Earning Her MRS

by OyHumbug

Beth Marks always wanted to be a teacher. But then life happened. Suddenly, she's 37, and it has been fifteen years since she graduated with a degree in education, a degree she's never used. But then her marriage falls apart, prompting Beth to finally do what she's always wanted with her life, and she won't let anyone get in her way.

Earning Her M.R.S.
A Brio AU Story

"I have a job interview tomorrow."

Annie and Ruby had been bickering before Beth's quiet, proud words broke through their usual chaos, making both women turn to look at her where she was tucked into the corner of the couch. "That's fantastic, Bee. Congratulations!," Ruby spoke first, reacting warmly. Beth tried to focus on her best friend's positivity, her smile, and ignore the notes of surprise that she could hear in Ruby's voice.

Chiming in, Annie raised her glass, miming a toast. "Yeah, suck it, Dean! You know he thought you wouldn't be able to find anything and would be forced to go crawling back to him. Well, I guess you showed him, huh?!"

"Well, it's just an interview, not an offer," Beth cautioned her sister. Annie's enthusiasm was nice, and she wasn't wrong about Dean's reaction when Beth wouldn't cave under the financial pressure and give him another chance. Her soon-to-be ex-husband had vacillated between belittling her efforts to find employment after nearly fifteen years of being a stay-at-home wife and then mother and practically groveling for her to let him come back home. However, Beth wanted to go into her interview with realistic expectations. She was telling herself that, even if she didn't get this job, it was a start, proof that she could do this on her own. If it wasn't this position, then it would be another. Each experience - even a failed interview - just took her one step closer to gainful employment. With that said, though, she couldn't help but be a little excited, and she let that anticipation show when she admitted, "but I feel good about it. I feel like I really have a shot at this."

"Of course you do," Ruby encouraged her, leaning forward from where she sat across from Beth on the other side of the sofa to grab and squeeze her hand. "So, what's the job?" Before Beth could answer, she guessed, "oh, is it that part-time position at the stationary store that I sent you? I knew you'd be perfect for it!"

Smile falling, Beth let go of Ruby's hand, sinking deeper into the pillows and cushions at her back. "No," she denied, feeling stung. "I didn't even apply at the Paper Porcupine. I need a salary, something with benefits for me and my kids. I need something that offers a retirement package. I might have to work until I'm in my 70s, but if I don't start thinking about that now, I'll never be able to retire. And you guys," Beth stood up and, in her agitation, started pacing the width of her living room. She really wanted to stop by the bar cart and top off her glass of bourbon, but she was limiting herself to one drink that night, and nothing - not even the disappointment that not even her best friend and her little sister believed in her - would cause Beth to sabotage her interview the next day, her future. "Are you forgetting the fact that I'm a teacher?"

"Well, I mean, are you really, sis," Annie questioned doubtfully. "You have as many teaching hours under your belt as I do, and I dropped out of high school."

"Do I need to remind you that I graduated summa cum laude from Wayne State University with a double major in secondary education and English literature!"

"Yeah," Annie acknowledged, shrugging and rolling her eyes. "But that was, like, two decades ago."

"It was fifteen years ago, and I kept up with all of my continuing ed courses! Plus, I'm very involved at the kids' school between the PTA and volunteering in their classrooms."

Annie scoffed. "That's never going to be enough." When Beth went to protest, her sister continued, "look, I love you, and I think you're the bestest best to ever best, but you're going up against people almost half your age who have more recent and relevant experience than you."

Beth could have told her sister that the job she was interviewing for was with one of the lowest rated Detroit Public Schools, that those shiny, new graduates Annie was referring to wouldn't even apply for some of the teaching positions that Beth was willing to take. Even if they were, she had her doubts about how long they would last in such an environment. But that's all Beth knew. Yes, she now lived in the suburbs, and her own children lived in a Blue Ribbon school district, but Beth - and Ruby and Annie, for that matter - attended city schools from kindergarten through twelfth grade. Nearly two decades had passed since then, but her experiences as a student had left their marks. Unlike some fresh-faced twenty-two year old coming straight from the protected, sheltered environment of Ann Arbor, Beth knew exactly what she was getting into if offered the job at Western International.

But Beth didn't say any of that, because she never imagined she would have to convince her family that she was good enough. Instead, she stopped pacing, standing stock still in the middle of her living room while she confessed, "I didn't think this would be my life."

"Honey Bee, I don't think anyone goes into a marriage believing their husband will cheat on them and lose all of their money."

"I'm not talking about Dean," Beth dismissed with a disinterested wave of her hand. "I'm talking about me. My life. My path. I didn't apply for every scholarship I could find, work full-time at a crappy, minimum wage job while taking a full course load, scrimp, and save, and live at home, and take the bus to and from school every day for nothing. I was going to be a teacher." Strengthening her resolve and her voice, Beth corrected, "I am still going to be a teacher."

"We're not saying you can't work in education," Annie told her carefully. "But maybe you should… lower your expectations. Why not apply to be a teacher's aide instead?"

Ignoring the suggestion, Beth started to reminisce. "Did you know that, on my wedding day, Judith came by to see me while I was getting ready so we could have a moment alone together? This was before I realized exactly who my mother-in-law is, so I thought maybe she was there to give me some advice - woman to woman… since our mom… couldn't. But no. Oh, no! Judith wanted to inform me that, after Dean and I got back from our honeymoon, she and Jack would have some houses lined up for us to look at. I thanked her, of course, but I also carefully told her that I thought it was too soon to be buying a house. After all, I didn't know yet where I would be teaching in the fall. She laughed in my face."

Shaking her head to ward off the emotions she could feel building up and catching in her throat, Beth pushed through, so she could finish her story. "And then do you know what she said to me? She said - and I'll never forget her words, 'Dear, girls like you don't go to college because you want a degree or a career; you go to college to get a M.R.S.. My son doesn't want a wife who works, who takes care of other people's children. I think we both know that you never actually planned on getting a job.'"

"Well, I mean, she wasn't wrong," Annie pointed out thoughtfully. "You married Dean, you bought the house, you never got a job."

"I was going to, though," Beth argued, moving over to lean against the back of the couch. She needed something to grip, something on which to squeeze out her frustrations. "Even after what Judith said, I still thought I would be a teacher. I didn't think Dean would mind."

"But he did," Ruby asked, frowning in sympathy.

Beth shrugged her shoulders dramatically. "I don't know. I never found out. We got back from our honeymoon, and suddenly, Annie's sixteen and pregnant, and I don't have time to look for a job."

"Hey," her sister yelled, jumping out of her chair and pointing an accusing finger in Beth's direction. "Don't blame me or my kid for your life not turning out the way you wanted it to!"

"That's not what I'm saying, Annie. I love you, I love Ben, and I don't regret helping you. But after I felt like I finally had the two of you settled, then all of a sudden, I'm pregnant. I had Kenny, and then it was like Dean only had to look at me, and I was pregnant again. And again. And again. With each baby, I promised myself that, as soon as they were in school, I'd go to work. But once they were in school, that also meant they were in activities: soccer, and t-ball, and scouts, and dance, and karate, and school clubs. Plus, there were playdates, and Dean was working more and more hours at the dealership, so more and more of the responsibilities here fell on my shoulders. I look back, and it feels like all I did was blink, and fifteen years of my life went by like that." To emphasize her point, Beth snapped her fingers, the sudden and loud noise making Annie jump.

"So, what are you saying, Bee," Ruby wanted to know. "I get that things didn't turn out the way you thought they would, and I know that what Dean did to you and the children wasn't fair, but how does any of that make you hireable? How does it help you get this job you're interviewing for?"

"No one is going to have wanted it for longer or more than I do."

"Sweetie, if that's the way the world worked, then Stan would already be a cop, I'd have two healthy children, and Annie would be taller."

"Hey!"

Ignoring Annie's complaint, Ruby stood and started gathering her things. "It's great that you got called for this interview. Really. I'm proud of you. But I don't want you to get your hopes up, because it seems like a long shot to me." Reaching out to hold and squeeze Beth's hand, her best friend finished, "and I think you should reconsider that job at the Paper Porcupine. It'd be a good fit for you, and no one's better at correspondence than you are, Bee. Birthday, Christmas, thank you, condolence cards, you always send them before everyone else, and yours are always the nicest."

"Yeah, you're, like, a regular Emily Post," Annie said, believing it to be a compliment and not realizing how disheartening not just the comparison but the whole night had been for Beth.

"You'll let us know how it goes, right," Ruby asked.

Beth just nodded tightly, humming an, "uh huh," noncommittally.

"Break a leg, Sister-Mine," Annie sang out before shutting the front door behind her.

Once she was alone again - the kids with Dean's at his mother's, Beth took a deep breath to recenter. "Right," she tried to encourage herself. "I can do this." After a moment, she changed her mind. "No," Beth corrected, walking around the room to collect the three empty glasses she, Annie, and Ruby had used that evening. Carrying them to the kitchen, Beth stated confidently, "I will do this; I will get this job."

If she wanted to keep her house, feed and clothe her children, guarantee that all of their lives didn't completely fall apart right along with her marriage and family, she kind of had to get this job.

So… no pressure.

!

As a mother of four, Beth was no stranger to multitasking, but the term was starting to take on a whole new meaning for her now that she was a single mother of four, responsible for not only taking care of her children and a household but also trying to fit in and juggle a career, too. And it wasn't even the new school year yet! That meant the kids' afternoon activities were lighter, less demanding, and she still had time to prepare for her first, official teaching job. Beth was both exhilarated and already a little overwhelmed. The first thing on her agenda was learning Spanish.

With visions of a semester abroad, Paris, and patisseries tempting her, Beth had elected to study French in high school, not Spanish. She justified the decision with how relatively close Quebec was to Detroit, but really Beth put very little practical thought into the choice. She tested well enough to skip the foreign language requirement in college. Now, fifteen years later, the extent of her foreign language skills was swearing and counting to ten in French and singing a juvenile song about a rat in an attic, none of which would help her succeed as a high school English teacher in a predominantly Spanish speaking Detroit community.

During her interview, she had been able to tell that her lack of an ability to speak or at least understand Spanish was the one sticking point, preventing her from getting the job. So, she promised to learn. She assured the school board that her library card was up-to-date, and her summer was wide open and ripe for a project… nevermind her vanload of children and pending divorce proceedings. By the time classes started in early September, she would at least be proficient if not fluent in conversational….

A hand on her shoulder pulled Beth out of the moment, away from her cleaning, and completely eradicated any and all thought… right along with her composure. Screaming in fright and jumping away from the touch, Beth whirled around to face whoever had caught her off guard and startled her, her right fist tugging on the front of her shirt, clutching at her heart, like she could will her rapidly beating pulse and elevated, distressed breathing back to normal.

She should have known.

"What the hell, Dean?!"

He didn't apologize. He didn't explain. In fact, he completely ignored her agitation… which, really, was nothing new. "What were you listening to that had you so distracted," her soon-to-be ex-husband asked, gesturing vaguely to the headphones dangling from Beth's ears.

The reminder of the Spanish lessons still playing from her phone made Beth retrieve her cell from the back pocket of her jeans so she could pause the app. Then, once the room was quiet and she could focus, Beth took a look around her house. Nothing seemed out of place. All of the doors and windows were shut… just as they had been before she started dusting. Yet, here was Dean anyway, standing before her with his hands on his hips, demanding a response like she still answered to him. Like she had ever answered to him.

"What are you doing here? How did you even get in here?"

He waved off her concerns. "I used my key."

"I thought you returned those to me?"

"I did," Dean confirmed. "Well, my main set. But I kept the spare… for emergencies."

Folding her arms over her chest, Beth challenged, "does this look like an emergency to you, Dean?" Although her inquiry was rhetorical, Dean had never been too adept at reading her or her tones, so Beth didn't even give him a chance to respond. "Even if it was, I'd call emergency services for help, not you."

"Yeah… but the kids," he said - like that explained and justified everything.

Beth shook her head in frustration but didn't argue with him. It wasn't worth it. She would just make it so that his keys were not enough to get into her house. Changing all of the locks would surely make a statement that even Dean would understand, but it was also an expense that Beth really couldn't afford. Even after she started receiving a paycheck, teachers didn't go into education for the money. So, instead of changing the locks, Beth would just add a chain or a deadbolt to all of her exterior doors. Not only would the supplies be cheaper, but she'd be able to do the work herself.

"Speaking of our children, Dean, where are they?"

"Oh, they're at my Mom's." He said it like the weekends were Judith's part of their temporary custody agreement, not his.

"Then why are you here?"

Dean started shuffling his feet and shoved his hands into the front pockets of his cargo shorts. "Well, Kenny said something about them having to ride the bus this year. If doing everything on your own is getting to be too much for you, Bethie, I'd be happy to move back home. It's not too late to call off the divorce. We could even celebrate it by having a vow renewal ceremony. Janey and Emma would love it. They could get matching dresses, have their hair done, really go all out and make it special for them. And imagine Ken and Danny in little suits, all handsome like their old man!"

Beth just… didn't know where to start with any of that! How Dean could jump from Beth taking advantage of the free transportation provided to her children by their school district to Beth wanting to reunite with her lying, cheating, bankrupting spouse was beyond her. Even if they did get back together because of financial and childrearing pressures, that was no reason to make a mockery of wedding vows by renewing theirs. It also showed just how little Dean knew his children, because Emma was in a phase where she hated dresses, Jane never wanted to match her older sister, Kenny would throw a fit if they tried to make him wear a suit, and Danny just disliked spectacles of any kind. And then, on top of everything else wrong with what Dean had said, there was the money issue. If they couldn't afford to divorce - which Beth was going to make damn sure they could, how would they be able to afford 'going all out' for some joke of a vow renewal ceremony?

She figured it was best, though, to not indulge in Dean's insanity and, instead, just focus on what was really going to happen. "We are getting a divorce, and the kids will be taking the bus to school this fall… unless you want to get up early and drive them there before going into the dealership, because I won't be able to drop them off and commute into the city for work at the same time."

"You got a job? In the city?" By Dean's tone, Beth couldn't tell which aspect - that she was now employed or where she was employed at - surprised him more. Nor did she care. "But… but what about the kids," he sputtered, obviously struggling to wrap his mind around the fact that his attempts to manipulate his way back into their marriage, her home, had failed. Dean had refused to pay her child support and alimony, and his failing business had allowed him to weasel out of it, too. Beth couldn't afford to maintain the house and take care of the kids on what little he was giving her; she couldn't sell and downsize, because their mortgages were underwater, so her only two options were to take Dean back and hope that he could turn the dealership around again or get a job herself.

Really, though, there was no choice to make, for only one of those options, in Beth's opinion, was actually viable. "I actually think this will be good for the kids. It'll help them be more responsible for themselves, maybe even teach them a little accountability." Because Beth certainly didn't want to be raising and unleashing four more Dean Bolands onto the world.

Throwing his hands up in disagreement, Dean argued, "they're just babies, Bethie!"

"Kenny is eleven now. He's in middle school. If I make sure everyone is up and dressed, that lunches are packed and their homework is put in their backpacks, then I think Kenny should be old enough to make sure that he and siblings make it onto the bus in the mornings, and if he's not, then it's time for him to learn."

"And what about after school," Dean dug in his metaphorical heels. "Who's going to be here to get them off of the bus… since, apparently, you're too busy now to pick them up? And who's going to make sure they do their homework, who's going to make them their snack, who's going to take them to… to their activities?"

Rolling her eyes and just done with their conversation, Beth returned to her task while sniping, "well, you could always step up and be more than just a part-time, weekend dad." Even that, considering the fact that Judith was taking care of their children that afternoon, not Dean, was generous.

"And what about the dealership," he wanted to know. "Cars just don't sell themselves, Bethie!"

Except they kind of did. Or, at least, they did a better job of it than Dean himself. Sighing, Beth admitted, "I already made arrangements for them to attend the after-school program. They'll do their homework there, and I'll still be home in time to take them wherever they need to go."

"Oh, well that's just great," Dean sneered at her. "While you're off gallivanting around Detroit, our children are going to be raised by strangers!"

"First of all, I won't be gallivanting as you so hysterically put it; I'll be teaching, so our schedules will align. I'll just need help around my commute. As for the after school program, their teachers run it, Dean. But if that's not good enough for you," she feigned, holding her hands up and out in resignation, "then, by all means, feel free to make different arrangements yourself… just as long as it is actually you parenting our kids and not your mother."

He laughed mirthlessly, started pacing back and forth along the house's main, central hall. "Now, you have a problem with my mom?! At least she never pawned me off on anyone else! My mom never missed a drop off or a pick up, and she drove me everywhere I needed to go."

"And that's great, Dean, really - that your mom was content with that life and that your dad was able to make it financially feasible for your family. But guess what? I'm not Judith. I want to do more with my life than be a glorified taxi driver for our children, and you've nearly bankrupted the dealership you inherited from your father. So, now, I not only needed a job, but I also wanted one, and I got it. You can adapt… just like the kids will have to adapt… and accept these changes, or you can whine about them, but as long as we're not married anymore - and we never will be again - and I have primary custody of our children, then you really do not get a say." Reaching for the headphones that were dangling around her neck, Beth reinserted them into her ears while waving pointedly towards the doors. "Now, if you would be so kind as to show yourself out. After all, you already let yourself in uninvited. The least you could do is leave when I ask you to go."

Although he walked backwards towards the door, Dean warned, "this isn't over, Bethie!"

"It's been over, Deansie, since I was halfway through a wax when my credit card was declined, because you bedazzled your barely legal mistress' vagina… for all I know, so you could actually find it."

Without waiting for a response, Beth pulled her cell phone back out of her pocket, opened her Rosetta Stone app, and resumed her lesson. With her back turned towards Dean, she didn't actually see him leave, but she felt the reverberations of the front door slamming behind him. As soon as he was gone, Beth put her cleaning supplies down and grabbed her purse and keys. Dusting could wait; preventing Dean from letting himself into her house whenever he wanted could not.

!

Beth was either going to throw up or pee her pants. Or, god, there was another option: she could do both at the same time. As a mother, she was pretty well prepared for any eventuality, and she heartily believed in always carrying with her a change of clothes. The last thing she wanted to do on her very first day was walk around with a coffee stain on the very center of her otherwise pretty, cardigan sweater. She taught high school students, and her ample sized chest was already going to garner way more attention than Beth was comfortable with, so nothing good could come from drawing even more. But no one wanted to spend eight hours with vomit breath or start their professional career going commando, because she might have a second, emergency outfit in the back of her van, but she was an adult woman. What Beth didn't have was a spare pair of delicates.

That had obviously been an oversight on her part, especially considering the fact that she had given birth four times.

However, her current predicament had nothing to do with incontinence but, instead, a nervous… everything. Beth hadn't been that nauseous since her last pregnancy, and she hadn't allowed herself coffee that morning to prevent this very scenario from happening. She was jittery enough without the caffeine, and her usual dark roast would do her discomposed stomach no favors either.

Frankly, the fact that she was so wired and anxious was ridiculous! When Beth had gone in for her interview, she had been poised and calm. Granted, in part, she was still running off her determination to prove Ruby and Annie wrong at that point. But, still, she already had the job! She'd told her children about the changes that would be taking place in their lives without batting a lash. She dealt with Dean… and his mother's… judgment with ease, not a worry in sight. But this - actually, finally doing with her life what she had always wanted? That left Beth a sweaty, hyperventilating mess.

A brisk knock on the driver's side window made her jump and shriek and then glare once she, never once letting go of her death grip on her steering wheel, pivoted her head just enough to face who had startled her and interrupted her not-so-mild freak out. "You lost or somethin'," the stranger asked, his voice elevated to combat the sounds of her still running van, air conditioning, and the glass barrier between them. She didn't even have a chance to respond - to voice her denial, her irritation, her dismay - before he was curtly informing her, "'cause you can't park here, Sweetheart." The term of endearment, used so mockingly, so condescendingly, immediately made Beth bristle, her back straightening indignantly. "This is school property."

Snapping her door handle open so fiercely that she was lucky to not break it, Beth practically shoved her way out of her van, making the infuriating stranger scramble backwards to avoid getting smacked in the face. But Beth didn't stop there. Marching forwards so that they were standing toe-to-toe - though even with her heels, he was still nearly a head taller than her, she practically simpered, "thank you for that enlightening piece of information, but even if I didn't work here, I think the multitude of signs posted throughout this lot would have clued me in to the fact that I am indeed parked at a school."

Folding his arms over his chest, he eyed her thoroughly, running his gaze up and down her form, though the appraisal was clinical, dispassionate. Beth, on the other hand, couldn't help but notice how handsome the stranger was, though his personality was quickly allaying any physical attraction she might have otherwise felt. "Let me guess," he nodded, jerking his chin towards her in acknowledgment. "You the new English teacher?"

"Beth Marks," she introduced herself, realizing that the ass in front of her must be one of her new coworkers and holding out a hand for him to shake. Although she would still use her married name in connection with her children, professionally she wanted to be free of Dean and the emotional and mental baggage that came with being a Boland. When he didn't return the polite gesture, her tone dipped a few degrees, but yet she still prompted, "and you are...?"

"... too old to deal with the fallout when you inevitably run away scared and the shit hits the fan. So, why don't you do us all, but particularly the students, a favor and just quit now instead of in a month or two, stickin' 'em with subs for the rest of the year 'cause the administration can't fill your position permanently again until the summer."

He started to walk away, rounding Beth and heading towards the staff entrance at the back of the school, but she wasn't about to let him have the last word. Rushing to grab her things from the passenger seat of her van, Beth then dogged his steps, her purse, lunch box, tote, and attaché weighing her down and her jackass coworker not even having the common decency to hold the door open for her. "Not that I need to defend myself to you… or anyone else, for that matter, but for your information, I'm not running anywhere, scared or otherwise. I grew up in a community just like this one, and I attended Detroit City Schools from kindergarten until college. There is absolutely nothing that the students here can do or say that I'm not fully prepared for, and the same can be said for the other teachers, including and especially you, as well!"

Scoffing as he unlocked his classroom door - the plaque beside it reading Mr. Contreras, her new coworker complained under his breath, "mujer ingenua."

Returning the dig with one of her own, Beth complained, "hombre terco," obviously catching him off guard that she not only understood him but could respond in kind in Spanish. However, Beth still felt like he walked away from their little confrontation as the winner, because it was in that moment that she realized her classroom was right next to his.

!

Beth was convinced that the school's building had been constructed around the textbooks, they were that old. While of course she was being facetious, it wasn't much of an exaggeration. Not only was the material outdated, but it failed to accurately reflect its audience's diversity. But Beth taught English, so luckily her curriculum wasn't dependent upon the textbooks. She could incorporate more novels into her lesson plans, utilize the library, even look into some open educational resources.

At least, she should have been able to do those things. The novels, too, were just as out of touch. Plus, what few they had were in poor condition, and there certainly weren't enough for an entire class. Even if Beth staggered her units - each period reading and working on a different title so as not to double up on the need for materials, she still couldn't provide each student with a copy of their own. As for the library, it was mainly a few runs of irrelevant encyclopedias and more outdated computers that didn't work than did.

Without even having to ask, Beth knew that there was no budget for new materials. She would either have to work with what she had… which wasn't really an option, in her opinion, or get creative - not just with sourcing books for her students but also in designing her lessons - both the content of and how she went about presenting them. Already, she had raided her own shelves at home, bringing in anything and everything that her students might be able to use, and she was checking with other schools to see if they had surplus or culled titles that she could preferably take but, if necessary, purchase at a very reduced rate. She offered her students extra credit if they went to any branch of the Detroit Public Library and signed up for their library card. She had some other ideas as well, but in the meantime, Beth had decided that they would tackle poetry first.

"Pack up. I'm strayed. Enough. Oh, say say say; oh, say say say; oh say say say; oh say say say; oh say say say.

"Wait!" Beth purposefully spoke softly and relatively quickly, wanting her words to seem unaffected… until they weren't. By the time she yelled 'wait,' her students were confused yet captivated, glued to everything she was saying. Beth saw a few of them jump, and then she sped up her words once more, emphasizing a different part of the repeated refrain to change her inflection and the line's meaning. "They don't love you like I love you. Wait. They don't love you like I love you. Maps."

Momentarily, Beth paused, wanting to give the titular word its due weight. Then she returned to her shifting stress. "Wait. They don't love you like I love you."

At the start of the next verse, she once more relaxed her voice, her stance, her tone and spoke dispassionately, the tempo of her recitation increasing with every line. "Made off. Don't stray. My kind's your kind. I'll stay the same. Pack up. Don't stray. Oh, say say say; oh, say say say." And then she took a breath, but, this time, instead of yelling when she started on the chorus, she whispered, "wait."

As she finished, she constantly changed her urgency and intensity, building up the tension only to let it swallow and nearly drown her. Sometimes, she moved where in the lines she would prioritize the weight of the words, and sometimes she could change where she placed and what type of punctuation she used, altering the rhythm. She essentially just kept saying the same thing over and over again, but Beth wanted to show her students how words could have so many different meanings depending upon how and when you used them. "They don't love you like I love you. Wait? They don't love you like I love you. Maps. Wait, they don't love you like I love you. Wait! They don't love you like I love you. Maps, wait. They don't love you like I love you. Wait, they don't... love you like I... love you? Wait. They don't love you... like I love you. Maps! Wait! They... don't love you like I love you. Wait, they don't love... you?... like I love you. Maps? Wait. They don't love you like I love... you?"

As soon as Beth finished, she snapped her body and voice back to its usual posture and pitch, wanting to jarr her students with the juxtaposition between her performance and their reality. While she provided instructions, she carefully observed the teenagers' faces, looking for recognition. She didn't notice any, but then again, Beth was still learning all of her students' names; she certainly didn't know each and every one of them personally yet. "You should all see a pile of scrap paper on your desk. Take one, and I want you to write down three things: whether what I just recited was a poem or a song, the date you think it was written, and then take a guess as to the author and/or the songwriter."

As the slips of paper were passed back towards her at the front of the room, Beth clocked a wide range of expressions: from intrigue to exhausted numbness and everything in between. Once everything was turned into her, she simply left them in their haphazard pile and moved towards the iPad from home that she'd started bringing into work. With the song already queued up, all Beth had to do was access the device and let "Maps," ring out into the classroom.

While the students probably didn't realize why Beth was playing music in their English class, it didn't take long for them to recognize the lyrics she had just performed via spoken word. The song was three minutes and thirty-nine seconds, plenty of time for her to both take in the teens' reactions and browse through the guesses on their scrap pieces of paper. Some of the responses were actually quite amusing, even a little….

"I thought we talked about this, yeah," a booming voice strode into the room like he owned it, like she wasn't in the middle of a lesson.

"Excuse me, what do you think you're doing?" Beth's tone might have been polite, but her exasperation could be clearly and easily recognized.

"I heard the music," her neighbor and math teaching nemesis explained while, at the same time, Beth paused the song.

"So, you thought you'd just barge in here… and do what exactly?"

He strolled deeper into the classroom, finding an unoccupied desk and sitting, not in it, but on it, feet resting on the chair. "Take care of the disruption for you… if you couldn't handle it yourself."

"I didn't ask for your help, nor do I need it." Despite the sweet smile on her face, Beth was anything but accommodating. "After all, I handled you already, didn't I?"

A few of the students catcalled and jeered, while those who didn't laughed. Some of them even whistled, calling out, "damn, Coach! She got you!"

So, apparently he was a coach, too. Of course he was! "Not like that," Beth was quick to deny. Before the situation could get any further out of her control, she gestured impatiently towards the door. "Shouldn't you be getting back to your own class now, Mr. Contreras?"

He leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees and resting his chin on his propped hands. "Free period."

Beth wanted to argue with him; she wanted to protest, but his interruption had already cost her several minutes of class time, and the fifty-five minute periods already went by fast enough. So, ignoring their uninvited and unwelcome classroom guest, Beth returned to her lesson. "Music as poetry. We'll look at how songs use literary devices just as poems do and how those devices enhance the lyrics. You'll perform music as spoken word, or you can take a poem and set it to music." Unless Beth wanted to confiscate a few hundred cell phones per week, she had to accept them as a part of her classroom. If the students were going to have them out, then Beth was determined to use them in support of her lessons rather than allowing them to become a distraction. "As long as you can justify your artistic choices with writing techniques, you may use whatever song or poem you want, and my teenage nephew is looking forward to you introducing me to some new music."

That earned her a few snickers of laughter. Before Beth could move on and introduce the first literary device though - she planned to define it and then open it up for discussion, asking for examples but providing her own if no one volunteered any, Mr. Contreras was interrupting again, this time wanting to know, "so, what's it mean?" Beth turned towards the students, gesturing for them to field the query, but her coworker didn't back down. "Nah, not them. You. Out of all of the songs out there, you picked that one. I wanna know why. What's it mean to you?"

"It's the ending of a relationship. One person wants to leave - is already gone, has moved on, and the other wants them to stay, doesn't understand why they're breaking up or how they ever could have gotten to that place."

"It's a real interesting choice, Ms. Marks." In underscoring her honorific, he made it clear that he believed the song to have personal meaning for her. Beth could have told him that song dated back to her final year of college and that she had loved it ever since, no matter what her relationship status. She considered informing him that, while Karon O wanted her lover to stay, Beth had kicked her husband out, and she wasn't ever taking him back, but contemplating why she cared what he thought of her and her life was even more frustrating than the man himself.

And he was absolutely maddening!

Not only did it feel like he was judging her professionally - like it was his opinion of her qualifications and skills as a teacher that mattered rather than the administration and school board which hired her - and finding her lacking, but now he seemed to have an opinion about her personal life, too. She might have been the English teacher, but it was Mr. Contreras who read her like an open book. Meanwhile, Beth still didn't even know his first name.

The bell rang, making her jump. It was only then that Beth realized that, for several moments, she had just been staring at her coworker, her students witnessing the entire, humiliating exchange. She flushed from the roots of her hair down to the modest neckline of her knee length dress. He waited until the last student left before getting to his feet. With a tip of his head, he acknowledged her, "Elizabeth," and then he was gone.

All Beth could think about was that she had never told him her full name.

!

"God, he's just so insufferable!"

It was a Friday night, the kids were with Dean, and Beth was taking a few hours for herself before returning to her never-ending list of chores and responsibilities. She had grading to do (she always had grading to do), and there were some final details to nail down for next week's lesson plans. Beth had five days worth of laundry to catch up on, she hadn't even started raking her leaves yet, and she really wanted to vacuum out the inside of her van. It amazed her how she drove the kids half as much, thanks to them now riding the bus in the mornings, yet the car seemed messier than ever. And then there was meal prep and getting as much of her cooking done while she was off and the kids weren't constantly underfoot. Plus, Kenny and Danny both had soccer games on Saturday afternoon, but of course they were at different locations but similar times. Her life was hectic, and crazy, and nonstop, and Beth loved it like that; she truly did. But it was also nice to just… unwind.

So, that's exactly what she was going to do. Annie and Ruby were over, the latter bringing dinner, so that was one less thing Beth had to worry about. They would eat, have a drink… or a few in Beth's case, and they would catch up. They still saw each other every weekend, and Beth filled her commute to and from school with phone calls to her best friend and sister, but it wasn't the same as before when she was always available for Annie to drop by for a cup of coffee and a bitch session before her shift at Fine & Frugal or for quick lunch dates with Ruby while her best friend was on break from the diner. There was Housewives to watch later, Ruby needed to update them on the latest news concerning Sara's health, Annie always had drama with Greg over Ben, and Beth?

Well, Beth had her math teaching nemesis.

After her announcement, she noticed Ruby and Annie share a knowing glance over the tops of their wine glasses, but she ignored them. They would say what they wanted to say whenever they were ready to say it, and until then, Beth had too much venting to do to worry about when her best friend and her sister started wordlessly communicating with each other about her. "He practically comes into my classroom every day now at this point! I see how busy I am, and I always wring out every last second of productivity during my free periods, so it just… it galls me that he, apparently, has so very little to do. I'm half tempted to talk to the principal about having someone check on his work and observe him while he's teaching! I don't care how long he's been there."

"He probably just doesn't have as many after school commitments as you do," Ruby attempted to allay her frustrations. But all Beth could hear was someone - someone who was supposed to be in her corner, always - defending Mr. Contreras.

"He's the coach of something - probably football, seeing as how all of the students like him so much." Even Beth could hear the petulant note in her voice, but she tried to ignore it. "So, no, I don't think it's that."

"He probably lives local, doesn't have your commute," Annie suggested.

And that did make sense. He seemed particularly invested in the school. It wasn't just work for him; it was personal. "Yeah, maybe," Beth allowed.

"What about a family? Is he married? Does he have kids?" It would be nice if Beth could answer Ruby's questions. Not that she cared one way or another about his marital status or if he was a dad. No, she didn't care at all. But those things would tell her so much more about him and maybe help her start to figure out how to approach him and their little battle of wills. "I know that we've established that he's a coach, but teaching a bunch of smelly, hormonal teenagers to play a sport for a few hours a week is a far cry from raising children."

Beth was already shaking her head in denial even before Ruby finished her thought. "No idea," she said succinctly, standing up from the couch and moving towards the bar cart to pour herself another finger or two of bourbon. "None. He's a sphinx! A tattooed, - and like that's appropriate, wearing t-shirts that reveal your ink to the students! - tight lipped, - I mean, would it kill him to express something besides his disapproval of me and my teaching style? - arrogant sphinx!"

Annie was laughing at her - drinking at the same time to try and cover her amusement - but still laughing. If she ended up snorting and getting wine on Beth's couch…. "Maybe he's been assigned as, like, your mentor or something," Ruby said thoughtfully. "That's a thing, right?" Beth nodded. At the same time, though, she went to protest, but Ruby wouldn't let her talk. "Between the fact that he's a man, a math teacher, and an athlete, the two of you obviously approach things very differently. I bet he just doesn't realize that no one told you that he's supposed to be observing you."

After taking a much appreciated sip of her drink, Beth dryly stated, "Mrs. Harrison, the head of the English department, is my mentor. We meet once a week to review my lesson plans, discuss any questions I might have about the job, and she sits in on my classes once or twice a month, depending upon her own teaching and grading demands."

"Oh," Ruby sighed in resignation.

"He's just… he's an ass!" There was simply no other explanation. "He made it clear on my very first day that he didn't like me, that he doesn't want me there at his school, that I don't belong. If I'm not going to be fired for incompetence, then he'll harass me and make teaching there so miserable for me that I quit."

Worried, Ruby wanted to know, "is it really that bad?"

"No," Beth waved off her best friend's concern, taking another sip of her bourbon. "It's fine. I can handle it. Him." The booze was helping to dull her irritation with Mr. Contreras, but she wasn't putting on a front of strength either. "He's constantly smug, flashing around this knowing, conceited smile and undermining my authority in my classroom. Sometimes, it's embarrassing. But, mostly, he's just an annoyance."

"It kind of sounds like the teacher equivalent of playground hair pulling, Honey Bee."

Beth ignored the insinuation. Because, yes, he was an attractive man, and Beth, as a single, heterosexual, yet completely uninterested woman had noticed, objectively, that his face and body weren't unpleasing to look at, but the thought that he might… what? Like her? Well, it was laughable. And that was before Beth factored in his personality… if one could even consider nothing but arrogant rudeness a personality. His attitude made the idea that he was interested in her not just laughable but ludicrous.

Snorting into her crystal tumbler, Beth asked, "did I tell you what happened this week?" Putting down her drink, she stood. Beth used the excuse of being a good hostess and refilling Annie and Ruby's wine glasses for them, but, really, she just needed to move around while she talked, suddenly feeling jumpy and like her skin was two sizes too small for her body. While she poured and ranted, she could hear Annie tapping away on her phone, but she ignored the warning in the back of her mind that her sister had been uninvolved in the conversation for too long. Nothing good ever came from Annie after an extended period of silence.

"So, after we finish our current unit on modern adaptations of the classics, I'm opening it up to my students for suggestions on what we read next. I think it is more important for me to instill, if not a love, than at least an appreciation for reading in them than it is for them to be able to say that they read The Canterbury Tales and The Scarlet Letter… and by reading those books, I mean their SparkNotes, of course. And, besides, standardized testing doesn't measure what you read; it just cares that you're capable of critical reading, and that can be practiced on anything… within reason."

Taking a breath and dialing back her justification - after all, Ruby and Annie had heard it all from Beth before, and they agreed with her, Beth refocused on what she was really telling them: the latest disaster with Mr. Contreras. At the same time, she darted into the kitchen to grab some snacks, raising her voice so she could still be heard. "Anyway, so we're having a discussion about potential books to read in class, and I'm telling my students not to limit their ideas to just what they're used to being assigned in school, that I'm open to all genres, different formats. I meant sci-fi or graphic novels, but of course there was this smartass. There always is. And now that I think about it, I'm pretty sure he's a football player, so he's one of his students. Well, he raises his hand, I call on him, and then he has the gall to say, 'what about Playboy, Ms. Marks?'"

Grinning to herself in recollection, Beth continued to relate, "you would have been impressed by how I handled it. I remained calm, smiled, and graciously said… like I was actually considering his suggestion, 'you know, I've heard good things about its articles, but we're only reading fiction in this class. If you're interested in print media, you should consider signing up for my journalism elective in the spring.'" Reentering the living room with bowls of chips, popcorn, and pretzels, Beth placed them down on the coffee table before resuming her seat on the sofa. "Now, I thought that was a pretty good comeback, but do you think I could even crack a nod of approval from that man? No, of course not! He just sat there - on top of the desk as always, staring at me with those dark, piercing eyes of his narrowed, mouth pursed in, oh, I don't know," Beth tossed up her arms in bitterness and discouragement, "distaste, reproach, contempt, hell maybe he's constipated. Take your pick. Whatever it was, though, it was mortifying!"

"Yeah. We know," Annie said without sympathy. "Because you already told us when you called on your way home from work that afternoon. And then you told me again when Ben and I came over for dinner the next night."

"Yeah, and you told me again when I stopped by yesterday to pick up those craft supplies for Sara's history project."

"Okay, fine," Beth groused. And, yeah, maybe she was pouting a little, but Ruby and Annie didn't seem to understand just how awful Mr. Contreras was. "I get it. You're tired of hearing about it, and I need to let it ..."

Cutting Beth off, Annie emitted a high pitched squeak that was more befitting some creature from the animal kingdom than it was a thirty-one year old mom. She then jumped out of her seat and dashed towards Ruby, the two of them buried in Annie's cell phone until Ruby whistled, exclaiming, "damn, Bee! Now, I see what's going on here."

Beth started to push herself up and out of the plush cushions, but Annie's next words made her fall back down in surprise. "I found your boy."

If she wasn't so taken aback, Beth might have argued with calling Mr. Contreras her anything… well, besides the bane of her existence. "What? How?" Without considering the consequences of her next words, she admitted, "he's not on social media. I checked."

"Yeah, but he doesn't exist in a void. He might not have Insta himself, but there are people in his life who do," Annie pointed out.

Surging to her feet, Beth demanded to know, "like who?!"

"Like his students and players, parents, coworkers, friends," Annie stated like it was obvious. And maybe it was. But not to Beth. Plus, she was suddenly thinking about Ruby's earlier questions about his family and wondering, if they existed - and they had to, right?, then did they post about him, too, and if so, who were they - brother, sister, cousin, girlfriend, wife, nephew, niece, a child of his own - and what did they say about him?

Instead of asking any of that, though, Beth questioned, "how did you even find him? I only know his last name, so that's all I've told you."

"I'm basically, like, a license short of being an internet P.I.," Annie bragged.

Rolling her eyes, Ruby contradicted, "it's called tagging, Bee. You spend all day, everyday with teenagers. How are you still so bad at this stuff?"

It was a fair question, especially considering the fact that Beth, in an effort to meet her students half way, encouraged them to think creatively on how they explicated and thematically explored the novels they read, allowing them to use apps to generate social media mockups from characters' perspectives as an alternative to writing a formal paper. Striding across the room, she stole the phone away. Annie tried to fight her, but Beth had a good six inches on her sister, so she easily took the cell from her. As she scrolled, she realized, "he's the basketball and baseball coach as well?!"

Oh so not helpfully, Annie informed her, "he boxes, too." Then, as if that wasn't bad enough, her sister said, "now that I've seen him for myself, trust me, I completely understand why you're crushing so hard on him."

"I am not!," Beth denied vehemently, practically shoving the phone back into Annie's hands.

"It makes sense, Honey Bee," Ruby tried to sooth her. "After everything that Dean put you through, along comes this fine as hell man who is paying all of this attention to you."

"Exactly!" Pausing in her pacing, Beth pointed at Ruby in agreement. "He pays attention to me. He torments me. I just want him to leave me alone!"

"I mean, do you really," her best friend challenged. "Because every time I talk to you, it's 'Mr. Contreras did this'; 'Mr. Contreras said that'."

"Yeah, you're practically obsessed with the man," Annie chimed in.

Beth stopped in her tracks, turned to face her family, and folded her arms over her chest defensively. "I'm sorry if my wanting to talk - and, yes, even complain sometimes - to my sister and best friend about my day, about my job, about my coworkers has been a burden on you. I thought that's what family did for each other, but I guess I was wrong. It won't happen again."

"Geez, Beth, don't be so sensitive. That's not what we meant."

Annie's words did little to reassure or calm Beth. "No, what you meant was that I have the same maturity as my students, crushing on a man who has absolutely no respect for me simply because he's a pretty face. Sometimes," Beth emphasized, speaking slowly, "an adversary is just an adversary. I might work in a high school, but it's been a long time since I was a teenager… if I ever even truly was one," the way they grew up and the responsibilities foisted onto Beth at such a young age preventing her from really experiencing her youth.

Standing with a groan, Ruby said, "you're right. Even if you didn't have so many other things to worry about, you'd never be into a guy like that. He's certainly not your type."

Ruby was agreeing with her… in a way, so why did her best friend's comments irk Beth so much? Swallowing past her hurt and pique, Beth reached for the snacks and led the way into the family room. "We should start watching Housewives now unless the two of you plan on sleeping over tonight."

It only took a few minutes of watching inane bickering on screen for the three of them to put aside and forget any tension that had surfaced between them earlier, the evening returning to its even keel and allowing Beth to relax and unwind as planned. Long after Annie and Ruby had left, though, and Beth was alone once again, she found herself reaching for her phone. Now that Annie had shown her what she was looking for, it only took Beth a few seconds to pull up the Instagram posts she sought. That's how Beth found herself in bed, exhausted but unable to go to sleep or turn off her brain, looking at pictures of Rio.

Because that was his name. Rio. Rio Contreras.

!

No one signed up to make anything for her bake sale.

Beth wasn't asking for much - just a dozen cookies or a pan of brownies. The sweets didn't even need to be from scratch, just homemade. But not a single one of her coworkers - Beth's fellow teachers, the support staff, the administration - could even be bothered to pick up a discounted pack of yesterday's grocery store cupcakes. If nothing else, she thought the other members of the English department would participate in a fundraiser that was meant to supplement not just Beth's classroom but all of the classrooms' book collections. No one even had the decency to offer her an excuse for why they couldn't help out or donate.

But she wasn't deterred. For fifteen years, Beth was a homemaker, a stay at home mom. During that time, she baked for Boland Motors' monthly birthday celebrations, school parties, and PTA events. Beth was always in charge of the dessert table for any family celebration, and she single handedly made all the favors for Ruby's wedding while also fulfilling her maid of honor duties. In fact, her baked goods were so popular that she had been asked on multiple occasions to make things for other school moms and Dean's employees.

So, Beth baked. And she baked, and she baked, and she baked. Then she filled up her van, and, on a Saturday, she drove to the high school where she worked, and she set up a table outside in the crisp, damp, late October morning. Beth had cookies, blondies, and brownies. She had cupcakes and mini cheesecakes. She had hand pies, muffins, donuts, even fancier offerings like cream puffs, macarons, and truffles. She brought urns of coffee, hot chocolate, and jugs of cider with her, too. For the past week, Beth had barely slept, working in her kitchen until she'd find herself dropping off to sleep while trying to decorate a sugar cookie or incapable of even remembering how many teaspoons were in a tablespoon.

The only thing Beth didn't have was any customers.

And it wasn't like she hadn't advertised either. Not only were there posters and signs hanging up all over the school, but Beth had hung up flyers in every local business with a bulletin board. Just as she used her own money to buy her baking supplies, she paid for an ad to go in the area shopper. For the last week, information about the bake sale had been included during morning announcements, and Beth even convinced the office secretary to send an email blast out to all of the parents.

"So, business is boomin', I see." The very last voice coming from the very last person she wanted to see in that moment hassled her as Rio slid into the empty chair next to Beth. At the same time, he reached out a hand and snagged a snowball, plopping the entire thing in his mouth in one go.

"Those are plated by the dozen for a reason," Beth pointed out, cross. "You can't just eat one. Who's going to buy that batch now?"

Licking the powdered sugar off of his lips - and did he really have to do that so… excessively?, Rio praised, "damn, Ma. You can bake!"

"No," she scoffed sarcastically. "All of these desserts just magically made themselves. Of course I can bake," Beth exclaimed, earning herself a rusty chuckle. "I'm a mother of four and a former president of the PTA." Before he could comment about that… and she was sure he would, Beth sniped, "and paying customers are to stand on the other side of the table."

"Yeah, 'cause we wouldn't wanna confuse everyone waitin' in line to taste your wares." Beth debated smacking his fingers when he grabbed a dark chocolate crinkle meltaway. If he was going to act like one of her children, then she'd treat him like a child. Only… then Rio was moaning while he took a bite of and chewed the cookie she had made, and Beth found herself unable to tear her gaze away from his mouth, let alone capable of moving. "'Sides, I'm here to volunteer my services. I was gonna offer to handle the money for you, but that doesn't seem necessary."

"I'm perfectly capable of making change, you know. Not only have I always managed the household expenses, but this isn't exactly my first bake sale."

With wide, laughing eyes, he teased her, "yeah, no shit, Elizabeth. You sure you shouldn't be the home-ec teacher instead?"

"Why, because I'm such an incompetent English teacher?" Beth could hear the bitterness in her voice, and she hated for Rio to hear how much his poor opinion of her mattered to her, but the emotion couldn't be helped.

"You believe I sit in on your class every day 'cause I think you're a lousy teacher? Nah," Rio denied, slouching further down in his seat and angling his body towards hers. Their knees bumped together when he shook his head in denial. "You a boss bitch in that classroom, and some of the stuff you have the students doin' is dope as shit."

Well. Beth squirmed under his praise, and she felt a proud flush warm her cheeks as the thrill of his admiration rushed through her. Not knowing how to accept the compliments, however, Beth instead nodded towards the table of baked goods spread out before them. "Try the macarons," she told him. At his curious glance, she explained, "they're earl gray." So. She might have noticed that he drank tea rather than coffee like Beth herself and the rest of their colleagues, and she thought he might like the delicate, meringue-based confection. It was her way of extending the olive branch back to Rio.

Shockingly, he did as she suggested. While he ate the French treat, he said, "look, no one around this hood is gonna buy what you're sellin' - here specifically or so to speak, until you show an interest in the community." Before she could respond, Rio stated, "and I'm gonna need you to wrap all these up for me," he snagged another macaron. "For them, I'll actually pay, too."

"I'll add it to your tab," Beth remarked dryly, eyeing the other plates missing a cookie. It's not like she was actually going to charge him, anyway. Even if Rio bought a few dozen macarons off of her, that wasn't going to fund even one new title for her class, not when she needed twenty copies. Besides, he actually showed up. It didn't matter to Beth if he came to the bake sale to tease her and tell her everything she was doing wrong, because it was more than anyone else was willing to do. He cared, and knowing that was worth far more than the cost of a batch of macarons.

"And this bake sale isn't about me," Beth defended. While she spoke, Rio nodded along in agreement with her. "It's about my students. They deserve books that aren't falling apart, that are relevant to their lives and that they might actually enjoy. No, I don't want to teach Moby Dick or The Jungle, but I'm fully capable of doing so. I just don't think the kids will get nearly as much out of such outdated material as they would, say, The Hate You Give or The House on Mango Street. That's why I'm doing this!"

"I get it. I do. But I also think that, after these last couple of months, I know you, Mami. The same cannot be said for the people you're askin' to spend their hard earned money - money that's scarce enough around here already - to fund changes they need to see for themselves first."

Tossing her arms up in bafflement, Beth asked, "and how am I supposed to do that if no one will even give me a chance?" Without giving him the opportunity to respond, she asked, "do you know how many parents I had come to my classroom during open house? Two. Two parents! I have 128 students this semester."

Jumping to his feet, Rio turned to face her, leaning back against the table as he said, "it ain't fair, and no one said it was gonna be easy, but what in life worth havin' is, Elizabeth?"

Tipping her head back to better look at him, she asked, "have any suggestions for me?"

"Think of it like one of those dumb Sadie Hawkins dances all you white folks love so much. You're gonna have to do the hintin' and the askin'."

Rolling her eyes at him, Beth wanted to know, "what does that even mean?"

"It means get involved. Attend school functions outside of just what's required of you. Volunteer to run a club or coach a sport. Show this community that you care about its kids outside of the classroom, too, and then they'll start to care about what you're doin' inside of it. Now," Rio segued, rubbing his hands together. If he was cold, then Beth wanted to tell him that maybe he should try wearing more than just a light jacket and beanie to ward off the elements, but she refrained. It finally felt like they were equals - maybe even becoming friends. The last thing she needed to do was mother him. "Let's get all this packed up, yeah?"

"Oh, I'm not taking all of this home," Beth protested heatedly. "I'll give my children diabetes, and then my ex can take me back to court and claim that I'm an unfit mother." And that wasn't even taking into consideration Kenny's latest and concerning reaction to the divorce: binge eating.

Smiling in amusement, Rio told her, "you and your babies are safe, Mama. My family owns a little bodega a few blocks over. I thought this," he gestured towards the empty parking lot, "might happen, so I talked to my Moms, and she said she'd take what you didn't sell. I don't think she's expectin' this, but she'll unload what she can, donate the rest, and any profits made will go towards buyin' your students their new books."

Flabbergasted and unbelievably touched, Beth didn't know what to say. Swallowing her emotions and smiling through her happy, grateful tears, she decided to go the humor route. "So, you're saying that I'm going to get to meet your Mom?"

"And probably my baby sister, too. When she heard about your bake sale, Letti - who never comes around on Saturdays - suddenly thought she'd keep our Mom company while she works the morning shift at the store."

As they worked together to repack all of Beth's baked goods into her tupperware containers, she couldn't help but feel a thrill at what Rio's words implied. His sister not only knew about her, but she was curious enough about Beth to change up her routine. "And your Dad?"

"He died when I was in high school. Liver cancer. He was a hard worker - started the business from nothing when he and my Mom moved here from Mexico, and he loved his family, but he loved the bottle just as much. Maybe more."

"Oh," Beth paused in her work, reaching out to take one of Rio's hands in her own, squeezing it sympathetically. "I'm so sorry."

He shrugged, not to dismiss her concern but to show that he wasn't still weighed down by the loss. "It is what it is, Mami."

"My little sister and I lost our Mom young, too - Annie was still just a kid, and I was in college. After our Dad took off, Mom was always sick with something, but I've always felt like it was the depression that actually killed her… if one can die of sadness." Shaking away her sudden melancholy, Beth changed the topic. "So, what made you become a math teacher instead of taking over the family business?"

"I've always been good with numbers."

"I'm surprised you didn't become an account, then."

"I dabble," Rio admitted. "Started doin' Mom's books after my Dad died, picked up some other local businesses' when I was puttin' myself through school. And I'm pretty sure I'm the neighborhood's free version of H&R Block." As he kept talking, Rio started to load her van. "But I guess the idea of becomin' a teacher myself was inspired by old Mr. Felix. He was an institution 'round here for decades - taught science, specifically chemistry and physics. Man, I hated his class, but I respected the hell outta Mr. Felix. After my Dad died, I started gettin' into some trouble - nothing major, just… hangin' with the wrong crowd and what naturally comes from that. My grades slipped; I quit sports. Mr. Felix didn't lecture me or offer empty platitudes. He just told me to get my ass here an hour early one day, handed me a pair of boxing gloves, and then allowed me to beat the shit out of the old heavy bag that's still hangin' up in the equipment room. That day, he gave me a healthy way to process my anger and a plan for my future… even if it still took me a few more years to figure that second one out."

More to herself than to him, though Rio certainly heard her, Beth murmured, "so, that's how you got into boxing."

He screwed up his face in pleasant surprise. "You knew I boxed?"

If he could confess his sister's interest in a roundabout way, so, too, could Beth. "I'm pretty sure my sister, Annie, is stalking you on Instagram."

"But I ain't on social media."

"You might not be posting yourself, but you're on it," Beth informed him. At his concerned expression, she reassured, "don't worry, if it was anything bad, I'd tell you."

With her car packed up once again, each of them took an urn and carried it into the school to dump. "So, what you're sayin' is that you've been checkin' me out, too, Elizabeth?"

"Please," Beth scoffed playfully, laughing. "I'm certainly not 'heartin' on your grams at three a.m.' or anything like that."

"I have no idea what that means."

"I know," she said smugly, enjoying the pleasure of finally getting one up on Rio. Even Annie had been impressed with Beth when she used that line on her. It was from one of the songs introduced to Beth by her students during their poetry unit.

After emptying and rinsing the urns, Beth and Rio made their way back outside towards her van, Rio startling her when he just climbed into the passenger seat without any fuss. Of course, he'd have to ride with her, Beth realized belatedly. He had walked to the school, and she had no idea where his family's bodega was. Not that she couldn't figure it out or find it on her own, but seeing as how Rio had made the arrangements for his Mom to sell the leftover baked goods for her, she thought it best if he made introductions before Beth unloaded a minivan's worth of tupperware containers on a stranger.

"So, whatchu doin' after this," he wanted to know. "Turn right out of the parking lot," he then instructed.

Beth did as she was told, driving slowly not only because of the speed limit but also because she had a car full of baked goods. "You mean after I unload, set up, and offer to stay and help your Mother, because it's the least I can do after she agreed to do this for me."

"She's doin' this for me, not you. There's no debt."

"It's not about owing her," Beth argued, turning left when Rio indicated she should. "It's about being grateful and doing what's right."

"A'ight fine," he relented, obviously not too upset at the idea of her sticking around the bodega that afternoon. "What about after that, though?"

Beth laughed, admitting, "I'm pretty sure there isn't a clean bowl or spoon in my kitchen, and my entire downstairs is covered in a cloud of powdered sugar. I need to find my house again, get ready for the upcoming week, and sleep… but not necessarily in that order."

"Do you have anyone to help you with all of that," Rio wanted to know.

Considering his question for a moment, Beth replied thoughtfully, "Annie might be willing to come over and lick some dishes clean for me. Oh, who am I kidding," she added teasingly, "she'd probably lick the counter, too."

She could see the bodega just beyond the light where they were sitting at a red, and there was a parking spot open out front, so they'd be able to easily unload before Beth moved her van to clear the spot for customers. "What about all those babies of yours?"

"They're at their father's on the weekend. Even if they weren't, while they all have their chores, and Emma and Danny, at least, would probably offer to help, they'd be about as effective as my sister. It's just easier to do it on my own."

With his fingers on the door handle, Rio eyed her intentionally. "Yeah, I have a feelin' that's how you approach most things in life. But the thing is, around here, Ma, includin' at that school? We do things as a community. It takes a village… and all those other cheesy ass cliches. Just… keep that in mind, yeah?"

After that morning spent with Rio and what he had done for her by asking his family to help in her efforts to raise money for her class, it would be quite difficult for Beth to ever forget it.

!

Opening her front door to the returning, stampeding herd of her children… and a sullen Dean - he still tried to let himself into the house, but the deadbolts and chains she had installed impeded his attempts to still act like her home was his, like nothing had changed, Beth took a deep breath, bracing herself for the upcoming conversation she wanted to have with her ex-husband. But first, "alright, everybody upstairs to drop off your bags in your rooms, and then it's immediately back down here for homework, dinner, and then bathtime."

It would have been a huge help to Beth if Dean would tackle weekend homework while he had the kids, but he refused, claiming that he had so little time with them that he didn't want to waste any of it with accelerated reader, multiplication facts, or spelling words. As for Beth? Well, she had learned to pick her battles. Plus, at least if she handled homework - even if rushed on Sunday nights, she could guarantee that it was done and done right.

"Do you have a minute," Beth asked, looking up at Dean. She could immediately see him calculating how to turn that minute into more. "There's something I need to talk with you about."

Dean moved to step around her, to walk deeper into the house, but Beth slid over to block his path, folding her arms over her chest to show him that she had no intentions of moving their discussion past the front door. Dean sighed, his shoulders slumping. "What is it now, Bethie?"

"I'd like to take the kids to a football game at my school this upcoming Friday night. It's round one of districts. They'll be able to see where I work, meet some of my students and coworkers. I think it's important that I show support, that I get to know the community… and they me… outside of the high school. Well, my children are a big part of me - the biggest, so they should be involved, too."

"Our children," Dean stressed, frowning. "And since when do you like football?"

"It's not about the game itself but about having school pride and showing my school spirit."

"And you need to take away my time with the kids in order to do that," he challenged her.

"You'll only lose a few hours with them, Dean." Beth tried not to sound too impatient, but he was making it difficult. Had he always been so... petulant? "We go to the game, and then we leave right afterwards. I'll even drop them off at your Mom's. You won't have to pick them up."

"I mean, it's not a very good neighborhood, Bethie," he pointed out, wincing and rubbing the back of his neck. "Would the kids even be safe there?"

Beth rolled her eyes. "It's Southeast Detroit, Dean, not Eight Mile."

He scoffed. "Like there's that much of a difference!"

Recently, Beth had been thinking a lot about moving closer to work. The kids were still young enough that changing schools wouldn't be that hard on them, and she'd save so much time if she didn't have to commute back and forth every day from the suburbs into the city. More importantly, though, Beth thought it would be good for all of them to get away from their current neighborhood. She wanted to live someplace where she could build a community for herself, a support system that went beyond Annie and Ruby, no matter how wonderful they were and how much she loved them. Plus, she was starting to see aspects of her children that she didn't particularly like: a sense of entitlement, an intolerance for things, and people, and places that they didn't understand or know. Some of that was Dean's influence, but some of it was also their town's.

Plus, it would be nice to get out from underneath the burden of the house Dean had tripled mortgaged. With her salary and the child support the state garnished on her behalf from whatever wages Dean paid himself, Beth was just barely scraping by, but if something went wrong, if something broke, she'd have no way to pay for repairs, let alone buy a replacement if it came to that. If Dean didn't want to lose his shirt and take the credit hit, then he could move back into the house, while Beth and the kids moved elsewhere. Normally, she didn't like to dodge her responsibilities, and letting the house go would be just that… except Beth didn't create those responsibilities; she was just dealing with them, unfairly so in her opinion. Let Dean own his own mess for once.

However, her ex-husband's reaction to Beth wanting to take their kids to a high school football game in the city told her just how he would respond if she broached the topic of actually moving there instead. Beth wasn't ready to let the idea go entirely, but she would have to work her way up to it… or wait for Dean to inevitably do something - start slacking on his parenting responsibilities, make another poor investment decision and lose the dealership - that would give Beth leverage, so she could take him back to family court and renegotiate the terms of their settlement, including the house and who could make the decision as to where the kids would live. Plus, mentioning letting the bank take the house and moving the kids to Southeast Detroit wouldn't help her convince Dean to let her have the children Friday night.

"There's a huge difference, and you know it. I'm not even going to entertain the ridiculousness of that statement by justifying how safe they'll be." When Dean opened his mouth to argue with her further, Beth kept talking. "What I will do, however, is offer you a trade: you give me Friday night, and I'll let you take the kids trick-or-treating this Wednesday."

Dean loved trick-or-treating. He'd raid the kids' candy all night, wear a cheesy mask and try to jump scare young children… like the overgrown man-child he himself was, and he would reenact the David S. Pumpkins skits over, and over, and over again, finding himself just as funny the tenth time as he did the first. Beth knew this, but she had still insisted that the kids stay on their usual schedule. Yes, Halloween was a holiday, but it also fell on a school night. Plus, she wanted to be able to keep an eye on Kenny and his candy intake. Dean, on the other hand, thought Kenny was fine. He claimed that Kenny was just being a kid and blamed 'that nerd of a principal who wouldn't know what was cool or funny if he sat on it… like a whoopie cushion. Get it, Bethie?' Beth would just need to have a talk with Kenny before he went out trick-or-treating with his siblings and father and hope for the best. Because if there was one way to get Dean to cave on his stance about the kids attending a football game with her at Western International, it was dangling Halloween in front of him.

"Are you serious," he asked, all signs of his former sulking and concern disappearing. "Because you said that…."

"I know what I said, Dean," she interrupted him, not wanting to rehash a prior conversation, especially when they had yet to resolve this one. "But it's called compromising. I'm trying to work with you here."

"Yeah, fine, whatever," he agreed readily... if not graciously. "You can have the kids Friday night. And if it gets too late - say the game goes into overtime or there's traffic on the way home, don't worry about dropping them off at my Mom's. They can just stay here, and I'll get them Saturday afternoon."

He went from complaining that she was taking his time with the children from him to practically giving her half of his weekend with them. It would have been nice to think that it was just Dean's gratitude towards getting Halloween talking when he made that offer, though she knew better. Fighting her on the football game was, instead, Dean's continued objection to her teaching, to her self-sufficiency and newfound independence, to her absolute unwillingness to take him back; and passing on his time with the kids would, in all likelihood, become the trend, not an anomaly. He would lose interest in them… just like he lost interest in her, their marriage, and his relationship with the truth.

"That won't be necessary, Dean."

"Oh. Well. Okay." Beth stepped by him to open the front door, signalling that it was time for him to leave. Not only had she gotten what she wanted from him, but the kids had ignored her directions, not a single one of them returning downstairs as instructed. "But if you change your mind…."

"I won't." He walked outside, and the only thing that prevented Beth from slamming the door in her ex-husband's face was an ingrained sense of politeness. "Thank you. And we'll see you on Wednesday night."

She did, however, resoundly snap the locks into place, making sure that Dean could hear that his presence in her home was no longer welcome… in any way.

!

Beth was pretty sure every single resident within the school district was at the game that night. The place was packed. And that wasn't even counting the away team's fans. Beth wasn't nervous. Nothing about being at the school that evening made her feel anxious, but she was a little worried about keeping track of her young children in the crush. Usually, when they attended such events, they knew and were known by everyone in attendance. But there were so many new faces, so many things to distract the kids, and Beth only had two hands.

With Emma on one side of her and Jane on the other - Danny and Kenny flanking the girls, respectively, Beth eyed the stands for an open spot for them to sit. She was debating between aligning the five of them all in a row or trying to stack the kids - two beside her and two in front of her - when someone was suddenly calling out her name and waving to capture her attention. "Beth! Beth, up here!" As she and the kids started to climb up the bleachers, Rio's sister told her, "we saved you seats."

"Rio mentioned that you might attend the game tonight," his mother, Maria Elena, picked up the conversation where her daughter left off, "and I thought it might be helpful for you to have two extra pairs of eyes on your babies."

Smiling gratefully at the two women she had just met the weekend before, Beth started making introductions. With each child's name she shared, she placed her hands on their shoulders or ran her fingers through their hair. "Kenny, Danny, Emma, Jane, these are my friends, Mrs. and Miss Contreras."

"Please don't make your kids call me that," Leticia pleaded with Beth. "Just Letti is fine with me. If that's not formal enough for you, then they can call me Nurse Letti like all of my patients."

Rio's sister was a nurse practitioner who specialized in pediatrics. Emma tugged on the bottom of Beth's sweater. She and the kids didn't have any Western International Cowboys gear, but Beth had made sure to dress them all in the school colors: maroon and white. "Is that why she's wearing doctor pajamas," her older daughter wanted to know.

Letti laughed, reaching into a tote to pull out not just one school shirt but several. "Don't worry, I came prepared. I still have my lucky sweatshirt from when I went here, and I wear it for every game. But my big brother came prepared, too. He found me earlier to give me these." She started handing out tops to all of Beth's kids. There were Cowboys jerseys for the boys and child size cheerleading shells for the girls. "And this," Letti announced, making sure that she displayed both the front and the back of the last shirt she held up. Unlike the kids', it was obviously not new, and it had Contreras spelled out across the shoulders, "is for you," Letti finished, handing the jersey, Rio's jersey, over to Beth.

After she helped the kids put their new gear on over top of their layered, warm shirts, Beth put her own on as well, the jersey fitting easily over her sweater. Although Rio was tall and lean - and probably had been even more so as a teenager in high school, the uniform was meant to be worn with a full set of shoulder pads, making it roomy enough even for Beth's chest. Even minutes later - after everyone was finally settled, and the kids were being entertained by Rio's mother as she provided them with the inside scoop: what the best snacks were at the concession stand and what songs the marching band would play during halftime, teaching them the words to the school's fight song, Beth could still feel her cheeks burning bright with modesty and delight.

She liked wearing Rio's jersey, she liked everyone seeing her in his clothes, but most of all, she liked the fact that he not only wanted her to have it but that he had also thought about her kids as well.

"Oh, I have something for you, too," Beth announced, reaching for her purse. Removing the book and handing it to Letti, she explained, "I've always enjoyed it when characters have my name. Granted, because my name is so common, it happens quite often, and that takes away some of the specialness, but I still like it. After all, I named my girls after classic book characters. Anyway," she gestured towards the paperback. "I remembered this Letty after I met you last weekend. She spells it differently - with a y instead of an i, but she's a fantastic character. The book is actually three novellas in one, and they made a television show based on them."

Beth recognized that she was talking too much, but she was suddenly self-conscious about bringing a woman she had only met once a book to read. Reaching to take the novel back, she apologized, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have just assumed that you would want some random woman's reading suggestions. I can sometimes forget that not everyone loves reading as much as I do."

But Letti wouldn't let her take it back. "Rio said you were passionate."

"About books," Beth finished for her. "And about teaching."

"Actually, I think his exact words were 'Elizabeth's as fiery as that copper hair of hers."

"He did not!" Letti just flashed her a well pleased grin. "Either way, please do not feel like you need to humor my unsolicited book recommendations."

"Don't worry," she assured her. "I like reading almost as much as I liked those chewy gingerbread bars with the cream cheese frosting that you made."

"Oh, those are super simple. I'll get the recipe for you."

Letti laughed. "Beth, much to my mother's chagrin and fear that I'll never be able to attract a man, get him to marry me, and give her grandbabies, I don't bake. You'll just have to keep coming around and making them for me."

She smiled warmly, nodding, for Beth liked the idea of spending more time with the whole Contreras family.

The game started soon afterwards, pausing their conversation, because Letti and Maria Elena both took their sports seriously. Beth got the impression that, even if Rio wasn't the head coach, his sister and mother would still watch every down. Part way through the first quarter, Letti started predicting what plays Rio would call when the Cowboys were on offense, impressing Kenny with how often she was right and entertaining Danny who kept track of her hits and misses. The girls took turns sitting on Beth's lap so that they could see the field better - Emma's eyes rarely straying from the cheerleaders, while Jane was fascinated by the mascot. Beth, on the other hand, as much as she tried to focus on the game, on finding her students amongst the players, the band, and the spectators, kept finding her own gaze constantly drawn back to a certain coach.

There was no logical explanation as to why, amongst a sea of maroon and white, Beth could so easily and repeatedly find Rio. While not short by any means, he wasn't the tallest man on the field either. And he was always on the move, too - shifting up and down the field as his offense drove and his defense tried to dig in their heels and prevent the other team from scoring. Peripherally, Beth was aware that the score was close, that the lead kept changing, but her knowledge came more from following Rio than it did from following the action.

At halftime, Beth and the kids ventured out of the stands for the first time, Letti coming with them to help, while Maria Elena saved their seats. After using the restrooms - the lines long as everyone waited until there was a break in the action to step away from the field, they had just enough time to buy snacks. Beth was disappointed in the selection, particularly because she saw so much potential in how the menu could play off of the Cowboys theme. But her disappointment also planted a seed of an idea inside of her brain, the community's passion for its high school sports nourishing the thought and making it grow.

On the way back to their seats, Beth was stopped several times by students. Some of them introduced her to their parents, while others complimented her on how cute the kids were. There was even one student who praised Beth to her children, telling them that their mom was her favorite teacher. Just as they were about to climb back up to their seats, one of the cheerleaders - a girl from Beth's third period class - ran over to them, offering to let Emma and Jane join them for their first cheer when the team ran back out onto the field. Jane declined, asking the teenager if she knew The Cowboy instead, but Emma was elated, and Beth was touched. That was all it took for her to realize that Rio had been right, but so was she: she and kids belonged there now, not back in the suburbs where they still lived.

If possible, the second half went by even faster than the first. Eventually, Western International was able to pull ahead and build a lead, securing the win and advancing to the next round. In the mayhem that ensued, Beth found herself wanting to stay until the very last light was turned off, but she still had to not only drive home but first drive the kids to Judith's and drop them off. Despite Dean offering to let them stay with her that night, Beth was going to make him adhere to their custody arrangement. Maria Elena and Letti understood, promising to save them all seats for next week's game. Beth wasn't sure how she would convince Dean to allow the kids to attend another game so soon again, but at least this time, she'd have the children on her side, too, begging their father. For their own unique reasons, all four of Beth's kids were converted. They were Cowboys now, their own school and its teams already forgotten.

Once more all holding hands, they made their way down the bleachers, past the field, and towards the parking lot, but it was slow going, the lingering, excited crowd celebrating its victory exuberantly. "You weren't gonna leave without introducin' me to your babies, were you, Ma?"

"Rio!," Beth exclaimed, caught off guard by his sudden arrival and surprised that he had managed to get away. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be getting Gatorade dumped all over you right about now?"

"Letti texted me that you had to get goin', so I slipped away. Thanks for that, by the way. You saved me from being a sticky, cold mess for the rest of the night."

As much as she wanted to stay and talk with Rio - congratulate him on the win and run her idea by him, she knew that they didn't have time. He would need to get back to the team, and she needed to get on the road. "Kids, this is my coworker and… friend, Mr. Contreras. He's Mrs. Contreras' son and Nurse Letti's brother. Mr. Contreras," Beth emphasized his last name because she had slipped and called him Rio before in front of her children. Starting with her oldest who was the farthest to her left, Beth went down the line as she introduced, "this is Kenny, Jane, Emma, and Danny."

"You're a really good coach," Kenny praised, making Rio grin.

"Yeah," Danny chimed in. "Your run/pass ratio was outstanding."

"They're really good kids," Rio deflected the compliments. "I have a great team. And you into analytics, Little Man?," he addressed Danny directly. "There might be a spot on my staff for you."

"I got to cheer with the real cheerleaders," Emma gushed, blushing in her happiness… just like her Mom. "One of them let me use her pompoms, and they even lifted me up into a… what was it called again, Mommy?"

"An elevator," Beth supplied, squeezing her older daughter's hand.

Rio kneeled down before her. "I'm sorry I missed it. Next time, I'll have Letti record it for me, yeah?"

Not to be outdone and wanting to get her thoughts heard as well, Jane piped up, asking, "do you know The Cowboy?"

"I do. His name's Pedro. He's real sorry at math but pretty dope with that lasso." Once Jane was giggling, Rio stood back up to his full height. "And what about you, Elizabeth? What'd you think of the game?"

"I think that we should have left five minutes ago." Before he could respond, she pressed on, "I asked your mother to pass along our appreciation for the Cowboys gear, but since you're here now, what do you guys say to Mr. Contreras?"

In chorus, the kids said, "thank you, Mr. Contreras."

Rio smirked but nodded, responding appropriately. "You're all welcome. After all, we needed our newest and best fans reppin' the team in style tonight if we were gonna win."

"It really was a lovely gesture. It made us feel welcome, like we belong here."

"That's 'cause you do."

"And I'll wash and return your jersey to you on Monday. Maybe we could talk, too? There's something that I want to run by you, get your opinion on."

"Yeah, of course. Lunch?" He offered it so casually, like they always ate lunch with each other, yet it would actually be their first time.

"I'd like that."

"And keep it, yeah," Rio told her, nodding towards the shirt. "Wear it to the game next week, too. It's good luck now, Ma." Leaning in close so that only Beth could hear him, Rio continued in a gravelly rasp. "You look damn good in my clothes, but you'd look even better out of 'em."

Before Beth could react… or even truly accept that she had heard him correctly, Rio was gone, slipping away into the crush of people surrounding them with a, "I'll see you guys next week for the game, right?," in farewell to the kids.

And the ride home didn't grant her a chance to analyze Rio's comment either, because the kids were too keyed up, talking over one another in their excitement over the game, in their delight in meeting the Contreras family, even in their pride that their mom was a part of something, even peripherally, that was so cool. She thought at least Janey might fall asleep during the drive to Judith's house, but all four kids were still going strong by the time Beth pulled into her former mother-in-law's driveway. A small part of her worried about how Dean would react to the children's ebullience, but then she dismissed the unease, because the fact that they had so much fun was a good thing, and Dean and his feelings, his ego, were no longer her problem.

After overnight bags were unloaded, kids unstrapped from their booster seats, and goodnight kisses and hugs exchanged, Beth set off to make the fifteen minute drive back to her empty and quiet house. But unlike most weekends, she wasn't dreading being on her own. For once, she wasn't going to fill her Saturday and Sunday with an endless list of household chores. Instead, she had research to do, and a proposal to draft, and she wanted to bake something, too. After all, it never hurt to butter someone up before pitching them an idea, and Rio was certainly susceptible to her buttering.

She was thinking… mini loaves of snickerdoodle bread.

!

Beth was so confused.

If she didn't have Rio's high school football jersey washed, folded, and sitting on the bench at the end of her bed, ready and waiting for her to wear it again to the next game, she would wonder if she had fantasized everything that had happened the Friday before. Oh, Rio was perfectly polite, cordial. He greeted her when they just happened to walk into school together that morning. Like clockwork, he slipped into her classroom to observe for a few minutes during his free period. And he kept their lunch date as planned… though the word date was a complete misnomer.

Not that Beth had asked him to meet with her for that reason! It was just… after the jersey, and how amazing he was to and with her kids, and his mom and sister, and after what he said to her, she had started thinking that… maybe there was something there? Luckily, she was so busy over the weekend that she didn't have time to spin the possibility into anything more, to build it up in her mind until it meant something and she was invested in the idea, in the hope. Because this? His aloofness while they sat together in his classroom - the door open so anyone walking by could see or even walk in and join them - would have hurt too much for Beth to push it aside and act normally.

But she hadn't allowed the potential for more to take hold - too distracted by everything else, so she was capable of acting just as professional, just as reserved, as Rio. And maybe that's all it was: professionalism on his part. When Beth looked back at their previous interactions, he was always his most personal when the two of them were alone… or, at least, not actively working. But, then again, she had also misjudged nearly two months of his behavior towards her, believing him to be cold and judgemental when he was actually trying to be supportive. The most logical explanation was that Beth had no idea how to read Rio.

Between being married for fifteen years… and to Dean Boland of all people, no less… and this being her first real job, Beth's social skills were in all likelihood lacking. Oh, she was perfectly polite, and she could certainly talk about kids, cooking, household chores, and crafting with other moms. But colleagues whose lives looked very different than her own, especially male - handsome male - colleagues? Beth was at a loss. She obviously didn't understand them, and she had been so hurt by Dean's infidelity and his belittling of her worth and value that she was just looking for any sort of attention, any sort of outside validation, from people she had no business even thinking about in that way. Rio was her coworker who had recognized her abilities as a teacher and was now trying to help her improve her relationship with her students and their parents. That was it, and it needed to be enough.

It was enough.

"I want to start a boosters club."

Around a mouthful of his stew… which Beth found herself wondering if he had made himself, or his Mom, or maybe there was even somebody else in Rio's life who cooked for him that she hadn't met or heard about yet, he asked, "those fund athletics, yeah? They ain't for educational resources."

Banishing her thoughts with a quick, discreet shake of her head, Beth refocused. "Correct. However, how much do you think it costs the district every year to make sports available to our students?" Although Beth didn't want Rio to actually answer her… unless he knew, then by all means, she did give him a moment to consider her question before she revealed, "upwards of $500,000! Imagine how many new books and new computers we could buy if suddenly the district had half a million dollars of the budget suddenly available. That's where a boosters club comes in."

"As a district employee whose kids don't attend this school, you can't run the booster's club."

"No," Beth agreed with him. "But I did a lot of research this weekend, and most Michigan high school boosters' bylaws not only allow but require the group to have a district employee as a non-voting member of its board. It's essentially an oversight position that liaisons with the school. And there's absolutely nothing that says I cannot advise parents and involved community members on how to start a boosters organization. I can even help them come up with their plan, write their mission, draft and file the request to become a state nonprofit corporation. Then, there are the guidelines. I read so many of them this weekend that I'm pretty sure I could write a set in my sleep. We'll need to apply for a federal tax identification number and 501c3 - tax exempt - status with the IRS. Of course, this will all have to be presented to and approved by the board, and this all must be put in place before the first fundraiser is even planned."

"So, this won't be a quick fix to your supplies problem," Rio pointed out slowly… like he was either hesitant to disappoint her or hesitant to be disappointed by her response.

Rio had never once before displayed anything but a willingness to give her the unvarnished truth or his opinion… even when it wasn't asked for or wanted, so why the sudden reluctance, especially when his point was obvious and something she had already considered. "I realize that," Beth told him. "But what I was thinking of and trying to do before - Bake Sales for Books! - was just the proverbial band-aid for a bullet wound. This - a boosters club - is triage, trauma care, surgery, and rehabilitation all in one."

As she waited for his reaction, Beth pushed around her harvest fall salad. Suddenly, her appetite was gone. She had expected Rio to be impressed by and supportive of her idea - not only as a teacher who would benefit from the additional funding as well but also as a multi-sport coach and an involved member of the neighborhood. Isn't this what he wanted from her? Didn't he say that she should invest in not just her classroom but also in her students' and their families' lives, in the local community?

"This ain't somethin' that you can start and then just skip out on in six months' time."

Confused, Beth asked, "what do you mean? I already said that I would be willing to hold the ex-officio board seat."

"Come on, Elizabeth. Are you tellin' me that you're not already plannin' your exit strategy?" Standing, Rio paced away from his desk where they were eating together. Once he was as far away from her as he could get, he turned around and leaned against the wall, crossing his feet at the ankles and shoving his hands into the front pockets of his dark jeans. His pose was deliberately casual, but she could feel the tension between them like a weighted blanket. "You do a year at a place like this, and then you use that experience to nab some cushy gig at a school in the 'burbs where you're from or even some snooty academy, gettin' yourself out of the city and, bonus, those babies of yours into private school."

She stood as well, started packing up her lunch. "I'm not looking for another job, Mr. Contreras. In fact, I'd like to move here with my children, but I don't have the luxury of making that kind of decision on my own. Legally speaking, their father gets a say, too." As she went to walk by him, Beth paused, narrowing her gaze in concern. She was hurt by his assumptions, and her instinct was to run, but Beth also felt like she was owed an explanation for Rio's attitude towards her reverting back to his initial cynicism. "Where is this coming from? I thought we had gotten past this."

"So did I. But then my Moms told me that you wouldn't commit to attendin' this week's game, and I started thinkin' about how you couldn't get outta here fast enough."

Shaking her head sadly at his assumptions, Beth told Rio, "I have a formal custody agreement set by the state that I have to adhere to. Yes, Dean and I can make slight changes as we see fit if we both agree to them, but from Friday evening until Sunday night, that's his court appointed time with them. Do you know what I had to sacrifice in order to take my children to that football game last week? Halloween. I gave up trick-or-treating." The for you went unspoken, but at least for Beth, it was loud and clear, ringing out and echoing back to them in that otherwise empty classroom. "And I don't regret the sacrifice. The kids and I had a wonderful time at the game, and they want to go again more than anything. But what will I have to give up this time? And the next time? And the next? I told your Mom and sister that I would try, that I will bring the kids with me to this week's game if I can, and that I'll be in attendance no matter what, but that's as much as I can promise, and I don't see how you or anyone else could ask for more from me."

Without giving Rio a chance to respond - to apologize or to double down on his wariness and resentment, Beth quietly left the room and returned to her own.

She was confused no longer.

!

"You! Outside! Hallway! Now!"

While Beth was grading, her students were either reading or independently working on their current projects, but the snarled words stabbed through the thick, plaster walls, everyone stopped what they were doing, and… just looked at each other. For one, two, three seconds, the entire classroom existed under a pregnant, anticipatory fog. But then it lifted, and it was a mad scramble towards the door. No one actually announced what was happening, but they didn't need to. The atmosphere screamed fight. Just as when she was in school and just as would always be the case, the very whiff of a confrontation created a melee.

As a teacher, an adult, and a source of authority, Beth rushed towards the fight as well, gently but with determination pushing her way through and to the front of her students. Not only did she have a responsibility to break up whatever disturbance was already taking place, but she also needed to guarantee the safety of those under her care and supervision, preventing any of her own students from joining the brawl.

Hopefully, she wasn't too late to limit the fight to just raised voices alone. The shouting had come from Rio's classroom which was concerning in and of itself. No one in the school ran a tighter ship than Rio, and the kids all seemed to, if not idolize him, then at least respect and/or fear him. Beth had never even heard him yell before. Their students at Western International were just as rambunctious, just as hormonal, just as prone to fighting as anywhere else, yet Mr. Contreras' classroom seemed to be the exception. Nothing ever went down inside of his four walls, so if whatever had erupted just moments before had already reached the point where Beth and her students could clearly hear it through the walls, she was a little scared at what she would find when she finally made it to the front of the rapidly gathering crowd.

Only… there was no fight.

Instead, Beth found Rio crowding an intimidated, cowed teenager into the wall of metal lockers. He was leaning down and into the kid's face, hands clenched at his sides and voice a menacingly low growl. With one glance, Beth could easily see that it was taking Rio every last reserve of his restraint to not just unleash himself on the student. Even though it was certainly not what she or anyone else had anticipated finding out in the hallway, no one moved. No one said a word. Everyone just watched on, fascinated and enthralled.

"Go on. Say it again. Now that you don't have all your little flunkie friends eggin' you on, now that it's just you and me, why don't you call Ms. Marks that one more time and see what happens."

Beth gasped, realizing that, whatever was happening, it was about her.

But Rio was either too lost in his fury to hear her reaction, or he was too intent upon making his point to entertain any distractions... even or perhaps especially from her. "Because as your teacher, I might not be able to do anythin' about you degradin' Ms. Marks. But as your coach, as your neighbor? I can make your life a livin' hell, tu pequeño pissant." Beth visibly saw the teenager swallow, but Rio wasn't finished yet. "As your elder and your teacher, you should already respect her. But as a woman and a mother of four babies? You'll treat her like the fuckin' queen she is, you feel me?"

"I'm really sorry, Coach. It won't happen again."

"You're damn right it won't," Rio stated, finally taking a step back from the student. Beth breathed a sigh of relief. "But I don't want your apology. That's not what you owe me. Nah, you'll settle up with me durin' practice this afternoon… and when I call your Abuela tonight and have a li'l chat with her about you learnin' some manners."

The boy's face suddenly paled, all color washed out. "If you tell my Abuelita what I said, she'll skin me alive, Mr. Contreras. She heard all about that new boosters thing Ms. Marks is starting, and she said 'she's just what this school needs.' Once Abuelita's finished with me, I won't be able to sit for a week… and we have a game Friday night!"

Rio laughed long and hard. "Oh, you actually think you playin' for me again this season?"

"But, Coach, it's regionals!"

"You shoulda thought about that before you ran that mouth of yours," Rio snapped, pounding a fist into the locker directly next to the student's head. The kid jumped, flinched, tried to shrink away from Rio, but there was nowhere for him to go. "Now, about that apology? I might not want one, but Ms. Marks damn well deserves one. And you better make it good. And fuckin' mean it, too."

At that moment, the teenager looked up at Beth, meeting her eyes from across the hall, and Rio turned around to face her, folding his hands behind his back. It was then that she realized they had both been aware of her presence all along, and she was reminded of the fact that there were twenty-two other students standing behind her, gaping at the scene before them. "Everyone back inside and back to work," Beth quietly directed, not turning away from Rio or the young man who, apparently, had insulted her. A few of her students grumbled about having to leave 'just when it was getting good, too,' but eventually they all cooperated. Whether it was out of respect for her authority or an aversion to Rio's wrath, she didn't know. But she also didn't question it.

Once it was just the three of them alone in the hallway, the student wearily approached, dragging his feet but facing her nonetheless. He wasn't one of Beth's own students, but she was pretty sure his name was Arturo, and he was the football team's starting safety. His absence would certainly be felt on the field. "I'm really sorry… about what I said. It was stupid. I was just mouthing off to my friends, and I didn't think about how it might make you feel."

"I appreciate that," Beth murmured sincerely. "Can you tell me what you said?"

"I'd really rather not." The teen's gaze flew to her chest, immediately making Beth uncomfortable and self-conscious.

Rio must have clocked her reaction - she started to adjust her top, wanting somehow to add more fabric and raise the neckline of her dress, because he told her, "nah, don't do that, Elizabeth. There's nothin' wrong with you or the way you dress. Don't let this fool get inside your head." That was easier said than done, considering all the possibilities of what might have been said about her by a child less than half of her age.

"Not only will it not happen again," the student promised her, recapturing Beth's attention, "but I'll shut down anyone else who says anything about you, too."

She couldn't help but ask timidly, "do… people talk about me a lot?"

The kid looked back over his shoulder towards Rio, obviously seeking guidance on how or even if he should answer her question. But it was Rio, staring Beth directly in the eyes, who said, "less and less every day, Mama." He let his words and their meaning - that he was personally responsible for silencing anyone who dared say anything about her - sink in for a moment before nodding his head towards his classroom door, "get back inside, yeah, and tell all your fellow idiots that they better be workin' on their assignment and not eavesdroppin'." The student didn't need to be told twice.

When it was just the two of them, Beth whispered, "thank you." Since their disaster of a lunch the week before, they had been awkward with each other, tentative. Dean had refused to allow the kids to attend the second playoff game, but Beth had gone alone, wearing Rio's jersey despite their disagreement. His mom and sister had been just as welcoming, just as friendly, and she had even met some more of Rio's family, an aunt and uncle and some cousins coming out for the second round of districts. They, too, had known who Beth was even before she had introduced herself.

"You don't need to thank me, Ma. I'm just doin' what's right."

Smiling softly at him, she admitted, "I know. And that just makes me even more grateful." She turned, started to walk away only to pause, glance over her shoulder, and request, "don't be too hard on him in practice, okay? I don't want that on my conscience."

"But his Abuela can beat him back and blue and you'll be cool with that," Rio teased her.

Beth scoffed. "I haven't been teaching here long, but even I know that you don't argue with an abuelita, Rio."

As Beth slipped back inside of her classroom and closed the door behind her, she did so to the soundtrack of his deep, genuinely amused laughter. The memory of that sound, of his joy and pleasure - pleasure that she had caused him - kept her warm for the rest of the sharp and frigid November day.

!

"Ugh. I thought Christmas was supposed to be all about peace and good will towards Annie?"

"It is," Ruby answered emphatically before screwing up her face in consideration. "Well, mostly. At least for people who don't talk about themselves in the third person."

"Then why am I so stressed, and why do all of these douchenozzles keep buying everything I want?"

"Uh… the fact that you're calling random strangers douchenozzles might have something to do with it," Beth's best friend pointed out.

Chiming in, Beth added, "and I'm not sure how we could possibly make Christmas shopping less stressful for you. You're sitting down on a cushioned chair in my warm, clean house, I fed you dinner, and I keep topping off your glass every time you hold it out like I'm your waiter and not your sister. You even made the holiday playlist we're listening to."

"I know," Annie whined. "But I think it's almost, like, too nice? Maybe I need the wet feet, the crush of the crowds, and the nausea-inducing aroma of too many bodies and too much perfume sampling in an airless space to get in the holiday spirit and, more importantly, get my competitive juices flowing."

"Maybe," Ruby side-eyed Annie's nearly empty wine glass, "the issue is that you've had too much juice of a different kind."

"Excuse me, it's called mom juice for a reason, and I'm momming right now, so I need it."

Ruby screeched, "bidding for limited edition Funko Pops on eBay is not momming, bitch!"

Annie gasped in feigned afront. "Ben needs them!"

"Ben, huh?"

The three of them were gathered around Beth's dining room table, the extra chairs pushed aside to give them more room and the decorative bowl that usually sat in the center moved to the sideboard, so they could spread out their laptops and lists. Rather than brave… or suffer, depending upon one's opinion, the mall on Black Friday, they had long since switched to online shopping, but this was the first year that they were making it a thing. Although Beth and Dean had been separated the year before, this was her first Thanksgiving and Black Friday as a divorced, single mom, and Annie and Ruby were worried about her.

Quite frankly, they didn't need to be, but Beth wouldn't deny them their concern or herself their company, so they had congregated together to surf the sales. If nothing else, it meant less leftovers for Beth. Even though the kids were with Dean at Judith's, Beth had still cooked a full Thanksgiving meal the day before. They ate early, Annie and Ben joining them, and then Dean had picked the kids up in the afternoon, starting their weekend on Thursday rather than Friday. It was the price Beth had to pay so they could attend the Cowboys' regional football game with her.

But the change to her holiday routine hadn't been as difficult as she had expected. Annie and Ben had lingered into the evening, keeping Beth amused and distracted, and Ben had even offered to help her clean up from lunch. Then, once they went home, Beth had gone through the ads, drafting a plan for herself. Unlike in years past when Beth was unaware of their true financial situation and Dean would spend money like a man with a guilty conscience, Beth had a strict budget for Christmas. Her ex could buy on credit and worry about how he would actually pay for it later, but Beth wouldn't skip her mortgages in order to materialistically tell her children that she loved them. No, she would do that with her words and actions instead, and much of what she had planned for them during the holidays didn't revolve around gifts but activities and events instead - some just as a new family of five but also some in the city, in the community where she worked, as well.

They were going to drive through the Wayne County Lightfest and the zoo's Wild Lights display. She wanted to take them to Noel Night in Midtown, and they were definitely going to the Southwest Holiday Fest… even if it was on a Saturday. Beth would make yet another deal with Dean. She had a sneaking suspicion that he and Judith were taking the kids to Disney World for Christmas, so Beth would likely earn some custody schedule leeway due to the trip. Plus, there were school events to attend as well.

"Okay. That's it. I need a distraction. I think I'm too focused on my shopping. I need to check out while I'm… checking out," Annie reasoned. Her logic did not make any sense to Beth, but that was nothing new when it came to her little sister. "Give me the goss. What's the 411?"

"Well, Stan's thinking about enrolling in the police academy."

Annie made a rude buzzing sound. "Next!"

"Annie!," Beth chastised.

"What," her sister defended herself, shrugging. "I asked to be distracted, not terrified. The last thing I need is for half of my ride or die to be married to the law. What about you," Annie waved towards Beth. "What are the latest happenings at Sweet Valley High?"

"Rumor has it Mrs. Zielinski, the school nurse, is retiring… and she's not even going to finish out the school year."

"So, like, stethoscope drop," Ruby quipped, earning a nod of recognition and a chuckle from Beth.

But Annie was not amused. "You know that's not what I'm asking."

"Then I will tell you what I tell my students: be specific with your questions if you want specific answers."

"How's Math Teaching Nemesis?"

At some point, Beth's secret designation for Rio had become his official name… as far as Annie was concerned. "Fine."

Her sister threw her arms up in frustration. "I asked a specific question!"

"Eh," Beth shrugged her shoulders.

"Fine," Annie pouted. "Is he still stalking you?"

"Does he often still sit in and observe my class?" Annie rolled her eyes at Beth's clarification. "Yes."

"And that's it? That's all you're going to tell us?"

"What else do you want me to say, Annie?" Her sister opened her mouth, but Beth kept talking. "You made it clear how you felt about the topic. Besides, Mr. Contreras and I have… come to an understanding."

"Unless that's code for boning…"

"It's not," she emphatically stated.

Annie sighed, and she held out her wine glass for a refill, and she occasionally threw put out and surely glances in Beth's direction after the three of them returned to their shopping, but she allowed the subject to be dropped. Which was a good thing! If Annie kept pushing and Ruby joined her, Beth wasn't sure for how long she would be able to hold out against their combined efforts. Because, no, she and Rio weren't… boning.

But Beth wanted to be.

She still didn't know what he thought or how he felt about her, but she was very clear on her own feelings - had been for a week now. With a single, simple touch, Rio made everything for Beth come into sharp, glaring focus.

They were being absolutely bludgeoned.

The good news was that the kids didn't seem to care. While the rest of the stadium… well, at least their side of it… was subdued, Beth's children were just as entertained by the entire spectacle of a high school playoff football game. Letti and Maria Elena helped with that, too. Although it was obvious that they were sad for their brother and son, respectively, the kids buoyed their spirits, and the adults seemed to feed off of their energy. Except for Beth. And that was the bad news, because as illogical as it was, she couldn't help but feel like everything was her fault.

"I need to…," she gestured desperately towards the locker room where Rio and the team had gone to catch their breath and try to come up with a way to stop the bleeding, literal and figurative, for the second half. Then looking back and forth between Letti and her children, Beth asked, "... could you?""Go," her new friend told her. "Mom and I will take care of your babies for you."

So, Beth did just that. Leaving her purse behind with Letti for expediency sake, Beth edged her way around the others in their row and then practically ran down the bleachers. The areas surrounding the field were just as busy during halftime as they usually were - with spectators using the restroom, visiting the concession stand, even leaving the game early. But without the kids to keep track of, Beth was able to slip quickly and relatively unnoticed through the crowd, darting into the home locker room before anyone could try and stop her - not that she could have been deterred, but it was just easier to not have to think of a reason to justify her presence there.

Thankfully, there was someone stationed outside of the actual room where the players and coaches were gathered. Beth was a mother of four and far from a blushing virgin, but it would have been awkward for everyone if she had just barged into the locker room and accidentally saw a student in less than their full uniform. The man watching the door saw her almost immediately, though he didn't react beyond informing her, "there are no public restrooms in here."

Wringing her hands together nervously, Beth said, "I need to see him. I need to see Rio." When the guard went to protest, she added, "just… tell him it's… it's Ms. Marks. Please. He'll come out. I think." God, she hoped so.

"Alright. Gimme a second," the man told her before disappearing inside of the locker room. She was pretty sure he was an unofficial assistant coach - one of those guys who fancied himself a football genius or who was trying to recapture his glory days, so he hung around the team, and they let him, because he was harmless, but he certainly wasn't paid for his efforts, and he didn't ride the bus to away games.

Within moments, Rio was charging through the doorway and towards her - the guard hot on his heels until Rio sent him a look that had him scurrying back inside. Once they were alone, Rio started to ask, "what is it? Is everythin' okay? Nobody's…"

"Let him play," Beth cut him off. She knew they didn't have long to talk. Plus, she didn't want him worrying for no reason. When she decided that she had to see him, she never considered that he might interpret her appearance as something being wrong.

Once they were standing close enough that their shoes touched and Beth had to tip her head back to look up and meet Rio's eyes as he gazed down on her, he sighed. "Elizabeth."

"Look, I know that...," she started.

But, this time, it was his turn to interrupt her. "Have you been watchin' that game at all, Mama?"

"Of course. Every play.""Then you know that no benched startin' safety is causin' us to get our asses whooped that bad.""But…""We can't move the ball. We can't score, and we can't stop them from scorin'. That ain't exactly a recipe for success, Darlin'."

Beth sighed. "I know that. But everyone else? They're going to see that Arturo isn't playing - and because of me, I might add, and it'll be easier to think 'what if' then it will be to accept that we just… weren't good enough to win."

Rio shook his head in disagreement. "You don't give my guys enough credit."

"You called them idiots two days ago, Rio!""Well, I mean, they are idiots. But they know football… just like everyone out there," he gestured towards the stadium, "knows it, too. Besides," Rio added, lowering his voice and reaching out to tuck back a strand of hair that had fallen into her eyes - Beth gasping when his pinky oh so subtly made contact with her skin. "I wouldn't care if the game was tied, we had just enough time left on the clock to toss up a hail mary, and Arturo was the only player who could make that throw. He still wouldn't be gettin' in that game, Sweetheart, and I wouldn't lose one wink of sleep over it either.""It's just… I'm finally starting to make progress here - at the school, with the parents, and I don't want anyone to be mad at or blame me for this.""If anyone even looks at you wrong, you send 'em to me," Rio told her. Then he quickly added, "but they won't. 'Cause we weren't supposed to make it this far anyway. Everybody had us losin' in the first round, so all of this - tonight, making it to regionals," he gestured around them, "is gravy.""Yeah. Lumpy gravy... thanks to me," Beth grumbled. But they both knew that she was only joking (well, mostly), Rio having allayed her apprehension.

Rio nodded towards the door behind him. "I need to get back, yeah. But I'll see you after the game?"

"Yes," she confirmed. "I have the kids tonight, but we can stay long enough to say goodbye."

"Best part of my night," he said with a wink before turning around and jogging back into the locker room.

Beth didn't have a crush on Rio… as Ruby and Annie had suspected at the beginning of the school year.

She was in love with him.

It was crazy! She was a thirty-seven year old mother of four fresh off a divorce, and he was… Rio: young, handsome, smart, athletic, sexy as hell Rio. Beth wasn't sure how or when exactly it had happened. Somehow and at some point between him telling her to quit on her first morning of work and the night of the last football game, Beth fell. Hard. And when he touched her, she just… knew. But she was the only one who knew, and she meant to keep it that way.

She wasn't ashamed or embarrassed by her feelings for Rio. She wasn't even shy about the fact that they were, in all likelihood, unrequited. As wonderful as it would be if he cared for her, too, there was still something special in realizing that she could still feel this way, that Dean and everything he did to her hadn't ruined or forever scared Beth away from love. Yet, she had every intention of keeping her realization… and the pleasure it brought her… to herself. Beth didn't even want Annie or Ruby to find out.

Annie and Ruby were entitled to their own opinions. Beth respected them even more because the three of them could disagree but nothing would ever really change between them. Annie would always be her crazy, beloved little sister, and Ruby would always be her best friend. But when they had doubted her, when they wished her well but told her not to get her hopes up for her interview? Something… broke between them. After she got the job, they couldn't have been any more supportive or proud, and Beth was slowly rebuilding her faith in their respect for her, but it would take time. For now, her feelings for Rio were too beautiful, too tender, too fresh for Beth to share them.

It would absolutely crush her if they found out and reacted in a similar way as to how they did when Beth announced that, after fifteen years, she was finally trying to be a teacher. Yes, they loved her, but they obviously recognized limitations within her that even Beth didn't see herself. Would they look at Beth and think that she was too old, too motherly, too matronly, too dull, too… curvy for someone like Rio. After all, Beth wasn't even capable of keeping someone like Dean interested. How could she ever possibly attract and then keep Rio? Beth could have these fears, these doubts, herself, but to hear them from two of the people she loved the most? She couldn't risk that.

So, she kept quiet. In her mind, she relived the moment when Rio brushed her hair out of her face a thousand and one times, and she indulged in fantasies of them together, but on the outside, Beth made small talk, worked her way down her Christmas shopping list, and played hostess, giving utterly nothing away.

"So," she glanced up from her laptop, smiled, waiting until Annie and Ruby met her gaze. "Who wants leftover pie?"

!

It was a little after 4:00 p.m. on the last day of school before Christmas break, and Beth was dragging her feet. She just… didn't want to go home. However, her coworkers obviously didn't feel the same way, because the building was completely deserted, and it was starting to get a little creepy. She'd tried turning on some music, but without other people around, the melodic gaiety just felt like it was mocking her. Home wouldn't be any better - the kids were with Dean, and Beth had far too much time on her hands but, for once, little to do. At least if she went back to the house, though, she could change - get out of her dress and booties, take off her bra, her tights. Maybe she'd run herself a bath, have a glass of bourbon, or be really decadent and drink her bourbon in the tub.

While closing out of all her open applications and putting her computer into sleep mode, Beth grabbed her things. With no grading to complete during break, her attaché case was lighter than normal, making her pause in alarm that she had forgotten something. Maybe she didn't exactly want to go home to an empty house, but she also didn't fancy driving all the way back into the city just because she neglected to pack everything. Briefly, Beth debated whether or not she should put on her winter jacket. The wool peacoat would keep her warm while she walked out to her car and waited for the van's heat to really start working, but she hated driving in the extra bulk. It made her feel clumsy, like her reactions were just a fraction of a second slower. The kids weren't with her, though, so Beth didn't need to set a good example, and she chose long term comfort over short term well-being.

Purse on her shoulder, coat over her arm, and attaché case and empty lunchbox in hand, Beth made her way outside. The snow that had fallen the night before and into the morning was almost completely gone, and in its place was a light rain - like a mist. Luckily, the temperatures were high enough that Beth wouldn't have to worry about the roads turning slick and icing over. Her commute wasn't unbearable - just thirty minutes, but that would lengthen considerably if the rain started to freeze.

As she rounded the back of her van on her way to the driver's side door, Beth started digging for her keys. Considering how many she had on the ring - there were multiple for the house now that she had to add locks to keep Dean from acting like he still lived there, her car, her classroom, spares for Annie's apartment, even a few that Beth couldn't remember what they were for, her keys shouldn't have been difficult to find, but her purse also doubled as her mom bag, and it was always in need of organizing. So, it was with her arms full, juggling her things, and her attention diverted that Beth didn't notice that she wasn't actually alone, that there was someone waiting for her, leaning against her van.

"Need a hand?"

"Oh my god," Beth screamed. In her fright, she threw up her arms… as if to ward off any sudden attacks, but the bulk of what she was carrying nearly made her fall… until a pair of strong hands took hold of her, anchoring her with their touch at her waist.

"Hey there, Mama."

"Don't do that," Beth reprimanded. Despite her stern words, she couldn't help but take a step closer to Rio, not only wanting to be near him but also wanting to make it easier for him to continue embracing her even if it was only loosely.

"You okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine," she waved her free hand dismissively. "But if I come back from break with a slightly different hair color, just know that it's your fault."

"Hmm," he hummed. "That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about."

"My hair?" Beth was stuck somewhere between bewildered skepticism and charmed levity.

"Eleven days, Elizabeth," Rio groaned.

During that time of year, it was usually twelve days which held significance, but Beth knew exactly what he was referring to. "Please don't tell me you're one of those annoying people who live for their work and cannot handle downtime."

"Is that your way of sayin' you're not gonna miss me, too… even a li'l bit?"

"Oh," Beth exhaled longingly.

"'Cause the thought of goin' eleven days without seein' you, without hearin' your voice and watchin' you blush and tryin' to guess how far down your sweater it goes has me crawlin' out of my skin, Mami."

For the first time since he startled her, Beth's gaze left Rio's as it dropped momentarily to the exposed vee of her chest where the two sides of her wrap dress met and crossed. "You… do that?"

Rio took several steps backwards, but he never let go of her. Instead, as he moved to once more lean against her van, he widened his stance so that he could pull her between his legs. "I think about other things concernin' your skin, too."

Blinking through her surprise, she whispered, "I had no idea."

"F'real?" Beth nodded, and Rio laughed - a bright, boisterous bark of gaiety. "Sweetheart, I've wanted to get a peek under those sweaters of yours since the day we met."

"But you didn't even like me then," Beth protested hotly.

"What does one thing have to do with the other," Rio challenged her. When she didn't have an answer for him, he went on, "back then, it was just sex, and I could ignore it or work it out of my system some other way. But now?"

"Now," she breathed out on tenterhooks. The moment was both delicious and fraught in its suspense.

"Now, Baby, you're all I fuckin' think about."

"Oh," she said again for the second time in as many minutes.

Rio started to pull away. "That's it? That's all you have to say after I…"

"Ask me again," Beth demanded. Reaching up to place her hands against Rio's chest, she insisted, "do you remember the very first thing you said to me?" Rio tentatively nodded, not understanding where Beth was going with her request of him. "Then ask me that same question again. Now."

Rio narrowed his eyes but he did as she urged. "You lost or somethin'?"

"No," Beth stated - a wide, effervescent smile taking over her face. "No, I'm not lost. In fact, I'm exactly, perfectly, contentedly, wonderfully where I need and want to be." By the time she finished talking, her things were on the ground; and her arms were around Rio's neck, pulling him down towards her and pulling herself closer to him; and her mouth was on his, claiming and tasting him for the first time.

He tasted like pure spice - not any one in particular, but there was heat, and warmth, and a sharpness. At first, Beth just nibbled on his delicious lower lip. After all of the times he had tortured her by licking and running his teeth over it, the plump flesh fascinated Beth, tempted her beyond anything she'd ever experienced before. But then he was licking at the corners of her own lips, begging her for entrance, and she granted it. His tongue moved against her with a sensuousness that she knew only hinted at what the rest of his body could do. Just when she would draw away, desperate for a fresh breath, Rio would chase after her, and she would do the same until she wasn't sure who finally broke the kiss, but they were both gasping for air.

With his hands now cupping her ass, Rio teased - voice all husky, and sexy, and eager, "you know PDA ain't allowed on school grounds, Ms. Marks."

She tried - and failed - to look at him critically. "This is going to be a thing with you, isn't it?"

"I don't know," Rio drawled, smirking. At the same time, his grip on her tightened, clenched. "How do you feel about corporal punishment?"

She knew he was teasing but also… not, and Beth couldn't help but be slightly intrigued. "How do you?"

"I'm thinkin' we should debate the merits sometime over break, yeah?"

"Or…," Beth suggested otherwise. Now that she had him, the thought of not actually being with him was unbearable. Plus, they'd only shared just one kiss. It had been amazing - shatter you apart and put you back together again good, but she needed much, much more. "... you could come home with me?"

"What about those babies of yours?"

"They're in Florida at Disney World with their father and grandmother, but even if they weren't, they already know you, Rio, and they like you, and this," she gestured back and forth between them, "is not something I want to hide from them." Suddenly getting nervous, she checked with him, "unless you don't…?"

He dipped his head down, rested their foreheads together. "I'm all in, Ma."

"And are you getting in my van to come home with me for the evening?"

He kissed the dimple in her chin. "Who said I'm leavin' after just one night?"

Certainly not Beth.

!

Until that thirty minute drive to her house, Beth didn't know that just holding someone's hand could be so romantic, that the touch of someone's fingers, Rio's fingers, against her own could be so erotic. But as he traced the lines of her right palm; as he circled and circled her wrist, paying particular attention to the delicate skin on the underside where the blue of her veins could be seen through the pale, thin, nearly translucent skin; as he braided their fingers together and gently scratched his own flesh against her rounded nails, Beth felt herself becoming more and more aroused… until she was parking in her driveway, going into the the house through the laundry room, and trembling from anticipation.

Wordlessly, side by side, they took off their shoes - Rio toeing his without untying them, while Beth bent over to ease her booties off, not wanting to scuff them. Everything else - her coat, her bags, her purse, she had left in the car. As soon as they wouldn't track mud and slush through the house, Beth once more laced her right hand with Rio's left and started leading him through her home. As they walked by the kitchen and rounded the half wall into the family room, Beth never paused, not even when Rio taunted her.

"I admit, I'm a cheap date, but I don't even rate a meal first, Ma?"

Glancing over her shoulder, she just… went with the moment, embracing her desires. Rio wanted her. He was attracted to her. There was no reason for Beth to censor herself. "I never said you couldn't eat."

"Yeah, well, my Moms taught me manners, and she would expect me to dine at the table," he teased her.

She pulled him past the stairs and down the side hall. "If you tell Maria Elena about this meal, we're going to have issues, Rio."

He laughed deeply, decadently, but the levity stopped almost immediately when they entered her bedroom. For a brief moment, she paused, considered the open door. It didn't matter if her children were almost 1,200 miles away. It still felt risque to not shut it behind them. Beth led Rio to her bed and gently pushed him down. Using the tie of her dark green wrap sweater dress, he once more pulled her between his legs, but this time, Rio was sitting and Beth was standing over him, seemingly in control only… not.

Rio's hands slipped underneath the hem of her dress, running slowly up and down her legs. With each progression, his touch went higher and higher until he was gripping the waistband of her tights and tugging them down. Beth stepped out of them. But then he paused, his touch going back to her thighs - only, this time it was skin on skin. She thought he would push up her dress or maybe even peel off her thong, but Rio just caressed her, rubbing the pads of his fingers behind her knees and along the inside of her thighs, his thumbs against the points of her hips.

"Your skin is the softest thing I've ever touched."

Without thinking, she responded, "you've obviously never held a baby."

It should have made the moment awkward; it could have caused him to tense up, pull away, have second thoughts about her, and what they were doing, and where this all might lead to, but Rio just smiled up at her - this soft, gentle, adoring grin that made Beth a little weak in the knees. "Nah, Sweetheart," he said while languorously, beguilingly, pushing himself to his feet… and tugging her dress up with him. He could have simply untied the bow at her side and then unwrapped her… like a present, but his way forced her to lift her arms, and that movement raised and brushed her chest against his - a brief but delicious few seconds of friction. "I guarantee you there's one place you'll always be softer."

Beth's face, her chest, burned with the heat of her arousal. Her panties became damp. Then, in complete contrast with how slowly he had been undressing her, Rio's right hand snaked behind her back and unhooked her bra, while he crooked his left index finger around the little bow between her breasts and, with a little touch persuasion, drew it off of her and to the floor, revealing her chest to his hungry, searching gaze. "Hmm," Rio moaned appreciatively. "So, all the way down to your pretty, pink nipples, huh?"

It was then that Beth noticed that, while she was standing there in nothing but the tiniest scrap of fabric, Rio was still completely dressed - only his shoes removed. When she reached for him - her fingers just grazing the bottom of his button up shirt before he skirted around her, Rio warned, "Elizabeth, if you touch me right now - lookin' the way you do when I want you this bad, I'll be cummin' in pants like a virgin rubbin' one out to his first nudie magazine."

Eyes widening at the realization of just how much… power she had over him, Beth gasped, "oh!" And then she decided to drive him just that much more wild by slipping off her thong, sitting primly on the edge of the bed, and then scooting backwards until she was in the center, leaning against the headboard with her legs closed and crossed, watching him intently and waiting.

Rio immediately began to strip. He moved slowly, stiffly, while unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans, but once they were safely past his hips, he was a whirlwind of flying limbs and clothes. In his haste to remove his shirt, Rio ripped off a button, making Beth laugh. "You're lucky I know how to sew."

"Baby, I'm lucky for a hell of a lot of reasons - about to get even luckier, but you fixin' my shirt ain't one of them, yeah?"

The last to go were his black boxer briefs, and the reveal was worth the wait. She sighed in appreciation and then panted in anticipation, but that was before Rio climbed onto the bed - first his knees, and then he allowed his torso to fall forwards, catching himself with his arms, so he could crawl towards her. "You gonna return the favor, Darlin'," he asked, nodding his head towards her center. "Come on, part those gorgeous thighs, and let me see heaven."

Beth did just that.

With her legs now on either side of him, Rio sat back on his haunches and just… stared at her. He didn't try to touch her, but he licked his lips. If possible, his straining, leaking cock seemed to get even harder, yet Rio didn't even blink. Beth, however, started to squirm, her wetness pooling even more. Just when she thought she might cry out in desperation, Rio rasped, "condoms?"

Beth could only vaguely gesture towards her nightstand, Rio leaning over her to rummage through it. Not only did he remove the entire, unopened box of condoms - a spiteful purchase when her divorce was finalized that was paying off terrifically, but he also retrieved her vibrator, placing it down on the bed but off to the side. Evidently, it was for later.

While Rio finally reached for Beth - palming her hips before wrapping his hands around her waist and yanking her towards him, she tore into the condom box, blinding removing one and bringing it to her mouth. Rio settled her on his lap - her ass against his thighs, while her shoulders were braced against the mattress, leaving the small of her back hovering in the air, and Beth settled the condom onto his cock, squeezing him slightly as she rolled the condom down his impressive length. Afterwards, it took Rio less than ten seconds to dip the head of his cock into her pussy.

Despite how wet she was, it - he - was a stretch. Rio had to ease inside of her slowly, massaging her clit with the thumb of his right hand and holding one of her legs up against his side with the other. To help, to encourage, to just bring him all the way in all at once, Beth rolled and circled her hips. The deeper he sank, the more she wanted him, the more she needed him. When Beth couldn't reach Rio, her hands found her own body - cupping and caressing her breasts, pinching and biting her nails into her beaded nipples.

As soon as Rio bottomed out inside of her, his touch left her thigh, abandoned her oh so sensitive bundle of nerves, to cup her ass and then slide up and up until he held her by the shoulder blades, lifting her upper body in a graceful, sensuous arc. Sitting on top of his slightly braced apart legs - his dick throbbing inside of her but otherwise not moving, Beth wrapped her arms around Rio's neck and joined their mouths together, moaning as soon as Rio's tongue brushed against her own. If possible, he seemed to pull her even closer to him - crushing her breasts against his chest and dragging her hips in towards his body until, even with the slightest of movements, her clit would rub against him.

Only then - one hand tangled in her hair and holding her by the neck, the other wrapped low around her waist to grip onto and clasp as much of one rounded, fleshy ass cheek as he could - did Rio finally thrust. He used the strength of his legs - lean and long but so powerful - to drive up into her fluttering center, dragging against every muscle, every nerve ending when he pulled out, Beth clenching as hard as she could in an attempt to keep him inside of her. He built her pleasure up slowly yet thoroughly until Beth was shaking and whimpering with her release, her climax catching Rio and inciting his own.

Afterwards, he just held her. His mouth would explore, kissing, and licking, and biting her flesh wherever he could reach - her neck, her shoulders, behind her ears, deep into her cleavage, and the tops of her breasts - only to inevitably return to her lips… like, if he was away from her taste for too long, his cravings would demand to be sated. And Beth was more than happy to slake his thirst.

It could have been minutes later; it could have been hours when Rio questioned, "when do your babies come home, Mama?"

"Their plane gets in early Christmas morning. My ex will bring them here right from the airport."

He hugged her just a little bit tighter. "Does that mean I can have you until then?"

Unwrapping herself from around him, Beth pulled back so that, when she answered Rio's question, he could see the sincerity and hope in her gaze. "You can have me for as long as you want me, Rio."

Preferably, forever.

!

Even after nine months as a high school English teacher the previous year, she must have become desensitized to the sheer cacophony of noise 1,400 teenagers could produce in a labyrinth of echoing hallways. Laughter and voices competing over each other, the slamming of metal locker doors, tennis shoes squeaking against waxed floors, it was both the soundtrack of adolescence and the soundtrack of Beth's career. As she sat at her desk, waiting for her homeroom students to trickle in and find their seats, she couldn't help the smile that spread across her face. The summer had been amazing, and it was nice to have a break, but she was glad to be back. Not only was Beth looking forward to the new school year, but she was immensely curious how the students would react to the changes that had taken place over the last three months.

"What the hell is this," someone swore outside of her open door, making Beth smirk. "What happened to Ms. Marks, and who's Mrs. Contreras?"

Another voice jumped into the fray. "She said she'd be our class advisor this year. You don't think she quit, do you? Maybe they just moved the classrooms around or something?"

"I'm not going anywhere," Beth sang out, enticing the curious teenagers into the room. Standing, she settled her arms low against her abdomen, folding one hand on top of the other. "At least… not for another six months or so. But don't worry. I'll be back from maternity leave in time for prom." As the junior class advisor, she would be working with them to organize and host the seminal high school event.

"You're having a baby," someone asked her. By their tone alone, Beth couldn't tell if they were excited for her, dismayed at being confronted with hard proof that at least one of their teachers had sex, or surprised.

"That's what I've been told," Beth answered, feeling light and content in her amusement.

"Did you notice that someone messed up your name on your classroom sign," a student wanted to know.

Before Beth could respond, a kid Beth remembered from the baseball team said, "wait, that's Coach's last name. Did you…?"

"What's this," Rio questioned, suddenly appearing in her doorway as if he had been summoned. Knowing him, he was probably just waiting for someone to say his name. He leaned against the wall, crossed one foot in front of the other, and mirrored the stance with his arms - the movement pulling his black t-shirt taunt against his biceps and showing off his bar tattoos. "You playin' twenty questions with my wife?"

"Ooh, shit!," someone called out, neither Beth nor Rio caring or reprimanding him for his language. There were several, "I knew it's," some, "awwws!," and even one eager girl who asked if they could now call Beth 'Mrs. Coach.'

As the revelry continued around them, Beth and Rio just stared at one another - Rio smirking, Beth smiling softly. Only once the bell rang did he push off from the wall to head back to his own classroom, assuming… no doubt rightly so… that his students would show up and take their seats as expected even if he wasn't there to make sure. The chime heralding the morning announcements was playing over the loudspeaker when Rio said, "I'll see you for lunch, yeah?"

"It's a date," Beth called out to his retreating back.

She only looked away once he was completely gone from her sight.

A/N: Although the high school where Beth works is a real high school in Detroit, just its name, location, diversity, mascot, and school colors are factual. Everything else I made up. Also, lyrics to the song "Maps," is featured in this fic, and "Love Gang" by Whethan ft. Charli XCX is referenced. As always, I hope you enjoyed the story!

~Charlynn~