Gemotions

The flyer, crinkled and forgotten on the fridge, finally caught Amelia's eye. "Back to School Night: Mrs. Gable, 3rd Grade." A coldness settled in her stomach. Mrs. Gable. The woman who’d handed back her history essay with a detached nod and the terse comment, "Could have tried harder." Amelia’s hand trembled as she pinned the flyer up, the paper seeming to mock her. She poured herself another cup of coffee, the bitter taste doing little to soothe the sudden hollow ache in her chest.

At the school, Amelia hovered near the back of the classroom. Mrs. Gable, older now but with the same sharp eyes, greeted parents with a practiced smile. Amelia found herself shrinking, her shoulders hunched as she watched Mrs. Gable interact with the other parents, their ease a stark contrast to the knot forming in Amelia’s gut. The room seemed to close in, the air thick and heavy.

As she watched her son, Ethan, with his bright smile and infectious laugh, interact with the teacher, Amelia felt the familiar weight of inadequacy press down on her. Ethan deserved so much better than her, so much more.