Page 191
Story: The Lineman
Mrs. H wiped her eyes. “Aye, he gets that from me.”
I smirked, then sobered a little. “But the most important thing I learned about Mike Albert is that he’s the best damn man I’ve ever met.”
The room quieted.
Mike stiffened slightly beside me.
Even Homer’s ears laid back.
“He’s relentless. Stubborn as hell. Passionate. And maybe the most annoyingly selfless person I know.”
“Babe—”
“Not . . . one . . . word,” I snapped.
Mike swallowed, his fingers twitching on his knee.
I smiled, but my throat was already tight. “I knew, when we drove into the mountains, that I was in trouble. I was still fighting it, but I knew that I had already fallen for him so hard I was scared to breathe. I’d spent my whole life keeping people at arm’s length because I thought love meant losing myself. I thought if I gave myself away, I might never find myself again.”
Mike blinked rapidly, his lips parting.
I inhaled deeply. “But Mike showed me I didn’t have to lose anything to give myself away. He taught me what it means to let go—and to still be whole.”
Mrs. H was already sobbing into a napkin.
Matty looked like he was on the verge of a very ugly cry. Sisi clutched his arm. I was fairly certain, by the bluish tint in her cheeks, she’d been holding her breath.
Rodriguez muttered, “If you make me lose it, I swear to God—”
Mike’s chest was rising and falling fast now, like he was trying to hold himself together. His hands had found his face where they were cupped over his mouth. His struggled to dam emotions desperate to slip free.
I let out a small, unsteady laugh. “And then, when I was hurt—when I was at my lowest—Mike was there. Every single second. The fucker wouldn’t leave me alone.”
Mateo barked an unsteady laugh—something between humor and heartache.
“He didn’t let me push him away. He didn’t let me bury it. He just . . . stayed.”
Mike sniffed, shaking his head. “El—”
I swallowed hard, because my vision was blurring now, too.
God help me, I was actually going to cry.
I cleared my throat. “And then I watched him build something beautiful for the kids at his school, something I wish I had when I was younger, something that will change lives. That first meeting, when we sat there waiting, I saw it all over Mike’s face—the fear, the self-doubt, the worry that it would just be him with Mateo, Jamie, and me in an empty classroom.
“And for a while, I thought he might be right, but then, one kid showed up. And then another. And then more, plus a handful of parents.”
Tears tickled my cheeks. Damn it, I couldn’t stop them.
Mike was a mess.
Mrs. H was blowing snot into her napkin.
“And I watched it happen. I watched kids who walked in terrified, guarded, unsure of themselves . . . start to breathe in that space. I watched Jamie, the kid who started it all, light up like he was finallyhome. Those kids looked at Mike the same way I once did—like they couldn’t believe someone like him existed in their corner.”
“Sweet Jesus,” Matty muttered through sniffles. Omar reached over and gripped his hand, then wrapped an arm around him.
“And most of all? In the midst of the kids and teachers and parents, I watched Mike. I watched him lead, not just as a teacher, not just as some safe adult who cared, but as someone who had been in their shoes.”
I smirked, then sobered a little. “But the most important thing I learned about Mike Albert is that he’s the best damn man I’ve ever met.”
The room quieted.
Mike stiffened slightly beside me.
Even Homer’s ears laid back.
“He’s relentless. Stubborn as hell. Passionate. And maybe the most annoyingly selfless person I know.”
“Babe—”
“Not . . . one . . . word,” I snapped.
Mike swallowed, his fingers twitching on his knee.
I smiled, but my throat was already tight. “I knew, when we drove into the mountains, that I was in trouble. I was still fighting it, but I knew that I had already fallen for him so hard I was scared to breathe. I’d spent my whole life keeping people at arm’s length because I thought love meant losing myself. I thought if I gave myself away, I might never find myself again.”
Mike blinked rapidly, his lips parting.
I inhaled deeply. “But Mike showed me I didn’t have to lose anything to give myself away. He taught me what it means to let go—and to still be whole.”
Mrs. H was already sobbing into a napkin.
Matty looked like he was on the verge of a very ugly cry. Sisi clutched his arm. I was fairly certain, by the bluish tint in her cheeks, she’d been holding her breath.
Rodriguez muttered, “If you make me lose it, I swear to God—”
Mike’s chest was rising and falling fast now, like he was trying to hold himself together. His hands had found his face where they were cupped over his mouth. His struggled to dam emotions desperate to slip free.
I let out a small, unsteady laugh. “And then, when I was hurt—when I was at my lowest—Mike was there. Every single second. The fucker wouldn’t leave me alone.”
Mateo barked an unsteady laugh—something between humor and heartache.
“He didn’t let me push him away. He didn’t let me bury it. He just . . . stayed.”
Mike sniffed, shaking his head. “El—”
I swallowed hard, because my vision was blurring now, too.
God help me, I was actually going to cry.
I cleared my throat. “And then I watched him build something beautiful for the kids at his school, something I wish I had when I was younger, something that will change lives. That first meeting, when we sat there waiting, I saw it all over Mike’s face—the fear, the self-doubt, the worry that it would just be him with Mateo, Jamie, and me in an empty classroom.
“And for a while, I thought he might be right, but then, one kid showed up. And then another. And then more, plus a handful of parents.”
Tears tickled my cheeks. Damn it, I couldn’t stop them.
Mike was a mess.
Mrs. H was blowing snot into her napkin.
“And I watched it happen. I watched kids who walked in terrified, guarded, unsure of themselves . . . start to breathe in that space. I watched Jamie, the kid who started it all, light up like he was finallyhome. Those kids looked at Mike the same way I once did—like they couldn’t believe someone like him existed in their corner.”
“Sweet Jesus,” Matty muttered through sniffles. Omar reached over and gripped his hand, then wrapped an arm around him.
“And most of all? In the midst of the kids and teachers and parents, I watched Mike. I watched him lead, not just as a teacher, not just as some safe adult who cared, but as someone who had been in their shoes.”
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