Fly on the Wall Read Online Free PDF Page B

Though he had a very handsome and boyish face, there was nothing else boyish about him. He was built like a man at least twenty-five years old. Breathtaking! They didn’t make boys that size when I was in high school. I stepped away from him, walked over to my desk, and gave orders.
    â€œWhen you’re done, pick someone else, and then that person goes and selects someone else, and so on and so forth until everyone has had a turn.”
    As Theodore spoke to the class, I drifted miles away. I went over my introduction fifty times in my head and wished that I had the opportunity to say more, but this wasn’t quite the audience that I needed to vent to. I thought about what I really wanted to say.
    Hi, I’m Paige Patrick, your English teacher. I am thirty-two years young and this is my sixth year here at West Dade High. My e-mail address is on the board; use it only for your questions and online assignments. Please don’t forward me jokes, chain letters, corny-ass stories about miracles, or missing people.
    I know that many of you had your hopes up about walking into this classroom today and calling me Ms. Fatrick under ya damn breaths, but the joke is on you. In a year and a half, I went from two hundred and six pounds to one hundred and thirty-two pounds. How? Well, after winning twenty-five thousand dollars in a lawsuit against a restaurant that served me poisoned fish, I had liposuction, plastic surgery to lift, tuck, and snip any area that gravity had in its jealous grasp, and enough left over to hire a personal trainer. I’m back into the body I had in college, and I love it.
    Yes, I used to be married to that whore basketball coach, Coach Johnson. I met him seven years ago when I was twenty-five, and married him just a few months later. We were happily married for two years and in misery for three.
    I stayed in the marriage because the man was a sexual genius . . . damn, just thinking about it . . . I need a moment. Girls, beware of a man that is fine, smart, sexy, and strong. If he seems too good of a package, that means that he is, and chances are another woman is thinking the same thing along with you. I thought that Craig could do no wrong until I visited my gynecologist two years into our marriage and walked out with a penicillin prescription for some bullshit that I, an English teacher, couldn’t even pronounce.
    After the explosion of an argument was over, though I didn’t believe his story about picking up the ‘bug’ when he sat on a toilet seat on a bus to an away game, I stayed with him. I was insecure and didn’t leave because I had started gaining weight. Somehow, I thought he was doing me a favor by still wanting to make love to me. At the time, I believed that walking away would be too complicated and I’d never find another man with my excess physical baggage. What I didn’t know was that the only person I needed to find was myself. However, a year later, I walked out of my doctor’s office broken, embarrassed, and homicidal with yet another prescription for penicillin.
    Instead of waiting on him to come home, I went to the sports bar where he and the other coaches would go some Fridays after school. Craig was sitting at the bar, and the slim, blonde bartender seemed very interested in tending to his every sip, drip, and desire. I watched him flirt with her, kiss her hand, comment on her breast size, and run his hand down the side of her face for about five minutes before I made my approach. She stared at me but didn’t think for one second that this tall, zero body fat, brick house of a brotha could be married to this slightly overweight, brown-skinned woman walking toward them.
    â€œDon’t bother bringing your diseased ass home tonight.” He watched in disbelief as I dropped penicillin pills into his beer then turned to the blonde. “You might find yourself needing these.” I slammed a few of the pills on the counter then