It's a reasonable question, and one that has many answers. I start with the easiest one.
"I think I went into teaching because I didn't know what else to do. My dad was a teacher, and he always loved his job. Then it turned out I was good at it, so I thought it was the right career for me. I didn't realize it wasn't making me happy until Dad confronted me about it recently. He’s afraid I’ll become one of those teachers who only stays in it for the great pension, and he’s right. I don’t want to spend my life counting the days until retirement.”
Saying this out loud feels good, like I've spoken a truth that I've felt for a long time, but been afraid to express out loud. It's okay for me to be good at teaching and still leave the profession. And if for some reason I find out it was a mistake, I can always go back to it later.
"Sounds like you've thought it through," he says, settling back next to me and placing his arm over my shoulders again.
And then my phone rings. And rings. And rings. If it's Dan, he has terrible fucking timing.
"Are you going to get that?" he asks, staring at my purse. "It could be your dad."
"Right." I move slowly enough so that the phone finishes ringing by the time I get to it.
There's one missed call, and it's from Hugh. I blow out a breath of relief that it isn't my married stalker and put the phone back in my purse.
"It was my friend Hugh," I say. "I'll call him back later."
"Why did you look panicked when your phone rang?" Seth asks suspiciously.
"I didn't," I say, avoiding his eyes.
Seth stands up and walks down the sidewalk a few feet, then turns and paces back to me.
"Maybe I'm being crazy, but if there's something you're not telling me..." He takes a breath, then says, "Do you have a boyfriend back in New York?"
I look up and see the hurt in his expression.
"No." I answer quickly, wanting to dispel that idea immediately. "It's nothing like that."
Seth sits back down next to me. "Then what is it? You can tell me. I know something is wrong. Is it the same reason you were hell bent on getting drunk the other night?"
I stare at my hands on my lap, trying to find the right words, but there's no way to sugarcoat what I have to tell him.
"Right before I came down here, I kissed a co-worker and someone saw us. We were drunk, and it was a huge mistake. I thought that was him calling me. He keeps calling and texting me, even though I told him to stop."
Seth closes his eyes for a few seconds before responding, and I know he's already guessed the rest.
"Why was it a huge mistake?"
"He's married," I say quietly.
The worst is when you tell someone something that you've been scared to say out loud, and they're silent. I wait a long time for Seth to speak, knowing that when he finds the words, they won't be what I want to hear.
"How could you do something like that?" he asks.
"It wasn't something I planned. It's something that happened—"
"This was a choice," he argues, standing up and pacing again. "It's not something that happened to you. Don't make excuses."
I'm self-aware enough to know that one of my worst character traits is my inability to admit when I'm wrong. When backed into a corner, I want to fight my way out rather than confess or apologize. If I do that with Seth, I'm definitely going to lose him.
"I understand what I did was wrong," I say, sounding calm even though my pulse is racing double time. "I feel totally sick about it, I do. And I ended it immediately. He's the one calling me, wanting me to go to therapy with him and his wife."
Seth's expression is fury and disgust.
"I don't want to hear this," he says, rubbing his face with his hands.
I stand up and face him. "So it would have been better if I’d lied to you?"
