But just when I thought it might be time to quit — something happened.
I was walking to my car, half-frozen fingers fumbling with my keys, when I heard someone call out:
“Ms. Turner?”
I turned. A man was walking toward me from the student parking lot. Tall. Broad shoulders. Slight limp in his left leg.
It took me a moment.
“Jamie?” I asked.
He smiled. Same dimples, just older now. “Didn’t think you’d remember me.”
Jamie — the kid with the stutter. The one who read The Crucible aloud when I couldn’t.
He hugged me. Told me he was back in town for a court hearing — he’s a public defender now. Said he kept a copy of Romeo and Juliet in his dorm all through law school. Not because of the story — “It’s kinda depressing, honestly” — but because I made him believe he could read it.
“I just wanted to say thank you,” he said. “I never told you that.”
And just like that, I remembered why I stayed.
