The Teacher by Freida McFadden EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Author: Freida McFadden
- Language: English
- Genre: Literature & Fiction
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
THREE MONTHS EARLIER
PEOPLE ARE ALWAYS TELLING me how lucky I am.
They tell me that I have a beautiful house, a fulfilling career, and I
constantly get compliments on my shoes. But I’m not kidding myself.
When people tell me that I’m lucky, they’re not talking about my house or
my career or even my shoes. They’re talking about my husband. They’re
talking about Nate.
Nate is humming to himself as he brushes his teeth. It took me almost a
year of brushing my teeth next to him in the morning before I realized that
it’s always the same song. “All Shook Up” by Elvis Presley. When I asked
him about it, he laughed and told me his mother taught him the song clocks
in at exactly two minutes, which is how long you’re supposed to brush your
I have started to hate that song with every fiber of my being.
The same damn song every single morning for eight years of marriage. I
could probably solve the problem if we didn’t brush our teeth at the same
time each morning, but we always do. We try to maximize our bathroom
efficiency in the morning, given that we leave at the same time and are
going to the same place.
Nate spits toothpaste in the sink, then rinses his mouth out. I have
already finished brushing my teeth, but I linger there. He grabs the
mouthwash and gargles the caustic blue liquid.
“I don’t know how you stand that stuff,” I comment. “Mouthwash tastes
like acid to me.”
He spits it back into the sink and grins at me. He has perfect teeth.
Straight and white, but not so white that you need to look away. “It’s
refreshing. Cleanliness is before godliness, you know.”
“It’s horrible.” I shudder. “Just don’t kiss me after gargling with that
Nate laughs, and I suppose it is funny because he rarely kisses me
anyway. One perfunctory peck when we part ways in the morning, one
when we greet each other in the evening, and then one before bed. Three
kisses per day. Our sex life is equally regimented—the first Saturday of
every month. It used to be every Saturday, then every other Saturday, and
now for the last two years, we have settled into the current pattern. I’m
tempted to program it into our shared iPhone calendar as a recurring
I pick up the blow-dryer to eliminate the residual dampness from my
hair, while Nate runs a hand through his own short strands of brown hair,
then picks up a razor to shave his face. As I watch the two of us in the
mirror, it’s hard to deny the plain fact that Nate is by far the more attractive
of the two of us. There’s no contest.
My husband is incredibly handsome. If somebody made a movie about
his life, they would be tapping all the sexiest stars in Hollywood to fill the
role. Short but thick deep brown hair, chiseled features, an adorably
lopsided smile, and now that he bought that set of weights to keep in our
basement, his chest is turning into solid muscle.
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