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  “Hi, Mr. Montes,” said Mirna, waving happily at him. She was one of Lorenzo’s past star students, and she was about to enter the classroom across from Lorenzo’s one.

  “How are you doing, Mirna?” he greeted, stepping up to her from where he was standing, outside his room. “How was your summer?”

  “Great, Mr. Montes,” she chirped enthusiastically. “How was yours?”

  “Great. How are your studies?”

  “I’m doing well. I’ve got College Prep English here.”

  “You’re right across the hall from my class,” Lorenzo said, smiling. “Pop in if you need a recommendation for your college applications.”

  “Thanks, Mr. Montes,” she gushed. “I sure wish I had you for History again.”

  “I’m sure you’ll do great in whatever class you’re in.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I’d better get back to my class and let you get in yours. It was nice seeing you. Remember what I said about the recommendation—all you have to do is ask.”

  “I will,” she assured, stepping into her classroom. “I’ll do that.”

  “Good,” he said as he was about to turn around and head back to his own room.

  “Hi,” a voice behind him said.

  Noticing that he was standing in front of the door, Lorenzo quickly stepped out of the way. When he looked to see who the greeting had belonged to, it wasn’t a student. He flagrantly stared at the owner of the voice. He had forgotten all speech.

  “Hi,” she repeated, extending her hand. “I’m Valeria Loya.”

  Lorenzo found his voice and cleared his throat. “I’m Lorenzo Montes.” He extended his own hand and shook hers. Valeria’s hand was firm but the softness of her skin reminded him of a soft flower petal.

  “I’m the new English teacher,” she said, as if she expected him to answer back.

  “I teach History across the hall from you.” Her hair was the color of midnight and so curly, long and inviting that he had to subvert the urge to touch it.

  “I’ve always loved History,” she said, smiling, her dark almost-black eyes smooth like velvet and with a glimmering shine found in very deep, very alive ones.

  "Excuse me, but have we met before?" he blurted. He silently chastised himself after the question was out of his mouth for asking something that resembled a pick-up line.

  You look familiar to me too. Maybe at a teacher's conference?"

  “Maybe . . . I’ve got to get to my class,” he said, abruptly moving away. “It was nice meeting you.”

  When he stepped inside his room, it was already full. Those students who had never seen him before grumbled. They kicked themselves for having gotten stuck with a teacher who judging by his impenetrable look had to be stern and unavailable—a curmudgeon. Besides, shouldn’t this guy be in the military instead of teaching history to a bunch of rebellious teen-agers at a salary leaving much to be desired?

  “Are you okay, Mr. Montes?” the brother of one of his past students asked.

  “I’m fine,” Lorenzo said, giving him a reassuring smile as his eyes shot to the glass slat on his door. He could catch glimpses of the new teacher across the hall through it.

  “You seem out of it.”

  “I’m fine,” Lorenzo insisted.

  As the bell rang, the eclectic buzz in the class included some deep groans. Lorenzo stood in front with an authoritative stance, patiently waiting on their attention. The students, expecting him to use his tall, strong figure to impose order, were surprised that all he did was stand quietly next to his desk. One by one they stopped chattering and looked at the silent man in front of them with curiosity.

  “Ready to start class?” he asked, his voice firm and confident.

  “We’re here because we have to be,” stated a young man, guffawing. Noisy laughter erupted from the students.

  Lorenzo chuckled. “Thankfully or I wouldn’t have a job.”

  The laughter reached a higher pitch and suddenly the tight atmosphere changed to one of ease. He had them introduce themselves one at a time and asked them questions about themselves.

  What’s your favorite color?

  Where were you born?

  What do you like to do in your free time?

  What’s your favorite music?

  These questions led to discussions amongst each other. One of the students asked him why he was asking them all that. No other teacher had ever done it.

  Lorenzo answered simply, “This is a History class and not only a world’s history or a nation’s history is important. Your own history is important too. All those questions I asked you are part of what makes up your history, what makes up your story.”

  By the time the bell rang to go on to their next class, his students felt comfortable in the learning environment he had created and felt that they mattered—each and every one of them.

  Lunch hour came very quickly since Lorenzo had spent the morning getting to know his students. During that time, his eyes had strayed several times to the long glass slat on his door to take a peek across the hall. He had never been this curious about a new teacher. When the last of his students filed out, he quickly grabbed his cell phone.

  “Hi, sweetheart,” the voice of Kate on the other end said when her receptionist had put him though.

  “Hello, Katie,” he returned.

  “What a pleasant surprise,” she said cheerfully. “You never call me during the day.”

  He cleared his throat nervously. “I just felt like hearing your voice.”

  “That is so sweet, Enzo. How’s your first day back at school going?”

  “Fine, just fine. How are you?”

  “I’m good.”

  A few minutes after he put the cell back in his pocket, Billy Woods, a fellow history teacher, popped his head in the classroom. “Let’s go to lunch.”

  “I wasn’t going to eat today,” rushed Lorenzo.

  “What?”

  “I’m staying in here.”

  “Is this a joke?” asked Billy.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You eat like a starving quarterback.”

  “I’m not hungry today,” Lorenzo insisted.

  “Come on, Lorenzo. Stop playing around. Let’s go eat. They’re serving enchiladas today—your favorite.”

  Looking around the cafeteria and releasing a relieved breath, Lorenzo sat down with Billy at the usual place. Billy chatted about his dislike for his new classroom when Valeria stepped in. Most people glanced at her, her stunning presence being so absorbing. Lorenzo tore his sight away from where she was standing after getting her meal. Billy waved at her.

  “Come sit with us,” he told her. Lorenzo choked on his enchiladas and had to take a huge gulp of milk.

  “She’s coming over,” whispered Billy. “She’s the new English teacher. I can’t believe I got her to sit with us.”

  Chapter 5

  “Hi,” Valeria said brightly as she sat down in front of Lorenzo. With this being her first day, she was glad to have someone to sit with during lunch.

  “Hi, Valeria. Couldn’t resist the enchiladas, huh?”

  “No, they’re my favorite.”

  “They’re Lorenzo’s favorite too,” Billy stated and then a realization hit him. “Where are my manners? This is Lorenzo Montes and he teaches—“

  “We’ve already met,” Lorenzo said dryly, avoiding looking at her.

  “Yes, our classrooms are across from each other,” stated Valeria.

  “So, how has your first day been going, Valeria?” asked Billy, a huge smile on his lips.

  “Wonderful. I’ve had a great morning.”

  “Really?” Billy asked. “I always hate the first day back after a great summer of not having to deal with constant whining, late papers, and bad grades.”

  “I know teaching has its special challenges,” expressed Valeria.

  Billy nodded strongly. "You can sa
y that again."

  “But there’s not just the down side to teaching. It also has many rewards,” she asserted..

  “It sounds like you love to teach,” stated Billy.

  "This may sound hokey—remember I teach Literature—but to me teaching is like a walking on a pathway strewn with flowers. Sometimes there are thorns but ultimately it's beautiful."

  Lorenzo eyed her carefully as if taking her words in.

  “I’ve got to admit I’m a little burned out. I’ve been doing this for fifteen years,” Billy informed her.

  “I’ve been at this for about seventeen years and sometimes the challenges get to me, but I can't imagine doing anything else.”

  “You sound like my friend here,” he said, indicating Lorenzo.

  “Your heart is in teaching too?” she asked, her beautiful face vividly open.

  He stared at her for a few seconds and then cleared his throat before speaking. “Yes,” he managed to say.

  “Where were you before you came here?” asked Billy.

  “I was at Marshall.”

  “Why did you come here?” Billy blurted incredulously, his face contorted.

  Valeria frowned at Billy and then got her bearings back. “This may sound really out there but I just felt I was meant to come here.”

  “How is that?” Billy asked curiously.

  “This is a very poor district, and I wanted to see if I could help.”

  “That’s very noble of you,” stated Billy. “You sound like my friend here.”

  Valeria’s eyes anchored themselves on Lorenzo. “You feel like that too?”

  Lorenzo’s eyes nervously darted but ended up staring into Valeria’s intense gaze. “The poorer districts don’t have the books or technology of the richer districts, but I believe that the human touch is really what makes the most difference so here I am, trying to make some sort of a difference.”

  Her eyes, growing rounder, dug deeper into his. “What a great sentiment,” murmured Valeria.

  “Yes, isn’t it?” Billy said wryly. “Sometimes it’s hard being friends with such a hero.”

  “I wouldn’t call me a hero,” stated Lorenzo, annoyed.

  “Heroes aren’t just caped crusaders in movies,” Valeria said lightly.

  “So you teach English,” Lorenzo commented, changing the subject. “That’s got to be challenging teaching the movie generation about literature.”

  Valeria smiled. “Actually, it isn’t as challenging as it seems.”

  “Really?” asked Lorenzo.

  “I relate characters in literature to movies, and they swallow it all up. They start to love literature because it makes sense to them.”

  “That’s an interesting approach,” stated Lorenzo, admiration in his voice.

  “Yes, very creative,” agreed Billy.

  “I try to be out-of-the-box when it comes to teaching,” she commented, swaying her hand to the side in a sweeping motion.

  “What a ring,” stated Billy, staring at the sparkling diamond on her finger.

  “It’s my engagement ring.”

  “You’re engaged?” asked Billy with disappointment coloring his words.

  “Yes,” she murmured, looking away from Lorenzo.

  Standing abruptly up, Lorenzo grabbed his tray. “I’ve got to go. You’ll both have to excuse me.”

  Billy stared at him, puzzled. “What?”

  “I’ve got papers to grade during my lunch hour.”

  “Papers?” asked Billy. “This is the first day of school.”

  Lorenzo nervously shifted. “I handed out worksheets today that they turned in at the end of the period.”

  “On the first day?” asked Billy incredulously.

  “Yes, I’m a terrible taskmaster. It was nice talking to you, Valeria,” he said, stepping away.

  As soon as he was gone, Billy turned to Valeria. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what got into him. He’s usually a pretty nice guy.”

  “I don’t think. . .”

  “Yes?”

  “I don’t think he likes me,” she said, finally finishing her sentence.

  “What?”

  “He acted as if he didn’t like me.”

  “Why wouldn’t he like you, Valeria? Besides, he just met you.”

  “I don’t know,” she sighed, “but your friend gave me the distinct impression that he didn’t like me."

  Chapter 6

  “You’ve been very tense,” stated Belisaria matter-of-factly. Kate’s receptionist had always been direct and no nonsense.

  “I’ve had a lot on my mind,” Kate explained.

  “Come have dinner with Gary and me. We’re going to Leonardo’s Bar and Grill.”

  “Leonardo’s Bar and Grill?” She wished she never had to hear the name Leonardo again.

  “You know, it’s the restaurant on the top floor. Come with us.”

  “I wouldn’t want to be a third wheel,” Kate asserted.

  “”Don’t be silly. We’d love your company.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Positive.”

  Enzo could do without her for one evening, she thought wryly. Maybe, just maybe, he’d even miss her. “Okay, I’ll go.”

  By the time they stepped out of the elevator to Leonardo’s Bar and Grill, Gary was already there, patiently waiting for Belisaria. They had met in the building since he was a lawyer in one of the offices. Kate had always liked the well dressed and reserved boyfriend of her receptionist.

  “I hope you don’t mind,” Kate told him. “I tagged along.”

  “The more the merrier,” he stated jovially.

  As soon as they found a table they liked in the seat yourself facility, a waiter promptly took their order—Rum and Cokes for all three and different types of steaks for each. Kate wasn’t sure how much she’d be able to eat, but she’d at least take a few bites.

  “This is a great place,” stated Kate, eyeing the unobtrusive restaurant. The atmosphere was quiet with muted lighting and the décor an earthy brown.

  “You’ve never been here?” Gary asked incredulously.

  “No.”

  “But you’re in the building.”

  Kate shrugged her shoulders and laughed lightly. “It’s just one of those things.”

  By Kate’s third drink, she could feel her world in a fuzzy, emotional state. Belisaria eyed her employer with concern. She had never seen Kate like this—never. She knew for a fact that the good doctor rarely drank, that was why she was tipsy on only her third drink.

  “Are you okay, boss?” Belisaria asked, her hand on Kate’s arm.

  “Fine,” blurted Kate. But the truth was that seeing two people in coupledom like Belisaria and Gary had rattled her equilibrium which unfortunately wasn’t too balanced these days. “I’m doing as well as someone like me can do—someone as terrible as me.”

  “What did you say?” asked Belisaria, thinking she hadn’t heard correctly.

  “I’m a horrible person,” Kate announced, relieved that she had finally said it out loud after the thought had implanted itself in her head.

  “Kate,” Belisaria said, having gotten over the initial shock of what her boss had asserted, “I don’t know why you’re saying what you’re saying. You’re an awesome person—a wonderful therapist, a conscientious employer, a—”

  “None of that matters,” Kate insisted. “I’m a selfish, unworthy human being.”

  “It’s the drink talking,” interjected Gary.

  Kate fervently shook her head. “I wish it was only that.”

  “Why are you saying such ugly things about yourself?” asked Belisaria.

  “Because it’s true.”

  “But—"

  “I’m keeping two soul-mates apart,” she blurted. “Two people who have a past together they don’t know about.”

  “I don’t understand,” said Belisaria, confused.

  “It’s a secret.”

 
“A secret?” asked Gary.

  Kate nodded. “I can’t tell you about it. I wish I could, but I can’t.”

  “You can’t?” Belisaria asked.

  “It’s nothing against you. I know what a great person you are.” Kate meant every word of it. In addition to Belisaria being an excellent receptionist, she also did volunteer work. She taught GED classes to those less fortunate.

  “Thanks,” Belisaria responded.

  “Please don’t take it personal that I can’t tell you my secret.”

  “I don’t . . . Believe me,” she expressed wryly, “Like everyone, I have my own secrets, and wouldn’t dream of invading someone else’s privacy."

  “This secret is so huge,” Kate mumbled. “You’re probably better off not knowing. I wish I didn’t know about it—I really do.”

  By the time Kate arrived home that night, Enzo was already fast asleep in their bed. Since Belisaria and Gary had had only one drink each, the rest sodas, they made sure she got to her house with Belisaria driving her there and Gary following them in Kate’s car.

  The moonlight filtered in through the thin curtains, and Kate gazed at Enzo. His handsome silhouette completely asleep, completely out of her reach as it was even when he was awake. A sharp pang pinched her heart.

  I doubt if he missed me tonight, she said to herself. I doubt it very much.

  With the alcohol still coursing through her system and unleashing feelings she had kept hidden in dark corners, sleep was impossible. A stream of violent thoughts like electric shocks vibrated in her head.

  He doesn’t love me . . . He’s never loved me . . . Never told me even once, just once, that he’s head over heals for me . . . only that he cares for me . . . CARES FOR ME—but not love like a passionate couple . . . Like . . . Like Leonardo and Valentina . . . He’s never wanted to get married . . . He’s never wanted children . . . Not with me! . . . Would he do it with Valeria? . . . Would he?!

  The anguished pain the thought gave her was almost too much to bear, too raw, too overwhelming.

  I can’t let him go!

  I just can’t.

  Chapter 7

  “How was your first day, Val?” Leonel asked her at The Revolutionary Taco where they were having dinner. His impish face smiled brightly at Valeria. She couldn't help thinking about her mother's strange aversion to him, calling him a peacock wannabe.

  “It was good,” she answered, across from him in their favorite booth.

  “You like the new school?”