The Math Teacher ~ epilogues
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Julie
A week after I got home to Miami , a big creamy white envelope appeared in our mailbox. The return address said The White House and it was addressed to Ms Julie Manoso-Martine.
Inside was an invitation to the president's daughter's 13th birthday party. It would be held next month, on the 4th of July, at Camp David.
I hope they have fireworks.
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Alyssa/Nikki
He kissed me, said he'd had fun. He said he'd call me.
Someday...
Two months later I opened my front door and there was the man I had not seen since that night. The following day I had received a bouquet of dozens of coral rose buds and chartreuse orchids - with a card that said only Love, Anthony, in the backhand scrawl I associate with left-handed people. Then - nothing.
Now, on this warm June night, he stood on my porch, again with the beaded hair and grungy cargo shorts and an ancient too-small grey t-shirt that said Kiss Me I'm Italian / San Gennaro Festival/ NYC '83 in faded red and green print. He was smiling that cocky I'm so hot smile but he looked dirty, exhausted. And his dark eyes looked haunted.
I could not find words and just stared at him.
Finally he said, " You know that old Bob Dylan song: 'Come in, she said, I'll give you shelter from the storm'…?"
I looked up at the starry night sky and said, "I don't see a storm."
He said, "Please?"
And I opened my door wide and said, "Come in."
the end