Here is the final installment of the Fresh Start and Second Chance trilogy. I hope you enjoy.
Chapter One
Teachers and Students
Marco Del Rossi stood in the head of the Language Department's office. He had a huge request and was feeling a little apprehensive.
"What can I do for you, Mr. Del Rossi?" inquired Mrs. White.
"That sounds odd. I'm looking for my father." Marco said with a smile.
"Let me guess, a creative writing class is beneath you…" Mrs. White suggested.
"No, the class is perfect. You admitted to reading my novel so you know that isn't the problem. While I realize my class starts in a little over an hour, is there anyway I could switch to the afternoon class?" Marco just prayed she'd say yes and leave it alone.
"There must be a great reason and I'm sure I'd love to hear it," Mrs. White said gently.
Marco was holding his class roster tightly in his hand, "My husband is in this class."
"Your husband? I wasn't aware you were married." Mrs. White gasped.
Marco nodded, "Yeah, thing is…I haven't seen nor spoken to him in five years."
Mrs. White's hazel eyes showed her compassion for his situation, "If there were anyway I could help with this I would. All I can suggest is to get him to switch classes."
Marco nodded his understanding as he felt his heart plummet to his feet. He knew Dylan wouldn't switch just for spite, so that meant facing Dylan three days a week for the next three months.
Mrs. White placed her hand on his shoulder, "Just don't let that golden heart of yours get in the way of your better judgment."
Marco nodded his thanks. Mrs. White had been his faculty advisor for his masters program, so she knew he'd do his best.
Marco entered his classroom about twenty minutes before class was scheduled to begin. He was lucky in the fact that this was a small class of twenty instead of an auditorium class of two to three hundred.
Marco sat at the desk in the front of the room after scrawling his name across the blackboard behind him. He watched as his students trickled in and took some seats. He counted 19, one was missing. The one he dreaded, feared and anticipated. Class must go on with or without all twenty students.
Marco stood up and gestured for quiet. He planned to start this off the way one particular professor started his out one year.
"Hi, I'm Marco Del Rossi and I'm your student teacher. Please call me Marco. I won't answer to Mr. Del Rossi because that's my father. And rest assured, I'm definitely not my father." The students were looking rather excited over the idea of a student teacher. Marco's voice wavered slightly as the door opened and he watched Dylan walk through, "Don't count me out as a teacher though, I may be tougher on you than a normal professor."
Dylan, shocked to see his husband teaching his class, stood right inside the doorway.
Marco gave his a look that spoke volumes, "Care to join us Mr. Michalchuk or do you plan on spending the day in the doorway?"
Dylan noted the icy tone of Marco's voice, "Sorry." He took a seat near the front of the class.
Marco paced in front of the class, giving out general information. The guidelines, his expectations, the syllabus, schedules, phone numbers and email addresses to contact him, reading material and so much more.
"Okay, first assignment which is due on Wednesday. You know that getting to know you assignment all teachers give on the first day? Yeah, well we're going to put a spin on this. I want you to pick one song that means something to you right now. Something that signifies the way you feel right now. Whether it is a new love, old love, break up, make up, or anything, just find a song you like that speaks to you. Write the lyrics down. I don't care how you get them, just get them. Then at the end of the song, I want you to tell me why you chose that song. Easy enough, right?"
Marco could see the same expressions on his students' faces that he saw when he'd been given the assignment four and a half years earlier. He saw fear, anticipation, confusion and some blank stares. "Okay, now leave. See you on Wednesday. Mr. Michalchuk, a moment of your time please."
Dylan sat back down in his seat when he heard Marco call to him.
Marco sat on the desk in front of him, putting his feet in the seat. "Are you going to be okay with me as your teacher?"
Dylan nodded, "Yeah. It should be okay. Why here?"
"This is where my doctorate program is and it seemed logical." Marco shrugged.
"Okay. I guess."
"Go on, I know you have something better to do than to talk to your teacher."
Dylan reached up and ran his hand down Marco's lower thigh and knee. He looked like he was going to say something but shook his head in defeat. "Umm, yeah, see you Wednesday."
"On time, I suggest."
"Yeah."
Marco watched Dylan walk out the door.
For the next 48 hours until class resumed, neither man could get the other off their minds. Both thinking the same, yet very different, things.
Wednesday came with a jolt to Marco's senses. He'd get to see Dylan again. Which made his heart race and his stomach tie into knots. His feelings were so conflicted that he couldn't explain it.
Marco was going to be early for the class again but Mrs. White waylaid him in the hall.
"Will you be okay with the little problem we discussed Monday?" inquired Mrs. White politely.
"I'm handling the situation. I should be fine though." Marco responded with more confidence than he felt.
Mrs. White studied him for a moment, "Very well. See you at the progress review next week."
Marco nodded, "I must be off, class starts soon."
Mrs. White headed in the opposite direction after bidding Marco goodbye.
Marco entered his class as the last few students were meandering in and sitting down.
The students handed in their papers and Marco began lecturing. He would read them at home later that night.
He strolled the length of the room while lecturing. He felt a pair of ice blue eyes watching his every move. He paused in front of Dylan's desk and addressed the entire class, "I do hope you're taking notes. This will be on your first test, seeing I'm not lecturing for my health." A few students smiled at their insight as others scrambled for pen and paper.
Dylan remained unmoving, staring at Marco. Marco was about to address it but he caught Dylan's eyes stray to a digital recorder on his desk. He caught Marco's gaze again and beamed that billion watt smile that made Marco's breath catch. It was the smile that always left him lightheaded and disoriented. The one that warmed him, heart and soul. Marco shook his head to clear the drowning feeling and continued his lecture.
When the class ended, Marco dropped into his chair, leaned back and closed his eyes.
All of a sudden, he felt strong hands massaging his shoulders. Marco opened his eyes and peered at the person behind him. He chuckled.
"How was your first official lecture?"
Marco shrugged, "Fine, I guess."
"How's it feel to see Dylan again?"
"It hurts like hell and you know it. So, how's Leslie and Tess?" Marco inquired.
"And this, ladies and gentlemen, is called a diversion. Asking a proud papa about his new baby girl is guaranteed to change the topic of discomfort in a heartbeat." James said smiling. He moved to lean a hip against the desk, "They are fine. Les misses you though."
Marco nodded, "I'll stop by tomorrow. I'm itching to see my goddaughter again."
James nodded, "Good, see you tomorrow then. I've got to go mould more young minds."
Marco rolled his eyes, "God help us all."
James laughter drifted back into the classroom as he exited.
Marco picked up and left the room. He walked to the faculty parking lot and saw his car just as he left it. Well, there was one difference, there was a yellow rose on the windshield.
"Yellow rose, a symbol of friendship or apology…no note, how odd," Marco murmured to himself as he plucked it off the windshield.
Marco went inside his house and put the rose in a bud vase. No sense in letting the beautiful thing die. He poured a glass of wine and sat down to read his papers.
He read about death, suicide, new love, old and familiar loves, lost loves, and the love for a child. There were recurring themes that spoke volumes of just who was in his class.
Finally all nineteen papers were read and graded. Leaving only one on his table face down, Dylan's. Marco downed his third glass of wine and poured a fourth. He knew he'd need the extra courage to face this one.
Marco stared at Dylan's paper. He was seriously wondering how he made it to the age of 27 when he was terrified of what a piece of parchment might reveal.
He took a fortifying breath and turned the paper over. It appeared to be a normal paper. A white sheet of paper with black ink jet typed words in a font of Arial, size 12. Standard…ordinary…common…yet with disastrous potential. Would it be about hockey? Them? Fans? New love? Tom? Chris? Charles? Paige? Scott?
Marco groaned and focused in on the paper.
Dylan Michalchuk
Assignment One
You Get Used to Somebody
Tim McGraw
I thought I felt you touch my cheek this morning
But I must'a been dreamin'
And in the middle of the night without a warning
I thought I heard you breathin'
Me and my so called independence
I've got this loneliness that's so relentless
I guess you get used to somebody
Kind of like havin' them around
I guess you get used to the way they make you happy
Bring you up when you're feeling down
I never dreamed when I was letting you go
That I would wake up and miss you this much
I guess you get used to somebody
I guess you get used to bein' loved.
I kinda miss those ramblin' conversations
When we talk about nothin'
The way you always made me laugh at my frustrations
Baby that was somethin'
I should've been careful what I wished for
Cause I've got my freedom and so much more
I guess you get used to somebody
Kind of like havin' them around
I guess you get used to the way they make you happy
Bring you up when you're feeling down
I never dreamed when I was letting you go
That I would wake up and miss you this much
I guess you get used to somebody
I guess you get used to bein' loved
I never dreamed when I was letting you go
That I would wake up and miss you this much
I guess you get used to somebody
I guess you get used to bein' loved
I guess you get used to somebody
I guess you get used to bein' loved.
Marco had tears in his eyes after reading the lyrics but they didn't fall until he read Dylan's meaning of the song.
I miss my one true love. I miss my husband.
It was about Marco. He missed their mindless small talk in bed. He missed everything. The tears started to fall, staining Dylan's paper.
Please review. Tell me if this should continue. Sorry if you're confused but I kind of planned it that way. If you review for it to continue, all will be revealed.