Bio:  D'Ann Mateer lives in Rowlett, Texas with her husband and three children. When not sitting in the school carpool line or at a sports practice or game, she writes fiction (mostly.)
 

Last summer, "Shattered Expectations" won a short story contest sponsored by Rowlett, Texas.

Shattered Expectations

by D'Ann Mateer

“Boys and girls, please pick up all your trash and put it in the trash cans. The buses are here to take us back to school.” An audible groan answered the third-grade teacher. Dozens of eight and nine-year-olds wadded up brown paper bags filled with half-eaten peanut butter and jelly or bologna sandwiches. Some frantically guzzled their remaining soda while others dumped it on the flowery weeds at the edge of the pond near their picnic spot.

Another teacher, the young one, hurried the stragglers along. Over her shoulder she glimpsed the large, unshaven man shuffling through the tall grasses at the water’s edge, his eyes shifting from the children to the ground and back again. He made his way toward their abandoned picnic spot. One sweeping glance told her all she needed to know. His dingy pants, frayed on the edges, topped with a faded shirt, revealing his protruding belly. His shoulders slumped. His head drooped. He wore no shoes.

Two boys remained behind, shooting at the overflowing trash can with paper bag balls. “To the bus. Now,” the young teacher ordered. They hurried to join a cluster of boys racing toward the school bus in a final burst of energy.

Out of habit, the young teacher walked the picnic area once more in search of forgotten items, picking up trash that had missed its intended destination. But one eye, she kept trained on the interloper.

Bolder now with the solitude, the man made his way to the nearest trashcan. With the precision of a surgeon, he opened soggy paper sacks and examined sticky baggies until his search yielded a perfect half sandwich. He glanced up quickly, then turned to shield his new found treasure.

The teacher felt her stomach lurch. With lowered eyes, she turned her back on the man. She felt dirty, the unwilling witness to something sordid and shameful. Moments passed. Her disgust melted into pity. Compelled, she turned to observe the man once more.

He stood straight and tall at the edge of the pond, toes sunk in the mud. The sandwich in his hand disintegrated as, bit by bit, he threw it to the gathering birds and ducks. Casually, as if lunching with old friends.

The teacher swallowed hard. Tears sprang to her eyes as she watched, mesmerized. This outcast of society defied her every expectation.

She turned without a sound, leaving her task unfinished. As she walked toward the bus, she listened to the man’s murmuring, to the occasional splash of water. She imagined the ducks waddling in and out of the pond at leisure, content with food and attention.

Arriving behind the last student waiting to board the bus, she laid a soft hand on his shoulder. He looked up, eyes anxious, as if waiting for a stern reprimand for his earlier antics. She opened her mouth, then closed it again, giving him instead a soft and sympathetic smile.

©D'Ann Mateer