by Cy Blanca
“Shh.” Curt rubbed Antony’s back, then kissed his temple. “We’re gonna get through this, nene. I promise. No matter what. It’ll be okay. I mean, look. We’ve lived here practically all our lives, right? It won’t be as bad as all that. They know us, huh?”
Antony calmed down enough to look up at and into Curt’s eyes. “Yeah. Yeah.”
“Okay, then. You need rum… and food. I’ll stop over at Devlin’s. Then we’ll get some wings from Glory Days, yeah? Just pig the fuck out. Then… then I’ll make you feel like you’ve got the entire universe wrapped around you. Would you like that?”
Antony chuckled. “The entire universe, huh?” He sniffed, clearing his sinuses and collecting himself in light of Curt’s attempts at making him feel better. “My boyfriend, the poet. Leave it to you to think about liquor, junk food, and sex when we’re about to lose our jobs.”
Curt smiled. “Yeah, well. I got you laughing, right?”
Antony shook his head. “Kiss me. Now.”
“My pleasure.” Curt started with Antony’s lips, a strong press of his mouth against his. Then he pulled away and licked at the bow of Antony’s top lip to demand entrance. Of course, Antony didn’t put up a fight, just moaned and opened his mouth and let Curt paint erotic pictures with his tongue.
When they pulled apart, Curt pressed his forehead against Antony’s. “It’s going to be fine, nene. I promise you. No matter what, we’re going to get through this. Trust me?”
With a sigh and another quick nip to Curt’s mouth, Antony said, “Always.”
JESSE HAD pulled through to get the meeting moved back so Antony and Curt had time to prepare for the worst. That didn’t mean they weren’t scared shitless when they walked in that night.
“I move that we adopt the agenda for this week’s board meeting.”
“I second.”
“All those in favor, say ‘Aye.’”
“Aye” came the unanimous vote.
“So moved. Do we have any highlights from around the district this week?”
“No school highlights, President Simmons.”
“Fine. Any proclamations?”
“There are no proclamations this week.”
“Very good. As there are no more items of new business, and there aren’t any highlights or proclamations this week, the floor is now open to the public. Let’s begin with those who’ve requested an audience at the meeting. Madame Secretary, who’s first on the docket?”
“First on the docket are Mr. Robert Johannsen and Mrs. Darla Johannsen.”
“Fine. Mr. and Mrs. Johannsen, if you could please step up to the microphone.”
The Johannsens, led with purpose by Mrs. Johannsen, stepped forward to address the board and the members of the audience, many of whom Mrs. Johannsen had rallied together herself.
As she made her way to the microphone in the middle of the aisles, Antony began bouncing his leg up and down as his nerves started popping with anxious energy.
Curt placed a hand on Antony’s knee. “Calm down, nene,” he whispered. The contact hushed Antony’s nerves enough for him to give Curt a tentative smile, a vain attempt at portraying calm he didn’t have.
Before Mr. Johannsen could commandeer the mic, Mrs. Johannsen cleared her throat. Oh, she wanted every last person in the room paying attention to her every twitch and motion. There was an odor emanating from her, the rancid stink of flop sweat like she was a performer and everyone in attendance was her audience; he could smell it from his seat. Poor Mr. Johannsen hastily sat in the chair nearest to him.
So much for speaking on their behalf.
Whatever nerves had calmed revved up again when Antony realized Jesse couldn’t stop Mrs. Johannsen on her tirade. She had a mission, and she was intent on fulfilling it.
She adjusted the microphone, then made a show of doing the same to her glasses. “I approach the board today to discuss a very serious matter concerning Pauline Central Primary School.” As she spoke, she scanned the members of the board.
“Please state your grievance, Mrs. Johannsen,” President Simmons said.
“It has come to my attention that the principal of Pauline Central employs teachers that engage in… devious acts during school hours and on school grounds.”
Antony ground his teeth, a bad habit he’d picked up from Curt, who’d bite down on his molars whenever he was having a hard time finding the right words.
There were murmurs in the audience, as well as among those presiding over the board meeting. “What exactly are you implying, Mrs. Johannsen?” one of the board members asked.
“I’m implying nothing. Our son, Charlie, saw two teachers engaging in crude acts in the teachers’ workroom.”
Jesse raised his hand. President Simmons’s attention was drawn to the small gesture from the front row, and he nodded his acknowledgment for Jesse to speak. Everyone’s attention shifted focus.
When Jesse stood, President Simmons motioned for him to move forward. “I take it you have a few questions, Principal Keller?”
Jesse cleared his throat by way of agreement. “Just one. Mrs. Johannsen, maybe you can answer something for me?”
Mrs. Johannsen’s lips were pinched tight, already thin lips made thinner and turning the skin around her pale mouth even paler. She released a short breath. “Of course, Principal Keller,” she said, Jesse’s name and title sliding between her clamped lips.
“What exactly was your son doing in the teachers’ workroom, might I ask?”
Both Curt and Antony breathed out a heavy sigh. Though Jesse couldn’t silence Mrs. Johannsen, he could make sure the board saw her as nothing more than a bigot intent on getting two gay teachers stripped of their licenses.
For a moment his tactic worked. Mrs. Johannsen was actually at a loss for words. “Well… that’s not… that’s not what’s important here,” she spluttered, her pallid skin deepening to a splotchy crimson. “What matters is he saw two of your teachers kissing on school property.”
The members of the board all turned in Jesse’s direction. He didn’t blanch, just stood there as cool as if he were actually in his own office. “That still doesn’t excuse why he was in the teachers’ workroom, unattended and without permission.”
A few of the board members began to whisper among themselves.
“That’s true.”
“He’s right.”
“I’d also question whether what your son saw was actually what he says. Kids sometimes think they see something, or even tell half-truths to cover up for being someplace they had no business being. Could that possibly be what happened? He was caught in the workroom, and the two teachers he claims to have seen kissing reprimanded him for it?”
Mrs. Johannsen was almost purple with anger. “How dare you imply my son was lying! Just who do you think you—”
“Mrs. Johannsen,” President Simmons interrupted. “I’m going to have to ask you to calm down. And Principal Keller”—he looked in Jesse’s direction—“be very careful. We don’t accuse students or their parents of lying or trying to hide things.”
“I didn’t mean to suggest anything. I just want to get to the truth, and it seems there isn’t enough evidence to do as much.”
Jesse might have missed it, but he didn’t interact with small children as much as Antony did, and his eye wasn’t attuned to minute details. One could never be too careful with little ones running around, ready to push buttons, turn things over, or take things to their desks for further examination or a covert taste test. So Antony saw the small twitch in Mrs. Johannsen’s mouth, the subtle up-curl of her lip, and the sharpness in her eyes before she even spoke.
“I’m afraid that’s where you’re wrong, Principal Keller.” She was ready to pounce, like a lioness chasing after a stubborn wildebeest. “In fact, someone who was coming in just as my Charlie was going back to his classroom saw them.”
This time Jesse couldn’t help but balk. He wasn’t accustomed to being caught off guard, and this was twice in a
s many weeks he’d been on the wrong end of a surprise.
Mrs. Johannsen was obviously encouraged by the change in his demeanor. “Mr. Kirkpatrick, if you could, please.”
A man Antony recognized but hadn’t really spoken to beyond knowing his name and what class he taught slowly made his way up to the microphone.
The hall was busy with whispers. “Settle down, everybody,” Principal Simmons admonished the crowd. “State your name, please.”
“I’m Michael Kirkpatrick, sir. I teach second grade at Pauline Central. Have for the past twenty-two years. So I can honestly say as long as I’ve been there, I’ve never seen anything like what I saw at the school last week.”
“And what did you see, Mr. Kirkpatrick?” Jesse spoke up again. His voice gave nothing away, but Antony could read his friend’s emotions like cue cards written in thick black ink. Back straight, hands clasped tightly together—Jesse was shaken.
“I’ve got proof that the two… gentlemen Mrs. Johannsen’s talking about were, in fact, engaging in unacceptable behavior while school was still in session.”
Again the members of the board began to talk among themselves. The mumbles of conversation sounded thunderous in Antony’s ears, and his legs began to shake once more. He turned to his boyfriend. This time Curt looked him in his eyes, no shame or fear, just warmth, even as ice began to encase Antony’s rib cage.
After a few more moments of conversation, Mr. Simmons said, “If you would please present your evidence to us, Mr. Kirkpatrick.”
Mr. Kirkpatrick took his cell phone out of his shirt pocket, then started fiddling with it. “I was walking back from the playground. We needed an extra monitor. Well, the teachers’ workroom is right next to the playground, and there are windows looking right into it. The two… young men in question”—every time Mr. Kirkpatrick spoke about Antony and Curt, it seemed he had a hard time getting the words out of his mouth, as if they were blocking his air passage and causing him distress—“probably forgot that fact when they were making their way out of the room. I saw the whole thing, every second of that display, and I recorded it on my phone here.” He handed it to one of the board members.
Mrs. Johannsen grinned, the kind of toothy, hysterical smirk that made the Grinch such a frightening character to Antony growing up. That grin didn’t disappear for a single moment leading up to Mr. Kirkpatrick giving his phone to the board member. As Mrs. Johannsen sat back in one of the seats near the microphone, she turned to survey the audience members. Her smugness churned Antony’s guts. He knew she was making sure everyone’s attention was focused on the front. As she perused the room, her gaze landed on him and Curt, and her grin bloomed into a full-out smile—a cloying sweet thing that was as sickening as too much hard-fried funnel cake at a discount carnival.
A gasp pulled her attention away from the couple and back to the front. One of the women on the board had her hand pressed to her mouth, as if she’d just been scandalized in front of a curious crowd.
“Are they kissing?” someone yelled from the audience.
President Simmons spared a look into the seats but didn’t respond to the question. “I’ve seen enough. Mr. Kirkpatrick, your phone.” He reached out to hand the device back.
“May I see the video, President Simmons?” Jesse asked.
President Simmons raised a brow.
“I just… I just would like to corroborate the story here. Cell phones aren’t always reliable. They don’t always capture what we think we see clearly.”
“He’s stretching,” Antony whispered. “He knows we’re caught. God, don’t do this, Jesse.”
“Shh,” Curt hissed. “Calm down, nene.”
“You know I’m right, Ram. He doesn’t need to do all this.”
After a few seconds of silence, President Simmons deciding whether or not to give Jesse the phone, he finally said, “If Mr. Kirkpatrick is okay with you using his phone, I have no objections. Anyone else?”
More members of the board mumbled a few words of agreement.
“Very well. Mr. Kirkpatrick, is this okay with you?”
Mr. Kirkpatrick, who was already on his way to the front to retrieve his phone, smiled and shook his head. “No problems at all,” he said, then looked in Jesse’s direction. “If Principal Keller wants to see for his own eyes, I have no qualms. It’s always good to get a second opinion.”
“Smug little shit,” Antony said.
“Nene, stop.”
“Fine. Principal Keller?”
Jesse reached for the phone, touched the screen, then looked at it for a few seconds.
The room was silent. Then Mrs. Johannsen stood, the metal legs of the chair she sat in scraping against the linoleum floor. She walked back up to the microphone. “In light of the evidence, I would like to request immediate disciplinary action. Thank you.” She walked back to her seat next to her husband. She didn’t look at Antony or Curt. She had no reason to. She’d won this round, and Antony was sure she knew it.
After a few moments of silence, Jesse let out a deep sigh, then gave the phone back to Mr. Kirkpatrick. When he didn’t say anything, one of the female board members asked, “Principal Keller. Care to explain your teachers’ behavior?”
Principal Keller was silent for a few long moments. Antony knew from the hitch in Jesse’s chest they were caught. He also knew how much it hurt Jesse to have to accept it. “I… uh….”
“I’d like to say something.”
The thick timbre of Curt’s voice shook Antony out of his stupor. He looked up at him, unsure of what he was planning but incapable of doing anything to stop him.
His declaration apparently was enough to start the room buzzing with activity and hushed voices again.
President Simmons tapped his wooden gavel against the table a few times. “Let’s hold it down, folks. And who might you be?”
“President Simmons, he’s one of the men on the video,” another female board member proclaimed. And just like that, the room became silent. An eerie quiet sat heavily over everyone.
“I see,” President Simmons said. “Okay. You may speak.”
“Thank you, sir.” Curt walked steadily to the microphone, a long trek from his spot in the back of the room with Antony. As he made his way to the front of the hall, there was a trail of whispers and sneering faces following him. Oh shit. He approached the mic, cleared his throat, and began. “Good evening, everybody. My name is Curtis Ramírez. I am a teacher of third grade at Pauline Central. My partner, Antony James, is also a teacher at PC. He teaches first grade. I can confirm”—he took a steadying breath—“yes, we were… kissing in the teachers’ workroom.”
The room almost exploded. Cries of “What!” and “That’s disgusting!” from the crowd bubbled and spit in the Burnett Center like stew in a cauldron.
President Simmons once again lifted his gavel and this time banged it on the table with more authority. “Everyone! Everyone, settle down, or I’ll have this hall cleared.” When the noise leveled off, President Simmons looked at Curt, then gave a nod. “Mr. Ramírez, you’re free to continue.”
“I just—”
Someone coughed, the sound visibly knocking Curt from his train of thought. He clutched the mic and cleared his throat a couple times. His discomfort was lost on everyone else, but a lover knows the signs of a body ill at ease. Curt had shared memories with him of waking up from nightmares in which… things were watching him, like old Disney films, when they used watercolors and Technicolor became a big deal: deep-set scowls and huge disembodied eyes slanted in anger and disgust. All zeroing in on him as if animals ready to attack. Antony saw that shiver at his back, as if Curt felt the tension of being hunted.
“I….”
“Take your time, Mr. Ramírez,” President Simmons said.
Antony wasn’t necessarily expecting the kindness President Simmons showed Curt, but with the calmness in President Simmons’s voice, Antony saw Curt pluck up enough courage to clear his throat and open his mouth, this
time words coming out instead of unsteady breath.
“I am fully aware that the actions of me and my partner were inappropriate.” He stopped, inhaled deeply once more, then continued. “I know I have no right to ask for any sort of leniency in this situation. We broke a rule, and we should be punished for it.”
“Damn right,” someone whispered. Whether the nameless person behind Curt meant to be heard or not—though in the pulsing quiet of the room, how could they not?—he chose to ignore it. “However, I want to ask just one thing, if I may.”
“This is an open meeting, Mr. Ramírez. We’ll hear anything you may have to say on your behalf.”
“Thank you, sir. No one at the school has been made aware yet, but before all this happened, I’d planned on handing in my formal resignation next month.” A few gasps echoed around the room, one of which puffed from the chest of Jesse Keller. “I still intend on ending my stay at Pauline Central. As a parting request, I ask that you please show mercy on my partner, Antony James. He’s a dedicated teacher and loves his students.”
Mrs. Johannsen burped a throaty scoff. President Simmons sent a disapproving glare in her direction, and she held her tongue, though her face still showed all the malice of a woman on a rampage.
“Please, President Simmons, members of the school board. I came to realize some time in the middle of this year that my heart isn’t into teaching children. But Ant—Mr. James, he’s always had a passion for it. Always loved seeing his kids learn and grow and develop a love of education. I know what we did was inexcusable, but please don’t take that away from him. One stupid mistake shouldn’t be enough to take away something he loves as much as this.” He looked into the eyes of each man and woman sitting before him, pleading with them to at least consider giving Antony another chance to do what he so desperately loved. “That’s… that’s all I wanted to say. Thank you for your time.”
Curt stepped away from the mic. The silence was absolute, save a few creaks when those who’d gathered for the meeting began to shift uncomfortably in the aluminum chairs, a few coughs, and a heavy breath here and there.
