Double Take
Chapter 15
“But, honestly, did it ever hold any pleasure?”
—Amanda Carlson, Danger’s Cure
BY THE END of the weekend I was exhausted, angry, and I hated math. I had a double degree in math and engineering and I was sweating out finishing a freshman high school algebra course. I didn’t dare rush it and make a mistake. I couldn’t risk it.
“Is it really worth what you are putting yourself through?” Mom asked at dinner Saturday night. I guess everyone was feeling the tension. Mom and Dad hadn’t really had much to say about my problem except Dad’s one wry comment.
“Were the instructions written in English? There’s so damn much stuff coming in from China these days that you can never understand what the directions say.”
“If I have to sit through one more of that woman’s classes, I’ll kill myself,” I muttered.
“J! Please!” Em cried. I was almost knocked out of my chair when she tackled me. Pey hitting me from the other side is all that kept me upright. Both girls were crying.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean it. Please don’t cry, Em. I would never do that to you again. Never. Please believe me.”
“Don’t. Please don’t even joke about it. We almost lost you,” she sobbed.
“I won’t. I promise, Em. I promise, Pey. Nothing will ever get me like that again. I promise. I just have a buttload of work to do. I’m wearing a bit thin.”
“Well, I’ve tried to be sure you were no stranger to hard work,” Dad said. “Let’s get the table cleared so you have your workspace again.”
“Do you need anything else, Jakey?” Mom asked. I almost answered that I could use a double scotch but I was pretty sure they didn’t have any Cardhu in the house. Single malt Highlands were my favorite. A cigar would help, too.
“I could use another pencil if anyone has one. Dinner was really good, Mom. Thank you.”
“Don’t work too late, dear. Fatigue will cause senseless mistakes.”
Pey brought me a whole pencil box along with her sharpener. And a kiss on the cheek. I hugged her and she padded off to bed.
About midnight, I’d done all I could do without some sleep. I’d finished the unit on quadratic equations, which I didn’t find difficult. But I still had all the exercises for exponential equations and functions, radical expressions and equations, and rational expressions and equations to go. I scooped my half-dozen Coke cans off the table and took them to the recycling bin. Then I dragged myself into bed.
Em was in my bed. I think she was asleep when I walked into the room but when I slipped beneath the sheet, she put her arm around me and kissed my shoulder. She was naked and I tried to feel a stirring below but I was just too tired.
“I’m here for you, J. Whatever you need. I’ll just hold you if you want.”
“Why are you so good to me, Em? I know I was a lousy brother the past few years. But you are still here. Still loving me.”
“You’re so tired, I thought you might have a bad dream tonight. I wanted to be here with you. To make sure you knew I’d never let go.”
I found her lips and kissed her goodnight. Then I promptly fell asleep in her arms.
When I woke up in the morning, Em kissed me again before she worked her way down to take my cock in her mouth. I pulled and tugged at her until she finally relented and planted her pussy on my lips. I’ve always been that way. I couldn’t fully enjoy just lying back and letting a girl do me without reciprocating. It just didn’t seem right to me. And I got so much more pleasure out of it when both my cock and tongue were being stimulated.
And Em’s pussy was incredible. I’d touched it and frigged her to orgasms but I’d never tasted her before. It was beautiful. I thought that I could die happy with my face between her legs. This was my idea of paradise.
She must have thought it was pretty good, too, because she drenched my face with her come a few seconds before I filled her stomach.
“Why don’t you grab a shower and I’ll get some breakfast on before you start working again.”
“I love you, Em.”
“Of course. I love you, too.”
Of course, I didn’t go to church with the family. They didn’t come back for lunch. Instead, the bell rang and when I answered it, a delivery boy handed me a pizza. Scrawled on the box were the words, ‘From Mom and Dad.’ I was careful not to spill any tomato sauce on my workbook.
That evening, I worked through the first practical exercises in the entire book. I guess they figured they should answer the age-old question, ‘When am I ever going to use algebra?’ I figured at the rate the class was going, no one else would get that far before the end of the year. They’d still have the question as they dropped their last worksheet in the basket by the door and filed out.
There were four problems in this unit and they really did test your knowledge. The first was to draw the property lines in a neighborhood and figure the square footage of each lot. The second problem dealt with scales and profits for a small business. Third, I had to figure the area and volume of an architecture project. And finally, I was asked what factors were necessary for a small business to expand into an enterprise. I finally finished before the TV show the rest of the family was watching was over and went to bed.
I had a sense that Em crawled in bed next to me late at night but I was too far gone to respond. She wasn’t in bed with me when I woke up.
I was standing outside Mr. Gieseke’s office when he got there at seven-thirty. He actually smiled at me and took the workbook. I don’t know if I expected him to sit down and grade it on the spot or what, but I didn’t expect him to send me to the library.
“Miss Lustig will proctor the first semester final exam this morning,” he said. Oh, shit. I forgot all about the tests. “You can take the second semester final this afternoon.” I nodded.
“Then I can move up?”
“Well… I’m still working on it. I have to find someone who’s willing to take you in his class that doesn’t interfere with any of the others. It will at least get you out of algebra.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Go. Ace the final, please.”
I went. I was pretty sure I aced it.
One of the things I liked about math and engineering was that the answers never changed. I started with a slide rule and it was easy to get the answers once you learned the function. And as I grew older, I learned more applications for what I knew but what I knew didn’t change. You’d think other subjects would be like that, too, but few were. We didn’t even have a Human Geography class when I went to school. And Health was… bizarre. In 1952, nine out of ten doctors recommended the relaxing effects of smoking. As to English, well, there were rules, sure, but the twelve tenses weren’t even taught in composition class now. Present, past, and future were all that were needed and we were being taught to use active voice instead of passive. Everything else was about how well you could manipulate the language and when to ignore the rules completely. “I before e except after c or when your foreign neighbor Keith leisurely receives eight counterfeit beige sleighs from feisty caffeinated atheist weightlifters. Weird.” All the subjects but math were filled with exceptions.
I finished the exam in time to get to Health and Wellness and the day turned almost normal. At lunch I spotted a worried-looking Rebeca at ‘our’ table, looking around. The fact that her face lit up when I hobbled across the cafeteria made my day.
“Where were you?” she demanded when I dropped my crutches under the table. “I was worried. Were you sick?”
“Sick of school,” I said. “Sorry I missed you.” I explained everything that had happened and she sat with her mouth open getting almost as angry as I’d been.
“That is so unfair!” she shouted. A few people turned to look at her and she hushed her tone. “We should start a student walkout to protest. She should be made to take the finals the same way you are.”
“Come on, now, Doodlebug. Who in the whole school would care if I get out of a class that they all had to endure?”
“Doodlebug? Are you making up more pet names for me? What was wrong with Beca? Or my damned name, Rebeca, for that matter.” She seemed steamed that I used a little nickname. I hadn’t thought a thing about it. We always called the kids cute nicknames. Doodlebug. Snickerdoodle. Munchkin. Kitten. I could scarcely tell her that.
I decided the truth was best—or at least a version of it that wouldn’t get me thrown in a looney bin.
“Rebeca is a really hard name for me,” I said.
“You pronounced it okay.”
“Beca…”
“I’m sorry. I’ll shut my smart mouth and listen.”
“I knew a Rebecca who was very special to me.”
“Two-c or not two-c?”
“Two-c. I lost her and never really recovered from it.”
“Was she your first?”
I looked at my… friend. It was almost like she was reading something deeper into my story than I was trying to expose. Yes, Rebecca had been my first. My first wife. The mother of my children. And my first real loss.
“She was… like a grandmother. Only when her image flits across my eyes I remember her as young and beautiful. I think she must be an angel now.” My Rebecca was a grandmother. She got to hold our granddaughter in her arms before the cancer took her. I was devastated and alone, facing approaching retirement without the woman I thought would share it with me. It had been two years later—two years of rattling around the house and working more hours than I had when I was a fresh college grad—that my daughter Susan introduced me to Renie. I loved Renie intensely and we did most of the things Rebecca and I had planned. But I will always miss Rebecca.
“I’m sorry, Jacob. I guess if it’s that painful to you, you can call me whatever. Just, like not in public, okay? I’m trying to be all grown up here and you make me feel like a little girl.”
“Well, we wouldn’t want that now, would we? I’ve got to get to gym and apologize to Jock for the way I behaved on Friday. Then I need to go back to the library and take the second semester final. Mr. Gieseke promised to grade them tonight. He’s says he’s trying to find someone who will take me in a geometry class.”
“Well, good luck. Remember, Thursday we’re talking to Mr. Richards after school. Don’t forget to tell your sister you need to stay late.”
“Thanks for the reminder, Bug. I’ll talk to her tonight.”
“Ick. Do you have a dictionary of pet names for girls? Scratch that one out of it!”
Jock was understanding when I explained what the problem had been on Friday and how upset I’d been.
“I’ve had teachers like that,” he said. “Some of them consider themselves to just be babysitters. Some started out enthusiastic and were beaten down by the system. They get pushed into different subjects than their expertise and are just in over their heads. I had a class once where every single student in the room could have taught it better than the teacher.”
“I always figured teachers had pretty cushy jobs. You work nine months and get three months of vacation.”
“Ha! We work ten months and have to stretch the pay across twelve. We’re constantly scrambling to get little extras. Like coaching a team after school pays a premium over what we get during the school day. In a way it’s stupid. There’s a second grade teacher putting in just as many hours preparing her classroom and lessons so she can keep a bunch of seven-year-olds interested and learning as the guy who teaches phys ed and coaches football after school. But she doesn’t get the premium pay for afterschool activity because preparing the classroom and teaching plan are just part of her job.”
“Wow! I just never thought of it that way.”
“We just have to put up with the ones that can’t teach and treasure the ones that can. Now let’s get you back on track with your program and try to keep your anger and frustration off the weight machines.”
That was an eye-opener. I still hated Freeman. The school should monitor whether a teacher is competent in the classroom. But maybe she was an academic example of the Peter Principle—moved up to her level of incompetence. But it also explained why the minuscule rules were so important. Those were things minuscule minds could fathom.
It also got me thinking of my behavior and when I got to the library it was more difficult to concentrate than it had been earlier. Being angry and offended worked this time but I’d approached Freeman and Gieseke like an angry parent instead of a put-upon teen. I think they cut me some slack because I was new and still recovering from the accident. They weren’t going to buy that act again.
“Well, how’d you do, J?” Em asked brightly.
“Ugh. I feel like I’ve been put through the wringer.”
“What’s that?”
“Just something that… you know…” Shit! There wasn’t a single person I knew who had ever even seen a wringer washing machine. “You know… like when you wash your panties in the bathroom sink and then wring the water out of them with your hands. I feel like all the juice has been squeezed out of me.”
“You have no business watching me wash my panties in the bathroom sink,” she growled and then giggled. “Unless I’m trying to wash your come out of them. Too bad you’ve got no juice left to be wring out, though,” she sighed. “I guess it’s just as well since Francie has a checkup this afternoon.”
“I’d be too tired to give her what she wants anyway. She can be pretty exhausting.”
“Yeah. I’d like to get exhausted like that sometime,” she muttered. “I mean… I’m not suggesting anything, J. The other night was good. In fact, it was spectacular. I don’t think I’ve ever come that hard. But baby, we really have to… be careful… slow down. I’m always going to be there for you but it really shouldn’t be in that way.”
“Em, I love you and I get what you’re saying. I don’t ever want to hurt you, sister.”
It would never have been an issue in V1’s life. I still couldn’t figure out what had happened that brought V2 and Em so close together. So close that he couldn’t stand it and tried to kill himself. I had a feeling it was related to the nightmares but I couldn’t figure out how.
I groaned inwardly when Mr. Gieseke introduced me to my new geometry teacher. “Jacob, this is Mrs. Stierwalt. She has agreed to admit you into Plane and Solid Geometry as a probationary student.” This lady was even older than Freeman. She didn’t try to hide her gray hair and wore little makeup.
“Welcome, Jacob. We have some catching up to do.”
“It’s nice to meet you Mrs. Stierwalt. I hope to do well in your class.”
“We’ve had to shift your schedule a bit,” Mr. Gieseke said. “Your geometry class will be right after lunch. I’ve talked to Mr. Anderson and he’s agreed to move you to first period for your workouts. You’ll be on a slightly tighter schedule since you’ll have to get to your next class instead of the library after gym. I think you can handle it, though.”
“Thank you, Mr. Gieseke. I appreciate all you’ve done to help me.”
“Don’t let me down.” He left me in the care of Mrs. Stierwalt. Apparently, her prep period was the last period of the day and I’d be heading home when we were finished.
“I’m not an easy teacher, Jacob. Is that the name you prefer to be called or do you prefer Jake?”
“Jacob, ma’am. I’ll try not to be a difficult student.”
“You mean more difficult than you’ve been.” There was a hint of a smile around her wrinkled lips and for just a moment, I wondered what it would be like to kiss them. Damn! Eighty-year-old V1 was poking his head out and thinking what a delightful young morsel this sixtyish woman was. “Being in the wrong class can be very frustrating, I understand. Before your frustration boils over in my class, I would appreciate it if you talked to me. I’ve looked at your workbook and tests and I’m impressed. Do you plan a career in mathematics?”
“Not really, ma’am. I just want to get my math requirements out of the way so I can focus on writing. I’d like to major in English.”
“Donna Levy has her hooks in you already, does she? Now repeat after me: Would you like fries with that?” I laughed. There was no way she could imagine how many times I’d used that line with my children and grandchildren when they chose to major in stupid subjects like Sociology or Women’s Studies. “Now. You are eleven weeks behind with seven weeks left in the semester. Do you think you can catch up?”
“I couldn’t get the school curriculum while I was laid up, but after I finished the Algebra workbook—the first time—I downloaded a homeschool geometry book. I’m not all the way through it, but I made it up through most of the functions of triangles before I got back to school.”
“Good. We’re just in the section on indirect proofs. That’s Unit Five in the textbook. By the end of the week, if you feel like you are in step with the class, I’d like you to start catching up on the previous worksheets. This week, just focus on getting in step with the class. If you have difficulties, I believe you are routinely free during this period and you can consult with me. If you need a tutor, I have a couple of seniors in my Calculus class who are very good and could help.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Stierwalt. I promise to do my best work for you.”
“I expect no less. Here is your textbook and workbook. Start with tomorrow’s assignment, please. I want to see where you really are.”
“In pencil,” I muttered. She actually laughed.
“There are reasons for that beyond seeing if students can follow directions,” she said. “You might think that you never make mistakes. But even if you get the answer correct, I’ll bet that I can show you at least two other routes you could take in getting there. Some of your algebra solutions, I noted, got the correct answer but were antiquated techniques. When it comes to SATs, they expect you to use current best practices. Let’s get you there. Am I clear?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
That was refreshing. Not only did she have a plan, she actually thought she could teach me something. I was going to have to look her up online and find out what her background was.
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