My math teacher enjoyed making me feel small, and I never got why. One day, I was looking through my school’s 1989 yearbook and I spotted her at 16, in a class photo.
Something caught my eye. I looked closer and felt a sudden chill: she had the same jacket that my mom had—a unique piece with my mother’s initials carved on it.
My mom always said her dad had it custom-made for her and brought it from France.
Confused, I remembered my mom had also attended this school, likely a class ahead of my teacher. Curious, I kept digging through the yearbook and found a photo of my mom and my teacher holding hands, gazing at each other in a way that seemed more than friendly.
I felt like I was in a movie. I never suspected my mom might have been romantically involved with a woman in her past.
I decided not to say anything and pretended I hadn’t seen the photos.
Then, on my graduation day, my mom turned pale when she saw her. My teacher came up to us, and I saw her smile for the first time. She then handed me a piece of paper with 2 words on it: “Ask her.”
That night, I confronted my mom. She started crying and admitted the truth: my math teacher had been her first love in high school. They were together for a year until her parents found out and pressured her to break it off. A few years later, she met my dad.
The breakup devastated my teacher, who returned the jacket to my mom. Even though they never saw each other again, my mom admitted that this teacher had remained her true love.
