The Cardigan

She had asked for and received special permission to be in his classroom after school. She said there was too much noise at home and as far as the library goes, they have recently become more of a hangout than a place of study. Even study hall had its whispers and giggles.

She usually got what she asked for. Being the daughter of the minister residing over the largest church in town had its perks. Everyone thought of her as ‘the girl who couldn’t lie, cheat, steal’ etc. She knew better than they that everyone does all those things, it’s just the religious folks who deny it or go to confess about it. Maybe they choose to see her that way because that’s how they want to see her. Maybe by imagining this were so gave them some kind of hope in humanity. Maybe, But they would certainly never think that the reason she wanted to be alone in his classroom was simply because it was his classroom and contained his cardigan.

She wanted to be alone in his space. To smell his cologne, to think of an excuse to be near his desk so she could see the classroom from his angle and get a sense of him. She didn’t completely understand but she knew enough to know that she had feelings for him. When the other girls were at is desk she found it difficult to breath. When they laughed at his jokes and played with their hair she burned with… anger? Well whatever the emotion the thought was “he’s mine!” She felt the same way yet different when the women at her church acted this way toward her father since her mother had passed several years earlier.

She wasn’t particularly happy that these things were happening to her. As a matter of fact she was starting to find the whole thing somewhat of an intrusion to her life. She knew that what she was going through was a ‘crush’ and that it happens to everyone. At eighteen this was only her third and definitely the most serious. And the most ridiculous. What if he liked her back? He was so old, her father’s age, like mid-forties! The whole fantasy was ridiculous. And what if she caught him, like the dog who, at last, catches the car he’s chasing, what would she do with him?

She fantasized about reading the bible together, which always made her feel happy. Her father took the bible way to seriously but to her it had the same effect as Grimm’s fairy tales. The made her feel emotions and think about things and ultimately gave her funny dreams when she went to sleep. She wanted him to be there with her.

Maybe they could teach Sunday school together, all the kids looking up to them. Melissa and her husband! They’d have two children and he’d read to them Charlottes Web, and he’d cry at the end.

She looked out the window at Mr. Clydesdale’s car waiting for it to be gone so she would know it was safe to retrieve the cardigan.

She knew all about the cardigan. Well, not where it came from, nothing like that, but what it’s life consisted of; the cardigan had, for the last three years that she had known of it, hung on the back of Mr. Clydesdale’s chair. It was as much a part of the room as his desk or the chair itself. Mr. Clydesdale would use it during the colder months, putting it on in the morning while the old school heated up and removing it, usually, about lunch time. As the seasons became warmer he wore it less but he never took it home. That is never except for summer vacation.

The cardigan smelled so wonderful. It was a mixture of Old Spice, chalk dust and what she could only conclude was Mr. Clydesdale’s own scent. But not at the beginning of the school year. Then it smelled like everyone else’s clothes, fabric softener.

The cardigan wasn’t particularly ragged or worn. A couple of the buttons didn’t exactly match, the collar was a little frayed but only needed to be clipped a bit. It had the colors of a cloudy day, dark grey with lighter grey trim and some white threading here and there. And it was soon to be hers.

She was in the classroom for the purpose of stealing the cardigan. She glanced again towards the car in the parking lot hoping not to see it, but it was still there. She just didn’t have the courage to take the cardigan while there was any chance of being caught in the act.

She had plans for what she was going to do with it; Smell it a lot, Sleep with it, that was a given. Sit in her favourite chair with the arms of the cardigan wrapped around her waist in a perpetual hug. Wear it around the house and maybe even, when enough time had passed that she wasn’t afraid it would be recognized, wear it outside.

Melissa was lost in her thoughts when the door to the classroom opened and  to her horror David, Mr. Clydesdale, entered the room. “Well hello there, Melissa.”

“Hi.” Her voice squeaked.

“It’s unusual to see someone using classroom for study hall when there’s only two days left of school.” He said as he took the cardigan from the back of his chair, folded it and stuffed it into his briefcase.

“Oh, ya… I was just doing some review.” She was devastated that he was taking his cardigan. She was so close to completing her mission. She was frustrated with herself for not having had the courage to act sooner. She would have already been halfway home if she had just grabbed it and left.

Melissa realized she hadn’t even taken a book from her bag to study. She was sitting there with nothing open. “Oh God you’re so stupid!” she thought to herself. “He’s going to think you’re a complete moron!”

She fumbled her math book from her pack onto her desk, opened it randomly and pretended to be reading, her eyes rolled up practically to the inside of her forehead so she could keep watch on him.

Mr. Clydesdale was selectively removing items from his desk and putting them into his briefcase with the cardigan.

“At the end of every school year it takes me three days of going home with a stuffed briefcase to get my desk cleaned out.” He said.

She laughed a forced laugh, knowing it sounded forced, then blushed because of it.

“Do you have any big plans for the summer, Melissa?”

“Um, no, um, just bible camp and preparing for college.” Oh God! Why did she mention bible camp? That’s sounds so childish! “I’m a counsellor!” she almost shouted.

“I’m sorry?” said a somewhat surprised Mr. Clydesdale.

“At bible camp, she said, I’m a counsellor.”

“Oh.” He said watching her from his peripheral vision while he tried to stuff several books into his briefcase. He gave up and left the classroom.

A few moments later Melissa heard something outside. It was Mr. Clydesdale. He had opened the trunk of his car and was rummaging around for something. He straitened up with a reusable shopping bag in his hand, put it on the ground by his feet and fidgeted with the contents of the trunk.

“This was it” she thought. She could wait until he was around the corner of the building on his way back in, grab the cardigan from his briefcase and run out of the classroom and out the back door before he made it to the hallway where the entrance to his class was.

“But he’d know what you did!” she scolded herself. “He wouldn’t even realize it until he got home, then he’d think he just misplaced it.”

Mr. Clydesdale was still fumbling in his trunk. Melissa slid her math off the desk and into her bag. Her heart was pounding. He had his palm on the trunk lid and was peering into the trunk, taking one last look before forcing it closed.

Melissa felt like her head would pop off from the force of her heart.

He picked up the grocery bag and started his lanky walk back to the school.

As soon as he was out of sight she bolted for the briefcase, and panicked when she realized it was under everything else. She thought of removing everything, taking the cardigan and putting everything back… “No time!” she screamed inside her head. She spotted a corner of the cardigan, and in one movement pulled it out, turned and ran out the door…hearing the sound of books falling to the floor as she fled.