intro to abuse

           “James Martin” 

            I turned with anticipation, eager to see who was calling me. Actually, I didn’t know if I’d truly heard it because it wasn’t like a real greeting. Just a name. Maybe I was imagining it—trying to put what I wanted to hear in the air.  I looked and I didn’t see anyone except this black guy dressed in a polo shirt and loafers with rolled up pant legs.  Then I looked again.

Abuse

By about midnight on Sunday night, everyone else had pretty much gone to bed. Kevin is downstairs and I don’t really know what he is doing. I guess it didn’t matter much to me, because I was working on a hugely important lesson plan.  I never gave him any indication that I wanted him to stay overnight, he never asked if he could. I assumed that he would go back to Bettendorf or Davenport or wherever he lives or stays or…whatever he does.