Relief was clear on people’s faces as they began wading en masse toward the front doors.
“Oh good, the capes got in, we can stop this futile work.”
My dad was taller than average, and I hoped to be able to make him out, see if he was in the crowd. As the group gravitated toward the doorway, however, I lost the ability to peer over the mass of people. I didn’t see him.
I hung back as people filed out in twos and threes. Mothers and fathers holding their kids, who otherwise wouldn’t be tall enough to stay above water, people still in pajamas or bathrobes, people holding their dogs above water or with cats on their shoulders.
And then there’s Danny, somewhere. All alone. Wondering if Taylor is okay. Wondering where she is, whether she’s made it to a shelter. Whether that shelter has been breached.
Unbeknownst to Danny, Taylor wonders the same about him.
They marched against the flow of water from the stairwell, up the back of the vault door and onto the street.
Mr. Gladly was near the back of the crowd, with a blond woman that was taller than him, holding his hand. It bugged me, in a way I couldn’t explain.
Oh, hi there.
It was like I felt he didn’t deserve a girlfriend or wife. But that wasn’t exactly it. It was like this woman was somone who maybe liked him, heard his side of things, validated his self-perception of being this excellent, ‘cool’ teacher.
Is that what bugs you? The idea of a person who genuinely likes Mr. Gladly?
A part of me wanted to explain to that woman that he wasn’t, that he was the worst sort of teacher, who helped the kids who already had it easy, and dropped the fucking ball when it came to those of us who needed it.
Also he’s terrible at giving homework.
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