Three days after the proposal, Michael's life was back to its regular routine: wake up, go for a three-mile jog, check the mail, eat a bowl of flaked cereal with no milk paired with a cup of lightly creamed coffee. He listened to the same radio station that played the same four songs every morning. He laughed at the morning radio host's prank phone call, where he called a hospital and declared he was allergic to his mother-in-law.
Michael was still laughing at the joke as he pulled into the Bissett Preparatory Academy parking lot. He waved at Bill, the parking lot patrolman, as he pulled into the same spot he had parked all year. Bill waved back from his electric wheelchair as he took a bite of his breakfast burrito.
"A little bit cold today, Mr. Robinson, but it should be seventy by lunch," Bill said. A mixture of scrambled eggs and sausage dropped out of his mouth, bounced off his lap, and landed on the ground. He was wearing a bright red M&M shirt with a large white security sticker pressed to his chest.
"Good morning Bill." Michael answered back, "Did you watch the Giants game last night?" The same question he asked every day. Michael never watched the games but knew Bill's life revolved around directing traffic and Giant's baseball.
"Quit pulling my leg, you know they didn't play!" he looked down at the glob of food lying in front of him, tried to lean down, but instead inched his chair forward to cover it up.
"Sharp as always, Bill."
"What am I going to do with you, Mr. Robinson?" he cracked up, taking another bite.
Michael pushed open the front office door, where he was greeted by the office secretary, Mrs. Silverstone. She had a clutter of papers scattered across her desk. "Good morning Mrs. Silverstone. Only three more weeks. Do you have any summer plans?." Mrs. Silverstone had bright red glasses that were pressed high on her thin nose.
"Good morning Mr. Robinson," Mrs. Silverstone looked up from her desk. "I'd be excited too if I didn't have to work summer school, I told my husband I didn't want to, but he said we needed the money." She gave an exaggerated sigh.
Michael smiled and nodded his head. He didn't have the heart to tell her he knew she wasn't married. Michael had once asked Victor about it, and he replied, "She has an imaginary husband, but she's great at answering phones. Answering phones was in the job description, the husband was not."
Michael entered the teacher's lounge to find a group of teacher's huddled around Mr. Finch, who was sulking on the off white couch. He had recently trimmed the edges of his thick mustache, leaving two pale white bars on the outer side of his lips. He had a tiny head that was not proportional to his otherwise full build.
Mr. Finch was known for dressing up as different historical characters when teaching valuable lessons to his sixth grade history class. Today wasn't a dress-up day. A recent videotape a student took in the class had created quite the stir among the local community.
"I was—I was—teaching World War II." His voice cracked, "Who else should I have dressed up as?" Mr. Finch sniffled, as Mrs. Green suggested Winston Churchill.
Michael grabbed a bagel from the teacher's Friday breakfast table. He did his best to stay out of his coworker's business. They already viewed him as slightly lower than themselves since he was 'Just a gym teacher.' It didn't help that he lacked credentials and had gotten the job from his long time relationship with the founder's daughter.
"Michael, my boy!" Victor's hand grabbed Michael's shoulder from behind, causing him to drop the cream cheese-covered knife to the floor. The teachers by the couch got quiet. One let out a groan.
"Good morning sir," Michael knelt and picked the knife off the carpet and put it in the sink.
"Would you please come with me to my office?" Victor smiled broadly and gave the teachers at the couch a nod. "Gregory, if you need a recommendation letter this summer, please reach out to me. One poor outfit shouldn't define a career," He gave a short professional nod and walked out of the room.
The other teachers glared at Michael as he followed Victor. The past few days had been rough for Michael at Bissett Academy. During a school assembly, Victor had announced Michael as his future partner. "He is the most promising individual I've ever hired," Victor declared to the faculty. "If anyone needs help, this just watch Michael, he is an inspiration." This hadn't sat well with the staff who unanimously found Michael uninspiring.
He followed Victor across the elementary office, past Mrs. Silverstone, who was explaining to a parent why the school couldn't have class parties anymore.
"You were there when Jimmy ate the peanut butter cup-cake," she said, using her hands for emphasis. "We were told there would be no nuts at that party either, and it ended up with a child in the emergency room. No parties. There's just too much risk."
Michael was watching the visibly frustrated mother balancing a cake on her right arm while clutching a grocery bag of party favors in her left. Michael's head was turned, watching the parent throw a tantrum when he crashed into what felt like a brick wall.
His heart skipped when he looked up to see Mrs. Garverdink glaring down at him. Her papers were scattered all across the office floor.
Michael's face was a bit red as he knelt down, gathered the papers, and tried his best to reorganize the documents into the proper word search piles. Mrs. Garverdink snatched the stack from his hands.
"Don't let it happen again." She growled.
Michael nodded and let out a nervous smile, "It won't, I'm so sorry, I wasn't watching where I was—." Mrs. Garverdink brushed past him before he could finish. The one thing he appreciated about the large frizzy-haired woman was she didn't do small talk.
Michael was flustered as he approached Victor's corner office. He let out a long exhale before entering the room.
What did Victor want today?