Page 3 of Mr. Principal

Adjusting to my new life had been hard. And sadly enough, I still missed my ex-husband. Well, actually, I’m not sure if I missed Tom or the life he represented. But what did it matter? He had moved on while I was still dealing with feelings that alternated between anger and bitterness. I’d said a lot of things I regretted, but I’d meant them. But knowing that I was still hung up on our divorce while he had easily replaced me made me feel sad and worthless.

I didn’t know what to expect when he eventually moved on and he had moved on quickly. Our divorce was barely final before he married a nineteen-year-old blonde. I was in shock, but I’m not sure why. He was handsome. He was loaded. And everyone, excluding those that knew him really well, thought he was a great guy. A great guy that hadn’t wanted me. I was angry. But I would get over it. Maybe. It had been nearly a year since my divorce and I still hadn’t gotten over it.

I was so deep in thought that I hadn’t noticed my shift had been over for at least twenty minutes already.

“I’ll see you later, Lucy,” I called to my fellow customer service rep as she moved to take my spot.

“Same time, same place,” she called back giving me a wave.

I waved back and headed to the area where we kept our lockers and personal effects. I opened my locker, grabbed my purse and hustled for the exit. I waved to another friend as I did, “I’ll see you later, Patrick.”

Patrick was an older African-American man who worked there greeting customers. I’d heard he’d held that same job for at least twenty years.

“See you later, Dana. Try to not have too much fun tonight,” he said with a smile.

“We definitely don’t have to worry about that, Patrick. I’m not doing anything fun.”

He gave me a teasing smile, “Don’t I know it.”

I laughed at his quick wit and headed out into the fresh air. It was April in Ohio and colder than usual. I was glad I didn’t live too far from work. My parents had given me one of their rental properties as a wedding gift years ago.

Tom had wanted me to sell it, but I hadn’t. Now I was grateful I’d stuck to my guns. I’d rented it out while I’d been married and had managed to pay the mortgage off. After our divorce, it seemed the most logical thing to do was to live in it. No matter how much I’d wanted to stay in our town, it had made more sense to live in the city where life was kind of crazy but a lot cheaper than the ritzy town where I’d lived before my divorce.

It was a ranch style home, modest and practical. I was thankful it belonged to us. The ‘70s wallpaper was hideous, and the bathroom had pink tiles, but I was grateful I didn’t have to worry about a mortgage. If it hadn’t been for that house, I would have probably been still living in a hotel or in a crappy apartment somewhere just barely surviving on public assistance.

I pushed those thoughts out of my head as I pulled up to the school and saw Meredith, my daughter, standing there with a tall man with long hair. As I pulled closer, I realized that I knew the man she was with all too well. His name was Carter Knight and once upon a time, before I’d made a mistake that I would always regret, he had been my best friend.