Page 13 of After the Rain

SIX

READING BETWEEN THE LINES

EZRA

S etting up my classroom Monday morning, I caught myself humming while arranging art supplies, my improved mood obvious even to me.

The weekend had felt like a glimpse into a life I wanted but had been afraid to hope for—belonging somewhere, being part of a family unit, having someone appreciate both my professional skills and the person I was when I wasn't performing teacher mode.

Wade's kitchen. Cooper between us during story time. The easy way we'd moved around each other like we'd been doing it for years.

I was in deeper trouble than I'd ever let myself get into before.

"Okay, spill." Brook appeared in my doorway with two cups of coffee and a knowing look. "You've been floating on cloud nine since Friday afternoon, and now you're humming show tunes while organizing crayons. Either you won the lottery or a certain single father made quite an impression."

I tried to deflect, busying myself with lesson plans. "It was just educational support. Cooper needed help with his family tree."

Brook's raised eyebrow said she wasn't buying it. She settled into the student chair across from my desk, clearly preparing for interrogation.

"Uh-huh. And this educational support required you to spend the entire day at his house because...?"

"The project was complex."

"Ezra."

"Fine." I sank into my chair, abandoning pretense. "It wasn't just the family tree. Wade gave me a tour of his house, we cooked together, Cooper insisted I stay for dinner and bedtime stories. It felt..." I searched for words that wouldn't reveal how completely I'd fallen. "It felt really natural."

Brook's face lit up with excitement. "Oh my God. You had a domestic fantasy date with Wade Harrison."

"It wasn't a date. He was being polite."

"Honey, straight men don't invite single gay teachers over for all-day domestic bliss unless they're interested in more than their child’s education." She leaned forward conspiratorially. "Tell me everything. And don't leave out how he looked in work clothes."

Despite my protests, I found myself describing the easy domesticity, Wade's impressive renovation skills, the way we'd worked together in the kitchen like we'd known each other for years. Brook listened with growing excitement, clearly seeing romantic potential I was still afraid to acknowledge.

"He doesn't even know I'm gay," I said, trying to inject reality into her enthusiasm.

"Are you sure about that?"

The question stopped me. Was I sure? Wade had seemed remarkably comfortable with Cooper's casual mention of families with two dads. He'd asked thoughtful questions about different family structures without any discomfort.

"Even if he did," I said, "that doesn't mean he's interested."

"Ezra. Sweet, oblivious Ezra." Brook leaned forward. "Did he seem nervous around you? Awkward? Like he was trying to figure something out?"

I thought about Wade's lingering touches, the way our eyes had held contact longer than necessary, his obvious reluctance to end our time together.

"Maybe a little."

"And when he called you last night? How did that go?"

"How did you—never mind. We talked for almost an hour. He invited me to see his Victorian house restoration project. And we're going to the library event together next weekend."

Brook's grin was triumphant. "See? He's courting you. In his confused, recently-divorced, probably-just-figuring-out-he-likes-men way."

Wade appeared in the drop-off area right on schedule, but there was something different about his demeanor. More confident, more purposeful, like he'd made some kind of decision over the weekend. When our eyes met across the parking lot, his smile seemed warmer, more personal.

My pulse quickened in response.

Cooper bounded toward me with extra enthusiasm. "We went to the park and met Jackson's two dads and they were super nice and Daddy said families can look different ways and then we went to the hardware store for treehouse supplies and then Daddy called you and talked for like a million hours!"

"Sounds like you had a busy weekend," I said, trying not to react to Cooper's casual mention of Wade's lengthy phone call. "Did you bring your family tree to share?"

"It's in my backpack! It's so good that Madison's probably going to be jealous."

Wade approached more slowly, letting Cooper monopolize the conversation while exchanging meaningful glances with me. There was something different in his expression—awareness, appreciation, maybe even attraction?

"Thanks again for Saturday,” Wade said, his voice carrying layers beyond simple gratitude. "Cooper hasn't stopped talking about how much fun he had, and honestly, neither have I. It felt..." He paused, searching for words. "It felt really right, having you there."

The admission hung between us, more personal than casual thanks should be. Other parents moved around us in the typical morning chaos, but Wade's focus remained entirely on me.

Mrs. Garrett walked past with her daughter Emma, and I caught her sharp glance at Wade and me, the way her steps slowed as if she was trying to overhear our conversation. Something about her expression suggested she was storing up information.

"I had a great time too," I said, hoping my voice sounded more professional than I felt.

"Speaking of which," Wade continued, either oblivious to Mrs. Garrett's scrutiny or choosing to ignore it, "are we still on for the library event Saturday?"

Other parents nearby turned to look, including Mrs. Henderson, who smiled warmly, and Mrs. Garrett, who looked decidedly less pleased. Our weekend plans were now public knowledge in the small school community.

Wade seemed unbothered by the attention, even pleased that our connection was becoming visible.

"Absolutely," I said. "I'm looking forward to seeing what architectural marvels you two create."

During lunch, my concerns proved justified when Dr. Williams' secretary delivered a note requesting a meeting after school about "maintaining appropriate professional boundaries."

My stomach dropped. Someone had complained.

Brook found me picking at my salad in the teacher's lounge, immediately noticing my changed mood.

"What's wrong? You look like someone just cancelled Christmas."

I showed her the note. Her face darkened as she read.

"Fucking busybodies," she muttered. "Let me guess—Mrs. Garrett saw you and Wade making heart eyes at each other and decided to make it her business."

"Even if that's true, it doesn't matter. If parents are complaining about my conduct, I have to take it seriously."

"One parent. Probably one bigoted parent who can't handle seeing her kid's teacher be anything other than a sexless robot."

But Brook's support couldn't eliminate my growing dread. I'd survived one professional crisis in Portland; I couldn't afford another.

Dr. Williams greeted me warmly but with obvious concern. "Ezra, please sit. I want to start by saying this isn't a formal disciplinary meeting. You're one of our most dedicated teachers."

"Thank you," I said, though her tone suggested a significant 'but' was coming.

"However, I've received some concerns about your relationship with the Harrison family. Mrs. Garrett contacted me this morning. She expressed concerns about what she described as 'inappropriate familiarity' between you and Mr. Harrison."

My heart hammered as she consulted her notes.

"Specifically, she mentioned observing extended conversation during morning drop-off that seemed more personal than professional, and she learned from other parents that you spent several hours at the Harrison home over the weekend.

She also mentioned that you appear to be making social plans together, which she feels creates an inappropriate dynamic. "

The coded language was clear. Mrs. Garrett's concerns weren't really about professional boundaries—they were about my sexuality and her assumptions about my motivations.

"Dr. Williams, I can explain exactly what happened. Cooper was struggling with the family tree assignment because the worksheet didn't accommodate his family structure post-divorce. I offered homework help, which is standard practice?—"

"I understand your intentions were professional," she interrupted gently. "But we need to be mindful of appearances as well as realities. In a small community like ours, people notice when teachers and parents develop relationships that seem to extend beyond educational support."

"What exactly is Mrs. Garrett suggesting?"

Dr. Williams looked uncomfortable. "She's concerned that your... personal interest in Mr. Harrison might be affecting your professional judgment. She mentioned that other parents have noticed you giving Cooper special attention."

The accusation hit like a physical blow. Mrs. Garrett was essentially suggesting I was showing favoritism to Cooper to get closer to his father.

"That's completely false. Any attention I give Cooper is based on his educational needs?—"

"Ezra, I believe you. But Mrs. Garrett has also mentioned your history in Portland, how you left under circumstances involving questions about appropriate boundaries."

My blood ran cold. She'd researched my background, discovered the David Rivera situation, and twisted it to support her current complaints.

"Dr. Williams, what happened in Portland was a misunderstanding based on prejudice and false accusations. I was never found guilty of any wrongdoing?—"

"I know. I reviewed your personnel file when Mrs. Garrett raised these concerns. Your former principal gave you glowing recommendations. But the fact remains that you've now had boundary concerns raised in two different districts."

"Concerns raised by bigoted parents who can't handle having a gay teacher interact normally with their families."

The words came out harsher than I intended, revealing my frustration and fear. Dr. Williams studied my face carefully.

"Is that what you think this is about? Your sexual orientation?"