“Okay okay, we really gotta go now!” Ari says, breaking up the moment.
I extend my hand toward her and bow like I’m met with royalty, she’s my princess. Ari giggles at my antics then takes my hand. We walk toward the car and head to the school.
27
AMARI
“Amari, Are you okay?” Emely asks, approaching me as I come out of the stall in the women’s bathroom.
I nod wiping at the tears that stream down my face. “Yeah, I’m good,” I tell her, knowing that couldn’t be further from the truth. She knows that too.
“Why are you crying?” she asks, closing the distance.
I shrug.
“You know why you’re crying,” she says knowingly.
I do know. I’m just nostalgic. “Have you seen him?” I ask, knowing that the question is pointless. Of course she’s seen him. He’s the best looking guy here.
“Duh. How could I miss him? He’s been gravitating toward you since the moment he walked in. Hasn’t stopped looking back and forth between his daughter and you.”
I’ve been watching him and his daughter since they arrived. When he walked in through the doors, it was hard for me to miss him. He was wearing a tuxedo, like he did back at prom. Except he looks even better now than he did back then, which I didn’t think was possible. His daughter held his hand while wearing a tiara and a pink dress. It was the cutest thing I’ve ever seen and something hit me straight in the chest. It took only seconds to realize what that emotion was, it was a feeling of loss. I saw them and saw a future I could’ve been a part of and suddenly I felt empty. I had to run to the bathroom to stop myself from crying in the middle of the gym.
“It’s just…” I start.
“You wish it was your family?” Emely adds for me and I nod. I don’t know who the little girl’s mother is, and I now know she’s not in the picture, but I wish like nothing else that it had been me. That I was her mom and he was my husband and we raised our family together. I would’ve loved to have that happily ever after.
“I wish…” I start and the moment I open my mouth my tears follow.
Emely closes the distance and embraces me. “Let it out and then pick yourself up. You gotta get back out there,” she says, running her hand through my hair, comforting me like she has many times before.
I clear my throat after a few seconds. “Alright.”
“Are you ready?” She asks me.
“Let me fix myself really quickly then I’ll be good to go!” I tell her. I look in the mirror and try to do my best to fix the makeup I’ve ruined with tears.
I finish cleaning up my makeup and wash my hands. Emely’s phone rings and I watch her pull it out of her boob area.
“Seriously?” I shake my head at her.
“I didn’t bring a purse,” she says, like that’s a reasonable explanation for why her phone is next to her breast.
“I could’ve put it in mine,” I tell her.
“I gotta get this,” she replies, looking at her caller ID. “You’re gonna be okay, Amari?” she asks, already opening the exit door; must be important.
“I will,” I reply then she runs out the door.
I look in the mirror once again. Although I’ve done my best, my eyes are still red. The evidence of my tears is still there. I’ve cried so much the last couple of weeks that I hope the redness and puffiness of my eyes is confused with allergy symptoms. “Did she just say your name is Amari?” a voice says, catching me off guard.
I turn around and find Christian’s daughter standing a couple of feet from me.
“Yes, she did. That’s my first name,” I explain. “Amari Santana, but you kids get to call me Ms. Santana,” I remind her. I remember the first time I heard my teachers’ first names. It was weird. To this day, if I were to see one of them walking around, I’d still call them by their last name. I know it’s customary in places like the south. But I do it because it would just feel weird calling them anything other than that. It’s like when you run into your previous English teacher at a bar… weird.
“That’s interesting,” she says, her little finger coming up to her chin as she stands there.
“What’s interesting?” I ask, feeling like a six-year old is about to tell me that I have the worst first name she’s ever heard.
“My dad named me after someone named Amari. It was the love of his life. I didn’t think it was such a common name.” It’s not.
28
AMARI
With those words shaking everything under me, Ari just shrugs and walks into a stall.
With my mouth still hanging open, I stand there still trying to process what this six year old just said. With just a few simple words, she’s turned my world on its head, like her father has.
I do something I shouldn’t, I wait for her to come out of the bathroom because I want to hear more. Because I’m afraid if I don’t learn more from her, I’ll hunt Christian down and ask him. I want to make sure I heard her clearly before I let my heart take over. I know I shouldn’t ask this little girl, this student, any questions, but I can’t help it. Not when she revealed something so unexpected.
“You’re still here?” She asks, coming out of the stall and heading straight for the sink. She stands next to me and starts washing her hands.
“Yeah… I just wanted to learn a little bit more about this person you were named after.”
“Amari,” she says, reminding me of the name she’d said earlier. “Like you,” she adds, like I would’ve already forgotten. This isn’t something that I can erase from my mind.
“You said your dad named you after her?” I ask again and Ari gives me this impatient look. Like she’s confused as to why I didn’t understand her the first time around.
“Yeah. I talked to him about it on Thursday and he started telling me about his life before I was born. He said he fell in love with this girl named Amari but that he had been a wild child before her.”
“He said that?” I press.
“Yeah… he said when he found out my mother was pregnant with me, he knew he had to give her up. But he loved her so much that when he knew I was a girl, he knew he had to name me after her. Because he loved the two of us the most. So, Amari and Ari. See, it’s like I’m a part of her. The part my daddy got to keep.”
I swallow back the tears that want to spill, afraid if I do, I’ll scare her. “Did he say what happened with this person?” I ask, my voice losing its strength as emotions start to overtake me.
“He said he’s trying to get her back and that he still loves her. That he messed up but that he wanted the best for her and he didn’t think he was that, which is crazy because my daddy is the bestest father in the whole wide world,” she finishes with a smile.
“I don’t doubt that,” I tell her and a tear slips my eye.
“Don’t cry, Ms. Santana,” she says as she finishes washing her hands.
I wipe away the tear. “I’m sorry. That was just such a moving story,” I tell her.