Studying the Teacher

1

Charlie

The parking lot lights flickered on as the sun dipped below the horizon, reminding Charlie how long he’d been hiding out in his car. What had begun as an attempt to compose himself had quickly morphed into a near panic attack. His breathing exercises weren’t doing the trick this time and his stomach was roiling.

Charlie tightened his grip on the steering wheel and took another deep breath, slowly filling his lungs before letting the air out in a whoosh. His head fell forward, the sound of his heartbeat loud in his ears, nearly drowning out the debate raging in his head. The list of pros and cons he’d created raced through his mind, and the con side was growing at breakneck speed. Maybe there was still time to change his mind—he didn’t haveto go in.

Except he did and he knew it. He’d wanted this for far too long and he’d be thirty in four months. How much longer could he put off something so important? Years ago, he’d promised himself that he’d do it before he hit the big three-oh. Plus, he’d promised Nathan, and letting him down wasn’t an option. It was now or never, so it had to be now.

He lifted his head and eyed the nearly empty parking lot before he leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes. If he was going in, he’d need to stop fighting the tics and surrender. After years of practice, he was able to hold them back for a short time, but never completely. It was impossible. Unfortunately, the more anxious he grew, the stronger the need to tic became. Plus, being around strangers in an unfamiliar setting—or rather, a setting that invoked too many unpleasant memories to count—definitely brought on some serious anxiety.

Better to get the majority out now than waiting until he was inside around strangers. Not that he’d be able to hide them all, anyway.

Once he let go of the steering wheel, his right arm shot out and hit the passenger seat. The grunts erupted as his hand slapped the seat, his left shoulder popping again and again. There were days when the tics wore him out until he was bone-tired, but trying to fight them off was even more draining. In the end, it didn’t matter—the tics always won out. He’d learned to accept it—getting angry about something he couldn’t change only wasted more energy. He grunted a few more times as the demand began to subside. The final tics rolled through him, battering his mind and body, but leaving him with a sense of relief in their wake.

Charlie’s breathing evened out, his heart’s rapid pace finally slowing to almost normal. A quick glance at his phone told him he had only ten minutes left to get inside. He gritted his teeth. Entering a room was always difficult for him. On the one hand, he hated being late—or arriving just in time—because that meant he brought unwanted attention to himself. Showing up after everyone else meant all eyes were on him when he entered. Being the first one to arrive was the ideal scenario, but didn’t always work if the fear of the unknown triggered his anxiety. Then things like sitting out in the parking lot for thirty minutes happened. He shook his head and let out a low chuckle. Shit, his life was exhausting.

Fairly confident he was through with his tics for now, he opened his door and pulled his six-four frame from the too-small, too-bright red Kia Picanto he was driving.

God he missed his Harley, but it was close to being street-ready again. He’d work on it tomorrow after his job, but first he’d stop by Pete’s and see if he’d been able to get in those parts yet.

The brick building loomed in front of him and he shook out his arms, rolling his shoulder, which always hurt a while after some of the more aggressive tics. Charlie took a deep breath and followed the concrete walkway leading to the front entrance of the Linnwood Falls Community Center. He was pretty sure this had been an elementary school at one point. It sure looked like one—reminded him of something you’d see in an old 50’s sitcom. Classic red brick, all one level, and those old tilt-out windows across the entire front of the structure. All but one window was dark and he wondered if that was where he was supposed to go.

He pulled open one of the glass doors and glanced around the lobby. An easel held a sign reading HSE/GED Class, bearing a green arrow pointing to the right. A bubble of panic started to rise in his chest and he forcefully shoved it down as he made his way along the hall.