Thanks for waiting, p.1
Thanks for Waiting, page 1
Carolyn Beus
Thanks For Waiting
Copyright © 2024 by Carolyn Beus
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
Carolyn Beus asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
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First edition
ISBN: 979-8-218-33970-8
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Contents
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Dedication
To my husband, Brody,
For being my greatest supporter, my shoulder to lean on, and the man I will love for all eternity.
P.S. I rearranged the kitchen cabinets again, I hope you don’t mind. ;)
Chapter 1
The rain beating heavily on the rusted tin roof of my home fills me with dread. My stomach twists in anxious knots, not just because it is my first day officially as a teacher, but also knowing that nothing good happens when it rains. I was hoping the weather forecast would be wrong or that the rain would magically disappear and I would be granted a sunny day instead like I asked for in my prayers. Such pleas have gone unanswered.
My father watches me check my bag for the fifteenth time that morning to ensure that I have everything I need packed in my bag. I already checked the car this morning to ensure all of my office decorations and supplies are packed in the trunk.
“Caroline, I think you have everything,” my father sighs tiredly.
“You can never be too careful.”
I glance over at my father to notice him shivering even though it already feels like it’s above eighty degrees in the southern Maryland humidity. His next doctor’s appointment can’t come soon enough. My father finished his latest round of chemo last week and it’ll take a month to get the results back from his scans. The results from his last scans looked promising; the cancer hadn’t spread any further and some cancerous spots even shrunk. I’m hoping that these latest scans will show continued improvement.
I pull an extra blanket out of the linen closet and drape it over my father’s thin shoulders. He already has two layers of blankets piled upon him and the pile almost makes his shoulders look as broad as they once did before his cancer diagnosis two years ago.
“Thank you,” my father mumbles as he attempts to hide his trembling shivers while adjusting the third blanket across his shoulders at the same time.
I kiss the top of his head which has lost all of its graying blond hair.
“Mrs. Forbes will be stopping by around lunch to visit,” I remind him while slipping my arms into the sleeves of my raincoat and untucking my dark curly hair from under my jacket.
“Okay, thank you.”
I meet my gray eyes in the reflection of the antique gold-framed mirror by the front door and my lips fall into a frown. No matter how much frizz control cream I put in my hair this morning my hair has managed to make me look like I just got off the set of an eighties rock music video. I don’t have time to fight my hair this morning; I take a hair tie from around my wrist and hastily twist it back into a braid. My hair is still obviously messy, but at least it’s slightly more controlled.
I may be having a bad hair day, but I still look presentable. My favorite pink overall dress isn’t wrinkled and my white sneakers don’t have any dirt spots on them. I look cute and comfortable.
I take a deep breath as I check over the contents of my bag one more time. I know everything is in there - my folders, writing tools, and planners are accounted for - but checking gives me a chance to focus and helps slow my heart that is trying to beat out of my chest.
My phone lets out a chirp and I see my screen illuminate one of the side pockets in my bag. I check my watch and see that I have a few more minutes before I need to leave, just enough time to return a quick text. Opening my messages I see that my best friend, Roxy has messaged me. In all caps, the text reads:
Roxy: CARRIE! HAVE A GREAT FIRST DAY OF WORK! DINNER AT MY PLACE LATER! Mom is making Arrollado de Huaso for dinner to celebrate so you and your dad need to come!
Most people call me Carrie, but my parents have always called me Caroline. The same goes for Roxy, they have always called her by her full name, Roxanna. My parents claimed that they love to appreciate the beauty of someone’s full name.
I smile at Roxy’s message that is oozing excitement through the screen. It has been busy, I haven’t seen Roxy in a few weeks because I’ve been so busy getting ready for my new job and trying to set up care for my father since graduation. It’ll be great to finally catch up while eating pork completely mummified in bacon.
“Hey Dad, Mrs. Soto has invited us over for dinner to celebrate my first day of work. Is that okay with you?”
My dad perks up and turns his attention away from the TV loudly blasting the local news and meets my eyes with a smile.
“I look forward to it!”
I hastily tap my thumbs against the illuminated screen of my phone:
Me: Sounds good! Can’t wait!
Roxy: Sweet!
I check the time in the corner of the screen and see that it’s time to go. Right on schedule. I tell my father goodbye as he continues to watch the news. Before opening the door I throw the hood of my coat over my head and brace myself to step out into the torrential downpour outside.
As the TV blares with a carpet cleaning commercial jingle, I pause and stare at my father. I hate leaving him behind with someone to check on him only once a day, but in-home services are expensive and there’s no way my dad would agree to live in a senior care facility. For now, though, my father is no longer shivering and he’s content watching the latest story about puppies from a local animal shelter being allowed to run free around a local pro-football field.
Most people my age don’t have to care for their parents. It’s a lot of responsibility at only twenty-three - but my parents had me later in life - so making decisions for my aging parents is something I have had to figure out sooner rather than later.
Unfortunately, it has also cost me one of the happiest things that has ever happened to me. I shake my head to banish the memories of sweet whispered words and strong arms around my body to the remote corners of my mind. I sacrificed a lot for my family, but I won’t regret it. At least that’s what I’ll keep telling myself.
I quietly head out of our small two-bedroom home and into the dreaded rain storm. Fat raindrops fall in rapid succession as I carefully maneuver around muddy puddles in our gravel driveway to the family car. A 1993 sedan with peeling burgundy paint. There’s a dent on the back left bumper from one of my dad’s failed attempts at parallel parking when we visited Georgetown in D.C. as a family back in 2000. A stain on the front passenger seat chronicles where my mother unintentionally gave birth to me on the side of the road when my parents got stuck in traffic on the way to the hospital.
A thin layer of sweat already builds across my skin underneath my raincoat in the thirty seconds that I have been outside. I already dread how warm the car must be right now considering that the air conditioning no longer works. When I open the door I can feel the heat radiating out of the car, this is going to be a hot fifteen-minute drive to Prince Frederick since I can’t roll the windows down to air out the car without getting drenched.
I set my bag down on the passenger seat and stick the key into the ignition. As I t
urn the key the sound that escapes sounds like both it and God are laughing at me. The engine isn’t turning over, it’s a dead battery.
“No, no, no! Don’t do this to me!”
I harshly turn the key over and over, hoping that the battery would suddenly decide to have a charge again but it appears that it won’t be so kind. I quickly check my watch and see that if I don’t leave now I’m going to be late. All of my careful planning is frustrated by a dead battery. I even splurged to take the car to the mechanic just to make sure something like this wouldn’t happen.
The car and the rain have been my biggest enemies since the day I was born. First, my parents didn’t make it in time to the hospital to have me, resulting in a NICU stay because the heating also doesn’t work in this car, so I couldn’t regulate my body heat. I broke my wrist when I was five for slipping down the slick stairs in front of my school from a brief afternoon rain storm. Opening night for the first show where I was cast in the leading role, got canceled because of flash flooding. My parents missed my final high school show because the car broke down. My father and I were late to my mother’s funeral. I am hot and running late to work because of the rain and the car. What else could go wrong today?
I take a deep breath and imagine blowing away the intrusive thoughts with my exhale. I can’t keep thinking negatively. Throwing a pity party will just use up time that I don’t have. What I need to do is get my car jumped. I pull my phone out of my bag and frantically call Roxy. She picks up on the third ring and immediately guesses that I’m having car trouble. She’ll be here in five minutes.
Normally I would ask our neighbors for help, however, Mrs. Forbes is just as clueless as me when it comes to cars. I own jumper cables but I have no idea how to use them. My dad would know but he is in no condition to help me.
I just hope that this is the last of unfortunate events for my day. Even better, I’m getting a two-for-one deal so that the rest of the school year goes smoothly. Yes, that must be it, it has to be it.
Roxy swerves into our driveway in her brand-new red pickup truck. She jumps out still dressed in her white tank top and neon green pajama pants with her long wavy hair thrown up in a messy bun. Roxy shoos me away to wait on my small covered porch while she goes to work jumping my battery. Within minutes she has brought my little car back to life and is slamming the hood shut. Roxy jogs under the porch with her clothes completely soaked through from the rain.
“You’re good to go. I’ll stop by school during your lunch break to replace your battery.”
“You don’t have to do that-”
“No arguments, you’re already behind schedule. I’m stealing your clothes and shower as payment, so you’re good.”
“Yes ma’am,” I salute sarcastically before running back to my car.
She didn’t say it, but I could see the look in Roxy’s eyes. If I wasn’t running behind schedule, she would have taken the time to tell me how she told me to not take my car to the mechanic that can’t tell the difference between oil and mud. Come to think of it, she’s probably saving that conversation for lunch.
At the very least my car is now running so that I can make it to work. And while my lunch will come with an extra side of lecturing I won’t have to worry about asking a coworker to jump my car so I can get home later.
While driving to work I take the time to repeat to myself in my head that this morning sucked but my day will be better.
* * *
Prince Frederick, Maryland isn’t that large of a town but there is a lot packed into it. Several popular fast-food joints have been built in between shopping centers. Several grocery and office supply store parking lots are full of parents and students buying last-minute supplies before school starts in two weeks. Seagulls stalk closely to the doors of minivans, hoping to find a stray Cheerio that has fallen out of car seats.
My stomach does an excited flip as I think about how in two weeks I’ll soon start my first year as an official teacher. I’ll be teaching students the greatest subject, theater. Not only that, I’ll be teaching at my old middle school.
As I turn at an intersection, Oaks Middle School immediately comes into view. There are teachers still pulling into the parking lot and groggily getting out of their cars while clutching thermoses containing coffee. As I pull into the parking lot I manage to snag a spot underneath a small Red Maple tree.
A big smile involuntarily grows across my face. All that time in college and student teaching finally paid off. As I walk up to the main entrance my excitement grows. This school was where I realized what I wanted to be when I grew up, a teacher where I get to teach kids the thing I love most, theater. Not only that, I got the job shortly after graduating from college. Sure, my morning may have initially been rocky, but now that I’m here there’s nothing that can ruin my first day. Not to mention the rain has finally stopped. Let’s do this!
As I glance around the campus I take in all of the updates the school has received since I attended. The small playground and some of the exterior structures of the school have been replaced and painted with vibrant colors. The doors have been replaced and there is a bulletin board locked behind a glass box frame near the main entrance. I curiously walk over to the bulletin board and find the calendar for the school year posted, a new club announcement, and then right underneath the calendar is a flier with my picture on it announcing me as the new drama teacher.
I pull my phone out of my bag, take a picture, and text it to Roxy.
A glance at the time on the corner of my screen reminds me that I’m behind schedule. I quickly shove my phone back into my bag and head inside. I already know the principal, but I wonder who my other coworkers will be.
Chapter 2
Sweet, refreshing cool air from the the school’s air conditioning is the first to greet me as I walk through the doors. The scent of lemon floor polish mixed with warm printer ink fills my nose. I take in the clean scent of the school, it won’t be long till the building is filled with the pungent scent of body odor mixed with too much body spray.
The floors are polished to a reflective shine - when I look down I can see my reflection in the tile. I need to focus! I don’t have time to look around, I need to get settled into my office before my first faculty meeting. Careful not to slip on the polished floors that are slick from puddle trails of people walking in from the rain, I pick up the pace towards the administration office and quickly find myself in front of the secretary’s desk.
The school secretary is wearing the brightest orange pantsuit I have ever seen. As her fingers type rapidly across her keyboard I notice that her nails are painted the same bright orange as her suit.
“Good morning, you must be the new drama teacher! I’m Mei, the school secretary, it’s nice to meet you!”
Mei stands from her seat while brushing back the straight black bangs of her chin-length bob.
“Morning, it’s nice to meet you too. I’m Caroline, but I normally go by Carrie.”
Mei suddenly frowns, “Would you like to borrow my brush? It looks like your hair got messed up in the rain.”
“Oh,” I start while digging into my bag to pull out my phone and check my hair in the camera.
When my face pops up on the screen I find that my hair has managed to frizz up even more from the rain and is beginning to fall out of its braid. The first thing I need to add to the grocery list when I get home is a stronger frizz cream. I shut off my screen and smile bashfully at Mei who is already holding out a hair brush.
“Thanks, but unfortunately brushing this will only make it worse.”
Mei tilts her head in confusion. Her bright hazel eyes widen in realization before lowering the brush.
“Oh I see, it’s a perm?”
I shake my head, “No my hair is naturally curly. It just gets frizzy in high humidity. So brushing it will only make it worse.”
Mei pouts her glossed lips sympathetically.
“Bummer. I’m supposed to take your picture to print on your school I.D., I’ll see if I can edit it a little bit before printing so your picture doesn’t look as bad.”
“Thanks, Mei.”
I think.
“Stand over by that wall over there, and I’ll take your picture.”
“I’m late for a meeting with Principal Johnson, maybe I should wait till after.”
