A Teacher and a Poet

by Cy Blanca

  “You’d probably be best going straight to his office,” Ms. Johnson whispered, a hiss causing the last syllable to slither.

  “Well, then. Ms. Johnson, if you wouldn’t mind.” He let the request swing open, daring her to deny his class the chance to empty their bladders.

  Ms. Johnson pursed her lips, then sighed but turned to the class. “Okay, children. Single file.” With more order than she probably expected, the kids lined up in front of Antony.

  Antony nodded his head a bit to the left, directing the kids to Principal Keller’s assistant. They all giggled and stood in front of her instead.

  “Thank you, Ms. Johnson. I expect you all to be perfect ladies and gentlemen.”

  “Yes, Mr. James.”

  With a final look at Ms. Johnson, Antony walked past her and out the door.

  As he made his way to the office, he couldn’t suppress the tightness in his stomach, his muscles folding in on themselves and making him sick with worry. Perhaps Charlie had a sharper memory than they’d originally thought.

  He entered the office, the fluorescent lighting stinging his eyes after leaving his room of natural sunlight. Everyone in the room looked in his direction. He’d never quite understood when Curt had talked about hearing moments of silence, but as quiet blanketed the main office, he finally got the imagery.

  The sound of silence was thick and rippled, more alive than a cacophony of noise. It managed to sink into every part of a person, the body a tuning fork, thrumming with expectant energy and the questions of what would happen and when it suddenly would.

  As he made his way farther into the office, his loafers scraping against the roughness of the new beige carpet, he kept his head down. While he might not have initially understood Curt’s abstract affection for muted spaces in his writing, he did know the feeling of being watched, his skin turning to sandpaper, the cells rubbing. That’s exactly what he felt as he slowly marched to Principal Keller’s office. When he finally reached the door, he looked around, and as his gaze met those of the staff, they lowered their heads as if they were the ones about to be raked over the coals and charred.

  Letting out a shaky breath, he knocked on Principal Keller’s door.

  “Come in.”

  Curt was already sitting there. When Antony opened the door, Curt looked at him, barely restrained fear masking the handsomeness in his features, making them hard and almost unrecognizable.

  “Please take a seat, Mr. James. We’re still waiting on a couple people.”

  If he hadn’t seen Curt’s stolid expression, Antony would’ve been relieved, deluding himself into believing the principal had been gathering a few teachers together for a schoolwide project or something. Instead, the steel knot in the pit of his stomach grew spikes and started making filets of his guts. His legs began to shake. He hid a small stumble as he lurched forward to oblige his boss and sat in the nearest chair to Curt.

  No one said a word. The silence lay thick and oppressive around and on top of them. Curt wouldn’t even meet Antony’s gaze, his eyes focused on a spot in front of him. Principal Keller was his usual professional self—quiet, hands atop his desk, fingers interlaced. While Curt made it obvious he was avoiding any sort of eye contact with Antony, Principal Keller had no such qualms. Though he seemed to be the very picture of professionalism, there was something dark and almost menacing behind his eyes as he stared at Antony, as if he were plotting not only his murder, but where he’d bury the body.

  Antony squirmed. He’d known Jesse Keller for years—long before he’d even thought of entering education. So he knew the signs of his anger. There was no mistaking the temper lurking below the surface. His friend—his boss—was furious. This wasn’t Jesse, the guy who’d passed out in his roommate’s bathtub after a night of beer pong and three shots of Everclear. This was Principal Jesse Keller, the youngest principal appointed to the position in the past twenty years of the school’s history. The knot in Antony’s stomach twisted so violently, he thought he was going to vomit. Just as he was about to excuse himself to the restroom, a quiet knock came at the door.

  “Come in,” Principal Keller said, the same coolness in his voice as when he’d addressed Antony.

  When Antony looked behind him, a couple were making their way past the door, parents he’d recognized the moment they stepped past the threshold.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Johannsen. Thank you for coming in.” Principal Keller stood and shook Mr. Johannsen’s hand, then gestured to a pair of chairs next to Antony. “Please have a seat.”

  They hesitated for a moment. Antony noted their wariness, the shuffling of feet, the shifting of their eyes. It wasn’t hard to see they were contemplating how to get as much space between them and him as possible, as if by proximity alone he’d infect them. Those few seconds of back and forth morphed his nervousness into an ire that bloomed in his gut like the spores of a fungus. He obviously knew why they were all sitting in Principal Keller’s office, but their treating him like he was a living disease was unnecessary. Mr. Johannsen directed his wife toward the chair closest to him, leaving the chair next to Antony vacant, while he chose to stand. What a gentleman.

  If he weren’t so nervous, Antony would’ve been inclined to scoff at their overt attempts to avoid coming in contact with him. But as it was, he knew he was in deep enough trouble without antagonizing the parents of the child who’d caught him and Curt getting a little too frisky. This is gonna be a long meeting.

  After a few awkward moments of adjustment to being around each other, Principal Keller cleared his throat. “Okay,” he began. “I think we’re all aware of what we’re here for. No need to spend any time rehashing the… details.” He looked first at Curt, then at Antony. “What we’re here to discuss is what we should do about the incident in a way that will allow us to get past it.”

  “Get past it?” Mrs. Johannsen asked, more than a hint of incredulity in her voice. “You can’t possibly mean you want to allow these two deviants—”

  “Deviants!” Antony blurted out before he could catch himself. “Curt?”

  “Shush, Ant.”

  Antony looked at Curt, his eyes slit and almost as close to murder as Principal Keller’s had been just moments before the door opened to Mr. Johannsen and his wife.

  “Now everybody just calm down.”

  “Calm… calm down! Robert, did he just tell us to… to calm down?”

  “Quite frankly, Principal Keller,” Mr. Johannsen said, “my wife doesn’t—”

  “Robert!”

  “My wife and I don’t feel comfortable allowing Charlie to continue his education here while you have two… umm… two….”

  “Two men like that on your teaching staff!”

  “Like what, Mrs. Johannsen?” Antony asked.

  “I refuse to allow my Charlie to stay in a school that allows such behavior,” Mrs. Johannsen said, completely ignoring Antony as she persisted on her righteous tirade. “And if you continue to allow these two….”

  “What? Just say it.” Antony was already wound tight, but Mrs. Johannsen was tap-dancing on the very last nerve he had. “Queers. Fags. Ass bandits.”

  “That’s quite enough, Mr. James.” Principal Keller apparently had already lost his patience. He was a mostly reserved man. He didn’t particularly care for drama, especially when it came to the conduct of his teaching staff. Nothing in his personality indicated he’d be in the mood to entertain a pissing contest between his close friend and a woman known for her chronic bigotry. “And, yes, Mrs. Johannsen. Calm down. We are all adults here, and there is no need for anyone to lose their minds. I’m sure we can come up with a solution that will—”

  “I want them fired!” Mrs. Johannsen screeched.

  If he wasn’t sure half the staff was already huddled around the door listening in, Antony figured they’d heard that bit of squawk. Well, he could raise the roof just as well as anyone else.

  “I’m not going anywhere,” he said.

  “Ant—” />
  “No, Curt. I’m not going to just sit here. One of us has to stand up for us.”

  Curt lowered his head. Antony just shook his.

  “Quite frankly, Mr. James, you’re in no position to stand up for anything. You know our policies about… that kind of fraternization among the staff, and you are subject to some form of disciplinary action. However, Mrs. Johannsen”—Principal Keller turned to the overexcited Mrs. Johannsen—“as far as Shawnee County school policy is concerned, I am not in a position to dismiss teachers. I can only recommend termination, and only if there’s solid proof.”

  “Our son saw them! What other proof—”

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. Johannsen. The word of a six-year-old boy won’t suffice for me to make that decision without the approval of the school board.”

  Mrs. Johannsen’s face contorted with anger. “Well, then, I’m going straight to the school board and demanding their immediate dismissal and an investigation into what exactly you have going on here at your school. Come on, Robert!”

  It was obvious Mrs. Johannsen wore the proverbial pants in this relationship, because he trailed after her without a word, gaze steadfast on the ground. Apparently neither Curt nor Mr. Johannsen had the balls to defend themselves in the presence of their partners.

  “We’ll be seeing you at tonight’s board meeting, Principal Keller.” After sparing Antony an apologetic glance, Mr. Johannsen made haste to get out the door and avoid another lashing from his wife.

  Principal Keller huffed out a heavy breath. “Mr. James, did you really have to antagonize her?”

  “Antag—Jesse, come on.”

  “Look, Antony, you’re not giving me much choice here. You know I don’t care what you and Curt do. You’re my friends. You were the best man at my wedding, for Christ’s sake, C. But you were caught, man. What do you want me to do?”

  Antony sat back in his chair, his arms crossed, anger rolling off him in radioactive waves. Okay, yes, he’d concede the Johannsens had a right to be upset. Antony knew better and had still acted on an impulse he should’ve had the good sense to quash. However, Mrs. Johannsen’s words still poked at him, popping his initial anxiety like a bubble and replacing it with a thick ire that bordered on rage.

  “Can’t you do anything, J?” Curt asked, voice hushed and hesitant. “Get Mr. Johannsen to speak instead of his wife, maybe?”

  “Oh, now you’ve got something to say,” Antony said. If Curt’s downturned eyes were any indication, Antony had hit his mark. But he was beyond the point of actually giving a shit. He was pissed.

  “Babe, please. Don’t look at me like I just betrayed you or something.”

  “No. No. Betrayal means you’d actually have to do something. You just sat there like some toddler getting reamed out by his parents for stealing cookies before dinner.”

  “Guys!” Though Jesse was a patient man, his patience in this situation must’ve been tested. Antony wasn’t blind to the stress his friend was under. He wore it around his shoulders like a jacket that was too small for his frame. They’d all pulled their share of stunts in their lives but never anything so bad someone’s career could be at stake. How could they’ve been so damn stupid? The school board already thought Jesse being hired as the principal of the primary school was a fluke, a bit of nepotism on behalf of his father, the former superintendent, for his youngest child and only son. It was doubtful people were in the dark about their friendship. This was just another chink in his unstable reputation, no matter how qualified and good he was at his job.

  He sat back in his chair, reclined a bit, brought his fingers to his temples, and rubbed at a sore spot. With a heavy sigh, he sat back up. “Okay. I can get him to convince his wife to move approaching the school board to next week to give you guys a little time to prepare for whatever. Maybe get him to speak on both their behalves to avoid any overly emotional outbursts. But that’s the best I can do, okay?”

  Curt released the breath he’d been holding. “Thanks, J.”

  Antony was too spent and too angry to actually respond.

  “Yeah.” Principal Keller shook his head. “You guys really stepped in the shit. Why couldn’t you just wait till the day was over? Damn!”

  “Hey, don’t look at me. Look at Silent Bob over there.”

  “Really? You’re gonna pin all this on me?”

  Antony looked away, too angry to acknowledge Curt and too embarrassed to admit he had a point. While he had given in to Curt’s need for one last kiss, Antony had suggested they meet in the workroom in the first place. But he wasn’t about to give Curt the satisfaction of being right. His anger was too fresh, too hot for him to concede even that much.

  “You know what, forget it.” Antony stood. “Are we done here, Principal Keller?”

  “Don’t be this way, man.” Jesse’s voice was as fragile as Antony’s hold on his temper. “We can get through this.”

  “We? I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware we were about to get fired. But it’s good to know you’re going to put your job on the line too.” Antony shook his head. “Sorry… just… whatever. Look, I get it, okay. I’m pissed. Just…. I need to go, okay. Can you get somebody to cover my class for the rest of the day?”

  Principal Keller just shook his head. “Fine. You too, C?”

  “Please?” he asked, his gaze on Antony, eyes sad.

  “Sure. Try to collect yourselves, okay? Things are gonna get a little bit nasty, and I need you two to keep your heads. You’re not just two of my best and most popular teachers. You’re my friends.”

  “Thanks, J,” Curt said softly.

  Antony gave a stilted nod, then walked out the door. As he made his way across the office to the door leading to the school’s exit, he saw all the staff staring at him, looks of shock replacing their discomfort when he’d first walked in.

  “Enjoying the show, ladies? Did you get your popcorn before the previews?” The secretaries gasped, then looked back down at their work. Antony scoffed, continuing on his way out the school. He rolled his eyes, biting down on his bottom lip to contain the expletive begging to reach out and slap every staff member who just kept… staring at him.

  “Mr. James?” one of the secretaries called out.

  Antony looked up, ready to skin anyone alive who’d attempt to stop him from leaving the office. But when he saw it was one of the younger women who worked in the office, he schooled his expression.

  Antony remembered seeing her for the first time earlier that week, a shortish woman with skin the color of a cat’s eyes—golden with brown freckles scattered across her face and shoulders. Rose. Her name was Rose. He’d comforted her when she sat there looking as nervous as a ballerina in her debut performance. Hers was the only gaze that was steadfast, though her voice had been a bit watery as she’d said his name.

  “Don’t worry, hon,” he said by way of placation. “I’ll be okay.” He turned to walk away.

  “If you need anything,” she blurted out, stopping Antony once again from reaching the door. “I know you didn’t mean it, whatever it is.” Her voice was soft, and a slight pink crawled up her face. “Just know that some of us have your back, okay?”

  Antony smiled at her, a small smirk that at least melted the ice in his eyes. “Thanks, Rosie,” he said softly, then once again started walking to the parking lot.

  As he made his way to his car, he heard footsteps on the asphalt behind him.

  “Antony, wait.”

  He rolled his eyes, then started to unlock the car. As he reached for his keys, it hit him. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

  “Leave your keys in the classroom?” Curt asked, a bit of smugness coloring his tone.

  “Don’t you dare laugh, dickface!”

  “Ant, babe. Stop for a second, will you? Look at me.” When Antony didn’t turn around, Curt touched his shoulder. “Please, baby.”

  “What?”

  Curt pulled him in for a hug. No questions, only comfort. “I know, nene. I know. I’m sorry. Ride with
me, okay? We’ll take the Grand Dame, and I’ll drive you to work tomorrow, yeah?”

  “It’s Friday, Curt.”

  “¡Coño! You’re right. Okay, I’ll call J, get him to grab your bag. Then we’ll drive up after school’s let out and come get it, okay?”

  “Fine.”

  “Yeah? Okay. Let’s go, then.”

  Curt gestured for Antony to lead the way to his trusty old red Pontiac Grand Am, his first and only car. It was his graduation gift. His parents had saved up to surprise him with it after he claimed his diploma, and he swore he’d never part with the aging beauty queen, which he lovingly called his “Grand Dame.” He unlocked the car and they got in.

  Just as he started the engine, Antony asked, “How could you just sit there and let her say those things?” He grabbed the seat belt and roughly stretched it over his shoulder.

  Curt ignored Antony to back out of the parking lot and start them on their way home.

  When it was clear Curt wasn’t going to answer him, Antony continued. “She called us deviants, for Christ’s sakes.”

  “If I’m not mistaken, nene,” Curt began, eyes on the road, “you’re the one that made with the slurs. She was just sputtering like a drunk chicken at a rave.”

  “I—wait… what?”

  “I’m just saying—”

  Antony waved off whatever Curt was about to say. “Chicken at a rave?”

  “You know… jerky and clucking and…. Look, it made sense in my head.”

  Antony couldn’t help himself. He laughed, and laughed some more, until his sides hurt and tears started rolling down his cheeks.

  When Curt came to a stoplight, he turned in his seat, but whatever lightness Antony had manifested just a few seconds ago disappeared with the fall of the first tear. He hated crying, everything about his childhood dredging up an irrational anger at the small tremor in his chin and fat drops sliding down his cheeks. But he couldn’t help it, and he knew Curt would never judge him for it. In fact, he pulled over, put the car in park, and grabbed Antony as best he could, holding him close.

  “Baby. Baby, don’t cry.”

  “They’re gonna take the kids from me, Ram. They’re gonna make me stop teaching, and I’ll never see them again. What am I gonna do?”