I cringe in humiliation.

What would be worse? To stop dancing or to pretend this isnormal? I go for normal. “How’s your mom?” I shout over the noise. How’syour mom?

“She’s fine, thanks.”

Which one of us is going to stop the madness? Unless. Ilook at Jon’s face. He’s giving me the eye. It’s like he’s into me.

Don’t get me wrong: I want to be wanted. Just notby a twenty-one-year-old who could never tell the difference between thehomophones their, there and they’re.

At least he’s legal, I think. Neither one of us really hasanything to hide. It’s just a harmless dance.

Except that I’m married and I used to be his teacher.

“Hey?” Jon asks. “How come you’re not in school?”

Oh, and that.

I jog my alcohol-soaked brain for an answer. “I’m here ona conference, with…some other teachers.” Which is sort of true.

“Cool.” He doesn’t really care. “I go to college inMassachusetts,” he says, “with those guys.” He points to where Jodi is dancingwith two beautiful specimens of fraternity life.

“Oh, that’s my friend with them! I’ve been looking forher!”

“Hey, I think that friend of yours is giving Steve andPatrick her number,” Jon comments.

“No, I’m sure she isn’t,” I counter. Jon shrugs.

So now I’m curious. I turn to see that, indeed, Jodi’sBlackBerry is the center of that little group’s attention. She holds it as theyall talk and dance at the same time. She’s smiling and laughing and typingsomething on her phone.

“Do you mind?” I call out to Jon, gesturing that we shoulddance our way over to them.

“Hi-yyy,” Jodi says, enveloping me in a one-armed hug.

“Hi?” I say. “I have a weird question for you?” I decideto hold off on telling her about Doug, since I’ve decided not to trust what I thinkhe said.

“Okaaay,” she purrs. Her pink floaty top moves backand forth with the music, and her hips sway slowly. “Say hi to Pat and Steve.They go to Harvard.” Johnny Dawes goes to Harvard? This really is a paralleluniverse.

“How nice for them. And Jon,” I add, smiling over at theseboys. “Hey, Jon, come here and meet my friend Jodi.”

“Mrs. Moncrieff?” Jon asks, clearly shocked by hisdouble-whammy of good fortune. Van Halen was right: I’m hot for teacher.

“What the fu—?” Jodi says, stopping herself short fromdropping the whole f-bomb in front of one of her former third graders. “JohnnyDawes?”

“Hi!” he says, smiling in a way that reveals the littleboy underneath all the years.

“It’s Jon now,” I say.

“Nice one, Lauren.” Jodi whispers.

“He’s legal, not jailbait,” I assure her.

“Oh, good. Now I feel much better,” she sayssarcastically.

“Hey, Jon says that you were taking down his friends’phone numbers just before. On your BlackBerry.”

“What?” Again, she looks at me like I’m crazy. “Oh!”She laughs and takes her phone back out of her tiny purse. “The boys fromHarvard here said that they thought I was hot. So, first I told them that theywere correct, naturally. And then I told them that I’m old enough to betheir mother’s much younger sister.”

On the screen of her BlackBerry glows an image of Jodi’sthree daughters, taken last summer on the Cape.

“I was like, this is Jossie, and she’s eight, and Lyndsayis six, and my baby Dylan is already five! Can you believe it? And here theyare skiing, and here they are at the ballet recital…” she says, flippingthrough the pictures.

We look up at Steve’s horrified face. “You mean… you’re…MILFs?”

“And they were my teachers back in Hadley!” Jon adds.

Steve immediately grabs Pat and Jon and heads for the exitas Jodi and I die of laughter.

“Bye, Johnny!” I call. “See you at homecoming!”

I make the definite decision not to tell her or Kat whatDoug said. Why spoil her good time?

Plus, if I heard him correctly and he’s not buying thekids a cat, then what does he know, exactly? That we’re together. So what?Maybe he thinks we’re all hanging out at some hotel in New York City orsomething. Atlantic City, maybe.

I quit deliberating any more and decide to believe that.

We find Tim, Lenny and Kat together by the bar, where weagree to do just one more shot of Jäger. I swallow my pride and tell Lenny thathe looked great dancing with those women.

“One of them called me Justin Timberlike!” Lenny laughs.Then he gets kind of pensive. “Can you and I…take a walk for a minute?”

“Um…sure,” I say. A half hour ago, I was sort of dreadingthis conversation. But the fresh alcohol moving steadily through my bloodstreamcreates a blurry sensibility that makes it all okeydokey.

“So…” he begins. I think he’s going to bring on a breakupspeech, which my ego can’t handle right now.

“I’ve been thinking and I’ve decided that you shouldtotally keep flirting with strangers tonight,” I jump right in. “I mean, unlessyou just want to keep playing the field and fuck that redhead over there,” Isort-of joke.

He balks, confused. “Who?”

I point her out. He shakes his head quickly back andforth.

“That’s Kelly! She’s my half sister’s college roommate. Ijust ran into her by accident and had to give her a big hello. Random, right?”

“So random,” I say, trying to backtrack, but Lenny won’tlet it go that fast.

“You’re disgusting, Worthing. She’s, like, twenty! Onspring break!”

“Oh,” I