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“Grampy…, will you be my Show and Tell?”
Would you not agree that this would be an unusual way to start an affair?
Yet, with this innocent request from my, not yet seven year old granddaughter Alexis, the next FIFTEEN years of my life were changed forever.
Of course I complied with her request, meeting with her second grade teacher, Mrs. Adams and then telling a story to her class. My story telling was one of the reasons my granddaughter and I were so close. The other and most important reason was that she lived in my house with my wife, her dad and I, her existence the result of a brief liaison between our son and Lexi’s mom.
Mom was no longer in the picture.
The class enjoyed my story so much that I’d been invited back twice more, each story met with laughter and delight. This was especially true of the last one, at the very end of the school year, when my suggestion that her teacher make a list of each child’s, “favorite summer things,” was met with some skepticism by Mrs. Adams.
However, the resulting inclusion of each of her students within the storyline, along with their favorites, had her laughing along with the class. Their open mouthed…, “How does he know that?” looks and questions to Lexi, became her favorite part of the whole experience.
Evidently, Mrs. Adams felt somewhat the same, as she asked me to stay in the classroom that day, while she brought the class to the cafeteria for lunch. When she returned, we sat down facing each other on the only two adult chairs in the room and she made point of telling me how great a kid Alexis was, that she knew the circumstances of Lexi’s upbringing and that she admired what my wife and I were doing. Before I could thank her for the kind words and tell her how much Alexis loved her and her class…, she leaned forward and as her hand reached out and dropped onto my knee, she asked, “Is there any way I could get to know you better?”
While I wasn’t naive or unworldly, her actions and the accompanying question startled me. It also caused me to look at her in a way that I hadn’t up until then.
She was young. She was young…, and attractive. Young and attractive in a, young school teacher way. Attractive without trying, hardly any makeup, her clothes looking like she bought them from, “Pilgrims R Us,” seemingly everything she wore had high necklines, long sleeves and the length was down to the floor.
All that…, and a wedding ring!
Okay, I’ve got control of this.
“Not much to know,” I mumbled, “making a living, taking care of the family and really enjoying entertaining Lexi’s friends and classmates.”
I guess that wasn’t what she expected, or maybe she’d just thrown it out there, because then she said, “Well…, I know I’d love to have you continue to tell my students stories. Please stop in my classroom in September and maybe…,” looking at me hopefully, “we can set up a schedule for you to tell your stories.”
I promised that I would, but…, I was still a little taken aback by the brash nature of her statement. I had no doubt that she’d been ataşehir escort bayan coming on to me and I hoped my reply would show her that I didn’t feel the same.
The final day of school, Lexi brought home a note that was signed by her teacher and all of the students, thanking me for the stories…, and hoping that I would continue, “volunteering,” in that same manner.
My wife thought that was a great idea.
By the middle of the summer, I’d stopped thinking about Mrs. Adams and started thinking about telling stories to Lexi’s third grade class.
Then we took her to the County Fair.
Lots of animals, lots of vegetables, lots of cotton candy and among all of the other things, a display of quilts made by local quilters. We weren’t through the door of the exhibit hall when Alexis shouted, “MRS. ADAMS!” and dashed away.
Because I was still holding the door, the thought, “Quilts… Pilgrim…?” popped into my head.
I got inside just in time to see her leap into the arms of her teacher, the two of them hugging, obviously both just as happy to discover one another.
Mrs. Adams shook my wife’s hand, “Please, my name is Elle,” (pronounced “L”) as Alexis introduced the two of them.
The two of us needing no introduction.
But looking at her…, a “re-introduction,” might have been in order.
White shorts, just long enough to escape the label, “short shorts,” but short enough to show off her tanned and toned legs. A tank top that had a scooped front, cut just deeply enough to show off some nice cleavage and a hint of tan lines over the top of a lacy bra. Throw in her blond highlighted hair that was plied up on top of her head, and just enough makeup to accentuate her tanned face…, she looked sensational!
Still holding Lexi, Mrs. Adams asked, “Is your grandfather still telling you stories every night?”
“Yup,” she exclaimed, “and he has Lily and Janice in them now too!”
“Well I’ll bet they’re jealous that he’s not telling them the same stories,” she answered, “and I’ll bet all your friends in my class wish he was telling them stories too,” giving me a million watt smile.
“Well,” announced Lexi, “he already promised that he’ll tell stories in my class next year…, and my friends will be in them too.”
“Well,” Mrs. Adams huffed in the same tone Lexi had used, giving me a cross look, “I hope he won’t forget my class and how much they’d enjoy hearing his stories.” (I wasn’t ready to start calling her, “Elle”)
My wife then promised that I wouldn’t forget her class and she then introduced us to the other women in her, “Quilting Bee,” and explained the intricacies of the items on display.
Naturally, “Grampy…, I love this one,” had me dropping a considerable sum on a very well done, “Little Girl’s,” quilt, “…, it will match my bedroom!”
“Nice to meet out,” from she and my wife. “Great to see YOU!” with a whirl and a big hug for Lexi. “And I hope I see YOU when school begins,” with a warm shake of her hand, as we walked away, the quilt in my hand.
“Holy shit!” in my head as I escort kadıöy turned to look at her one more time.
Just by the way she’d looked at me…, I knew.
The last thing I needed was to be volunteering in HER classroom!
Luckily, when school started, I was involved in expanding one of my businesses, so I wasn’t around for much of the first few weeks of classes.
Lexi reported to her grandmother that both her new teacher, “…, and Mrs. Adams,” were wondering when I was going to come in and set a schedule for storytelling.
It was the first thing I heard when I got home.
I wrote a note to HER new teacher, offering open dates on my calendar, in the hope of satisfying one of them.
If possible, that seemed to make it worse!
“OH! Forgotten about my class already!” was the, supposedly, tongue in cheek response I got in a note, when Mrs. Adams learned of my offer.
In an effort to forestall further indignant correspondence, I took the courageous step of offering to meet her on, “Parents Night,” knowing that my wife would be with me and whatever “Elle” might have in mind…, could be put off till some later time.
So what happened? I had to go to Parents Night alone. Lexi got sick, gave the cold to her father, and my wife ended up staying home with both of them.
“No problem,” I said to myself, as I skulked through the corridors to Lexi’s classroom, “I’ll be out of here before Adams even knows I’m here!”
Of course, all of the teachers were running late, this the one night when the majority of parents decide to see what the inside of the school looked like and actually showed some interest in their children’s educational process.
I know…. I was being cynical, but I really needed to get out of there! I thought about just sticking my head in the door and telling Ms. Yelle, Lexi’s new teacher, that I’d catch her during the week…, but that might have turned out worse. So I stuck around, hiding in an empty classroom.
Finally, with only one set of parents left, I got in to see Ms. Yelle. We were talking about how I might use my to storytelling talents in a way to increase the children’s interest in reading…, when Mrs. Adams stuck her head into the room.
“Oh oh,” Ms. Yelle groaned, “sorry Mrs. Adams! I’m almost an hour behind schedule and he just got in here.”
Turning to me, “I promised her I’d call when you arrived,” she explained, “and I forgot all about it.”
Turning back to Elle, “We should be through in a few minutes. I promise I’ll have him go to straight to your room!”
I smiled at Mrs. Adams, who was back in Pilgrim mode, this time a full length denim bib dress, a white turtle neck shirt underneath, “I promise I’ll be there.”
“Thank you,” and she was gone.
I was finished with Lexi’s teacher sooner than I hoped, but she wanted to get out of there, the night already more than an hour longer than anticipated.
With no way of dodging Mrs. Adams, less I become”persona non grata,”in the school, I trudged down to her classroom, a hundred reasons why I shouldn’t raging in maltepe escort my head.
My only hope was a couple of more parents waiting…, nope, no one waiting.
I knocked on the open door and stuck my head into the room.
Gone was the chin to toe denim bib dress and turtle neck. In its place was a mid thigh black skirt, royal purple boat neck sweater and black platform high heel shoes. If that wasn’t bad enough, her hair was perfect and she was wearing just the right amount of makeup to glamorize her youthful good looks.
And if that wasn’t bad enough…, the boat neck was hanging very dangerously forward, the sweater now more resembling a cowl top, with no evidence of a bra showing up anywhere!
“It’s about time…,” a proclamation rather than a greeting, as she got up from her desk and started to walk towards me.
“Ahhhh…,” my contribution to the conversation.
She was ten feet from me when I put my hands up.
“Elle,” she interrupted.
“Elle…, is there something you’re trying to tell me here?”
“What would make you ask that?” with another of her killer smiles.
“How about less than half the clothes you were wearing ten minutes ago…, and the missing wedding ring?”
Looking down at her left hand, and then back up at me. “How observant of you.”
“That I noticed the new wardrobe?”
“And the ring!” waving her hand towards the same two chairs we’d sat in a little over four months earlier.
Once seated, she moved her chair far enough forward that our knees were touching.
I moved back a few inches, asking before she could move, “Mrs…”
“Please call me Elle,” now sitting up straight.
“Elle…, what it is you’re trying to do? I mean, I know what you’re trying to do…, but why?”
With that, her whole expression changed. It seemed as if someone or something, had let the air out of her.
The sexpot that had been sitting in front of me…, was now looking very vulnerable and completely unsure of herself.
For some reason, and it wasn’t lust, I reached across and took her left hand in mine. Looking her in the eyes, I again asked, “Why?”
As she broke eye contact, her voice subdued, she said, “This is my sixteenth year of teaching. Every year I’ve given the same, “Show & Tell,” assignment and every year I’ve had my students bring in dolls, pictures of their pets and stories of amusement parks. Knowing Alexis, knowing her story and then having her ask me if she could bring…,” now looking back up at me, “you into class because you are her favorite thing….” She laughed, “I had no idea what I was going to do with you. I’d never had…, well I’ve told you that already. So on the day you were coming in to meet me, my attempt to find out what you could possibly do for, “Show & Tell,” I was expecting a grandfather…, a grandfather like mine,” now a smile, remembering. “Plaid shirt, baggy pants held up by suspenders, smelling like his cigars… and I was listening to her describe you as she was showing me the picture that she’d drawn of you…,” quiet, her eyes glassy, “and then she looked up and her eyes lit up…, and I knew…,” a hiccup, a catch in her voice, “I knew you were standing there…,” Now she took my hand in both of hers, “I fell in love with you the very first second I looked up at you.”
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