"No, thank you," I looked away, smiling. He cocked his head, his eyes full of curiosity, but he didn't ask the questions I knew he had. Besides, I had a feeling he already knew the answers.
"Tell me more about your life here in Ottawa." I wanted to break the silence, but I also wanted to hear about it.
"Okay, well. We moved here when I was twelve, and I grew up here…went to university here…there's not much to tell, really," Iain answered, taking another sip of his beer.
"Is your family still here?" I asked, hesitating briefly.
"Yeah. But don't worry; they very rarely venture away from home-cooked meals and Hockey Night in Canada," Iain winked. "Besides, none of my family likes Thai food."
I opened my mouth, longing to say I'd love to meet them some day, the standard girlfriend response, before I realized how…ridiculous that would be. The questions that would arise. The spot he'd be put on. I swallowed the lump that suddenly welled in my throat and looked down at my glass.
"Hey," Iain whispered, reaching across the table and tipping my chin up so I'd look at him. "I want you to meet them too. And you will…one day."
I smiled sadly at him, touched that he'd known my train of thought even though I hadn't said a word aloud, but I still felt solemn. I didn't believe that…I mean, I did…but I didn't. I knew he wanted me to meet his family, but I knew it wasn't that simple. I'd been a dirty little secret for so long, and there was so much at stake.
The waitress interrupted us with our plates, and we ate in almost silence. Iain watched me carefully, worry tracing the corners of his eyes.
Chapter Twelve
After dinner, we returned to the hotel room. I wanted to forget my worries and get lost in him entirely, and I did that. I allowed myself to just…be. We fell asleep entangled in each other's arms, my head comfortably resting on his shoulder.
I woke up early the next morning to the sound of Iain walking about the hotel room, talking on the phone in a hushed tone.
"I know, I wish I could pop in too. But I'm swamped with work," he was saying. I watched him as he leaned against the window, the light of the full-moon illuminating his perfect athletic body. He was only wearing a pair of boxers. "Okay. I love you too. I'll talk to you later," he said, ending the call. He remained in front of the window, staring out.
"Who was that?" I asked. I knew it was intrusive, but I figured I had a right to know. Iain startled a little, turning to look at me. He smiled, no trace of uneasiness in his features.
"Just my mom." He shrugged, crossing over to the bed and crawling into it.
"Oh," I whispered, thinking about the turn our conversation had taken the night before.
"What is it?" Iain asked, frowning at the look on my face.
"Nothing," I said, trying to brush off the conversation. It was definitely not one I wanted to have at 5 a.m. in the morning.
"Harlow, please," Iain begged, angling his face so that our eyes met. "I need to know what's on your mind. I need to know if you're….regretting us."
"I'm not regretting us!" I exclaimed, shocked that he'd jump to that conclusion.
"Then tell me what it is, because I'm not getting good vibes from you lately. You're on edge, and you're closed off. You don't seem happy." Iain sounded vulnerable and hurt. It was my turn to startle. I hadn't realized I'd been so easy to read.
"It's just…" I hesitated, wanting to find the correct words. Iain watched me patiently. I got the impression that I could take a lifetime and he'd still be quietly waiting for me. Patiently. I sighed. "I'm never going to be the girl that you can just bring home."
"And why not?" Iain asked, surprise crossing his features.
"Because Iain, I'm barely 18. You were my teacher when we met, when we…got together, even if you aren't teaching any of my classes next semester. How do we tell that story to your family over dinner? How do we explain ourselves to anyone?"
Iain frowned, opening and closing his mouth as he thought about what I'd said and how best he could argue it.
"You love me," I said, gently placing my index finger over his lips to silence him. "I know that. And I love you, more than anything. But every time I think about the future, I get scared." My confession hit a sore spot with Iain. I saw pain reflect in his eyes. It was fleeting, but it was there.
"Don't be scared," he whispered, stroking my cheek to soothe me. "All that matters is if you want the future. Do you want the future, Harlow? With me?"
I nodded, about to tell him how stupid he was for asking me such a thing, but he continued talking. "Then that's the important bit. The rest of it is just technicalities. I know that my family is very embracing and understanding. My younger brother? He's gay. It doesn't matter to any of us. You love who you love."
"You love who you love," I repeated, a real smile lifting the corners of my lips for the first time in a while. I'd been mulling over the bleakness of our situation for too long, moping about it. When really…so many people out there faced similar issues. So many people were "not supposed" to love who they loved.
"You love who you love," Iain said again, firmly this time. He took my face in his hands and passionately kissed me. "And I love you, Harlow Jones. We'll figure the rest out when the time comes."
I smiled against his lips, pulling him back on the bed, against me.
* * * *
"Mom? Is there anything I can help you with?" I asked, hesitating by the doorway. Mom was in the kitchen, preparing dinner. Larry was in the living room, watching some sports show on his new flat screen TV with glee. His hooted excitement over goals and the "clarity" of the TV was amusing to listen to.
"Yeah, sure honey…if you'd like to peel those carrots?" Mom gestured to the sink where a pile of carrots was waiting, freshly washed. I walked over, picking one up and grabbing a peeler. I set to work on the carrots, stealing glances at her from out of the corner of my eye.
Since getting home the week before, I'd thought a lot about the conversation Iain and I had in the hotel room in Ottawa. You love who you love. That sentence kept ringing out in my head, over and over again. Since returning home, I had wanted desperately to talk to Mom about Iain again. She was still pretending that he didn't exist. Pursing her lips whenever I said I would be home late, but unable to keep me on lock down. She knew that every time I said I was headed over to Jenna's, I wasn't always headed over there, although I did visit with her quite a bit. At first, I'd wanted to gauge out if she'd seen anything in Ottawa. She hadn't seemed like it though, and after we hung out a few times, I was able to relax a little. But we definitely didn't have sleepovers, like I told Mom and Larry. I think Mom knew that, though, but she couldn't call it into question with Larry around, and with her sheer determination to deny it was happening.
I'd kind of expected her to rat me out…but she hadn't yet. My curiosity as to why was overwhelming me. I figured it was probably because she didn't want to deal with the fallout, and she also didn't want to betray me. We were on shaky ground.
I wanted to blurt it all out then and there, but knew that tactic likely wouldn't work with her. So I decided to go for the full-disclosure route.
"So Jenna heard back from that agency," I said, rolling my neck to work out the kinks as I set to work on another carrot.
"Oh?" Mom asked, her voice piquing with interest.
"Yeah, I think she's picked a family," I answered. "Or at least narrowed it down to a few."
"How does she feel about it?" Mom inquired, sounding generally concerned with Jenna's feelings, and I'm sure she was. She was checking the temperature of the turkey and had her back to me.
"Sad, overwhelmed, but relieved. She still thinks it's the best route for her and the baby…"
"What do you think?" Mom's question caught me off guard.
"Well, I don't know." I shrugged. "It makes sense to me." Mom nodded in agreement, and put the turkey back in the oven. "Jenna also told me they picked a trial date…February 24."
"So soon?" Mom asked, surprise on her fac
e as she turned around to look at me. "I thought it'd be another couple of months."
"I guess things are coming together quickly." I shrugged. "I know that Jake is willing to testify, and Thompson's gotten in touch with a few of Andrew's…other victims. There's a lot of evidence, and I think they are even going to bring Carl Cooper's role to light, exposing him for obstruction of justice."
"It'll be here though?" Mom asked, leaning backwards against the counter.
"Yeah, Thompson will travel here," I answered, wiping the back of my hand across my eyes to push some stray hairs that had fallen from my sloppy bun. I was nearly done peeling the carrots. Mom started on the salad, humming quietly to herself.
"Mom…I was wondering something?" I asked, timidly peeling another carrot while watching her. I saw her back stiffen.
"Oh? What's that?" She was forcefully working to keep her tone joyful and even as she tossed the salad, mixing in the dressing.
"Do you support gay marriage?" I asked. My random question threw me off guard, and she turned to look at me.
"Yes…" she gave me a peculiar look, wary of where I was going with it.
"So…if I were a lesbian…that wouldn't bother you?" I raised an eyebrow, waiting for her response. She stole a look to the living room, then looked back at me.
"What are you getting at, Harlow? Are you a lesbian now?" she asked, scoffing at the notion.
I stared at her, keeping my expression serious. "If I were a lesbian, and I loved another girl…would that bother you?"
"I would still love you," Mom replied, exasperated. Impatience showed in her eyes.
"So why is my relationship with Iain so hard to handle?" I asked lowly, keeping my eyes on hers. She wavered a bit, but tensed her jaw.
"Because, Harlow," she whispered, glancing back to the living room again. Then she walked toward me, stopping when she was less than a foot away from me. "It jeopardizes your credibility as a student. It pulls into question your grades, and both of your morals."
"Mom." I rolled my eyes. "I've always gotten good grades. Do you mean to tell me I've slept with every teacher I've ever had?"
"No, of course not," Mom said, her voice desperate. "But what I think doesn't matter. It's what the school board would think if this…ever went public. You're still technically a minor. It's sick of a teacher to pursue a student."
"But I consent, regardless of my age."
"Age matters, for you, right now. The age you are…that matters," Mom hissed, gently but firmly grasping my upper arms with her hands. She didn't look angry, just…desperate.
"I want to protect you," she added, her voice gentler but still desperate. "I know how this will play out. Haven't you followed any news coverage of student-teacher relationships? They always end badly. The teacher usually gets charged and thrown in jail, and if the student isn't victimized, their academic records are called into question."
It was my turn to waver, ever so slightly. "We love each other…"
"That may be," Mom's voice was as stiff as her posture. "But there are laws against this kind of thing, Harlow! I could press charges against him. You are a minor and you are my daughter."
"You wouldn't," I said confidently, although I really wasn't sure. "You wouldn't because you know I'm in love with him, and that he makes me happier than I've ever been. You haven't told Larry because of it."
Mom opened her mouth, but was silenced by Larry walking into the kitchen. "Tell Larry what?" he asked, looking curiously at the two of us. Mom's hands dropped to her sides and she quickly smiled at Larry.
"Oh, nothing dear," she said. "Just girl talk."
Larry shrugged, unconcerned, and attempted to sneak some food from the dishes on the counter. Mom swatted him away and shoved him back toward the living room with a genuine smile on her face as she told him that dinner would be ready soon.
"This conversation is over, for now, Harlow. I mean that," Mom whispered meaningfully.
* * * *
Shortly after Christmas dinner, when the dishes were cleaned and Larry was passed out in his recliner in front of his new TV, I slipped out into the front hall to get my jacket and boots on. What I really wanted was to continue the conversation with my mom, but I didn't know what else I could say about it. She had her points (valid ones at that) and I had mine as well. I didn't want to face the fact that maybe, there was a grain of truth to her words.
"When will you be home?" Mom whispered, coming into the foyer as I finished lacing up my boots. I thought about Lauren, briefly. She was the one who used to call them my shit-kicker boots. A wave of sadness rose in my chest, but I shoved it down. Now was not the time to think about Lauren. It was surreal, how she'd well up in the most random of times.
"Dunno," I replied honestly, scooping up my overnighter bag. I'd packed a few gifts for Iain and some overnight clothes. "I'm doing a Christmas…thing…with…I'll be home tomorrow."
"Harlow," Mom glanced to the floor, avoiding my gaze. "I do want you to be happy…"
"I know, Mom." I sighed, also avoiding her eyes. "He…makes me happy."
"I can see that," Mom remarked, her voice sounding defeated. I stole a glance at her, and she did look defeated. Bone weary and tired.
"You love who you love," I said, borrowing the line that was now permanently etched in my mind. I opened the door, giving her one more look over my shoulder before I closed it. I couldn't make out her expression, but that didn't matter. I knew she wouldn't tell on us.
It was snowing heavily, the big snowflakes that fall from the sky and bring magic to Christmas. Iain was parked on the next street over, waiting for me. I climbed into the passenger seat, leaning over to kiss him hello.
"Merry Christmas," I whispered, smiling.
"Merry Christmas to you too." Iain grinned. He started driving toward his place, asking me about my day. I filled him in on bits and pieces of it, but left out the conversation with my mom. I was trying to ignore how certain things she'd said hit home for me, since it felt like Iain and I were constantly hashing out those "technicalities," as he called them. I wanted our first Christmas together to be special.
And it was, Iain made sure of it. We exchanged gifts in front of a burning fireplace. Iain had bought me a dainty necklace with a heart and key, a leather bound journal and ink pens. I had bought him the entire boxed set of Dexter, a show he was obsessed with, although I felt insecure in my choice. His gifts were so personal, so me. Nevertheless, Iain was so excited about it that I couldn't help but allow him to talk me into watching nearly the entire first season in 24 hours, while we cuddled on his couch.
I returned home for a few days, awkwardly spending it with Mom and Larry when I wasn't working, and spent the New Year at Iain's house. We sipped champagne in his bed, and welcomed the new year with intimacy and tangled limbs.
My birthday fell on January 4, the last weekend before the new semester started, and I spent the entire weekend with Iain.
"Where are we going?" I asked yet again, watching as Iain tossed some clothes into his overnight bag. Mine was already packed. Iain shrugged, a quiet smile on his handsome face.
"That's a secret…" he said, alluringly.
The secret ended up being a cozy cabin even more north than we already were. He took me skiing for the first time ever, and laughed with delight every time I fell on my ass. By the end of the weekend, I was sorer than I'd ever imagined possible, but also incredibly happy. I was still riding on those feelings of euphoria when we returned for the new school year. Jenna was waiting for me by the cafeteria doors. She was wearing a baggy cardigan and had angled her bag to cover her stomach. She wasn't noticeable as she was still quite tiny, but it was almost getting to the point that you'd be able to tell. I knew she was extremely insecure about it.
"What's got you all happy? Did Ben spoil you this weekend?" Jenna asked, a hint of a mischievous grin on her face. She glanced around, trying to see if anyone was staring at her.
"That he did." I smiled. We started walking upsta
irs toward our first period class, art.
"Where'd he take you?" Jenna asked, brushing back a strand of her blond hair and sliding in behind me to avoid a cluster of giggling girls.
"A cabin up North…we went skiing," I replied. We entered room 302 and found seats near the back. "It was my first time. He taught me how to stay on my feet…kind of."
"That's so romantic," Jenna sighed, leaning back in her chair beside me and looking away dreamily. "I wish I had that."
"Looks like you did already," scoffed a familiar voice. Jenna and I both looked with surprise at the speaker. It was Callie, and she was leering at Jenna's belly pointedly. Tara giggled beside her, and they dramatically tossed their hair over their shoulders and found seats further away from us, but still in view. They immediately started whispering and giggling, glancing over toward us with malice.
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