by Jerry Cole
Nate nodded. "I guess all jobs have their ups and downs."
"And my up is no responsibility, and my down is always the pay," she said. Then, looking at Nate and seeing the distress on his face, she embraced him again. "You know I do this for you kids because I love you. Don't look at me with pity, Nathan, I'm a strong woman, not someone to pity."
He nodded again. "I know. It's just... I hope someday you don't need to work so much, so hard. Maybe someday I can support you, or have enough money coming in that you can train in something that pays better."
"That would be nice, Nathan," she replied with a warm smile. "But look after yourself first. I didn't work so hard for twenty-five years for you to live like a pauper, okay?"
Nate kissed her cheek. All his childhood, his mother worked hard at three, sometimes even four or five different jobs to support her family. Always minimum wage jobs, zero hours jobs, tip jobs. Never anything that paid better or anything with any security. Still she soldiered on, keeping a roof over their heads and food in their mouths. She was an idol to him, a true goddess.
It was only now, with Nate finishing college and his littlest brother, Jack, entering elementary school, that she could afford to only work one job for a while. No more daycare costs, very few lunch costs, and no extra costs associated with supporting a kid who was dedicating most of his time to studying at college and getting good grades. Thanks to her hard work and his scholarship, Nate had come out of college without debt. Mrs. Thompson had more than earned the extra rest she was getting now.
"So, what are the ups and downs to your job? How did it all go?" she asked, all but guiding him into the kitchen, sounding genuinely eager to find out about his day.
"It went all right, you know?" he said with a smile. "I'm not too sure about how the head math teacher feels about me, but I like the school."
"How do you think he feels about you?" she asked with the tone of voice of a mother trying to be calm as well as preparing to leap at the throat of whoever was hurting her precious child.
Nate shrugged. "I don't know. It's like he just doesn't want me around."
"How, like he doesn't want you around?" she asked, stirring a pot of something that smelled nondescriptly amazing, another of her kitchen creations.
Nate shrugged again. "I'm sure it's nothing. He seems to be a pretty asocial sort of a guy. He's gay too, but, like, different."
"As in a 'white suburban' sort of different?" she asked.
"I'm sure that has nothing to do with it, Mom," Nate replied.
"But I'm right, aren't I?" she responded. "These things don't always matter, but when they do matter, they really matter, Nathan," she explained.
He understood her perfectly. "I'm going to give him the benefit of the doubt. He's a teacher in Riverdale. I don't think he could be racist and have lasted this long, could he?"
"You just be careful," Mrs. Thompson said, wrinkling her nose in slight disgust. "Some of these young men today... they think we're living in a different age."
Chapter Five
Thursday morning, Victor woke in a cold sweat at half past four and couldn't get back to sleep. Staring at the ceiling, he tried to will himself back to sleep, tried to trick himself into resting, even tried to bribe himself with the promise that he could worry all he wanted in the morning.
However, no sleep would come. He felt the same sense of panic that a caveman would feel when awoken by the sound of wild animals outside. He couldn't sleep when there was so much danger looming over him.
He was just too scared. He curled up on the bed, feeling almost like crying. He didn't want to lose this job. It was what he had always wanted to do. All he had ever wanted was to be a teacher. All he had ever wished for was to be able to take his passion for math and pass it onto the next generation.
If he failed here, then he would be in too much debt, personal and from student loans, to stay in Riverdale. It wasn't a nice city, but it was cheaper and a much more inclusive place to be than back home, with his parents, in their conservative cul-de-sac of a conservative suburban neighborhood of a fairly conservative city.
He couldn't go back. The shame of failing, combined with the total isolation he felt growing up there, was too much. Victor had put so much time and money into getting this job. He counted on it. If he were fired, he couldn't afford to wait long enough to find another job, he would simply have to go back home, tail between his legs, and endure the impositions of his parents, even as a man nearing thirty. Not to mention the snide comments of the homophobic neighbors and Lisa, their "converted" lesbian daughter whose escapes into the inner city strip clubs were known to everyone except her parents.
Overwhelmed with anxiety, Victor called his mother. She always knew how to reassure him. She always supported him… well, in a sense. She always supported him regarding the things she knew and the things he told her about. Some things she couldn't support because he couldn't bring himself to tell her about them.
Although she had never outright rejected him, she had distanced herself from him whenever his actions were too different from the norm—whenever his choices were a little radical, a little liberal, a little too different for the neighbors to approve of them. He had to fit in. He had to be someone she could take pride in, someone she could boast about, someone normal.
When he got his first piercing, she didn’t say anything about it. Much like Lisa's parents and their failure to turn a lesbian straight, Mrs. Walker had just pretended the piercing didn't exist. When Victor had got more piercings and some tattoos, Mrs. Walker sat by as Mr. Walker told Victor of the evils of looking too different in a world where people judged your appearance. Judging was not a problem, apparently, but not conforming to the judging was a terrible choice.
He had never come out to anyone in his family. How could he when their tolerance of his tattoos and piercings was so vague, it scared him. What if homosexuality was the limit of their tolerance and support? What if by coming out he would cross a line from which he could never come back, and lose his parents?
He even moved half a state away and kept two social media profiles to avoid drama. Whenever he dated a girl, he would keep her on his main social media profile. When he dated a guy, he would talk to him through his alternative profile. He had been doing this since he moved away for college, and it seemed to be working.
His family was, fortunately, of the stupidly wealthy, rather well connected type that do not maintain social media except for the sake of posting pictures to make others jealous. So, whenever they checked his profile to make sure he was behaving himself, they would see a limited post history, an ex-girlfriend who was pretty and wealthy, and a post from five years ago when he attended a Christmas charity event at a church near his college campus.
So they would nod and smile at what a respectable, responsible young man he was, keeping his social media profile low and leading a dignified life.
Meanwhile, his hidden profile was littered with guys asking when he'd next be in the area to hook up, announcements for his favorite rock and metal bands, the latest work at local tattoo parlors, and posts critiquing the governor's every move.
The split was clear, and his family remained clueless. It was perfect. They would never know about the guys he took home at night or the fact he hadn't been to church in years. They would never know he had not voted for the family's political party of choice in his entire life. They would never know he was a free, fun-loving, bisexual man who was not interested in marriage, kids, a house in the suburbs, or inheriting his father's company role or shares.
There was no reason for his family to know. Everyone grimaced at his tattoos, and his Aunt Dolores had actually told him he would go to hell for them, just for a couple of math-themed tattoos. If they couldn't endure that, then they would probably faint if they found out about the rest of his identity.
He loved his family very dearly. He was worried they wouldn't love him back if they knew who he truly was. He wasn't sure he could cope with losing h
is family. They had not always been there for him, or always cared for him, but they were still his family.
For all those reasons, he found himself staring at his phone, wondering if he should even call his mother about this. He always second-guessed himself about the right thing to do, the thing that would not embarrass them. He was pretty sure they'd be more ashamed if he moved home than if he stayed behind and told them his problems.
He scrolled through his contact list and called her. She always knew how to reassure him. She always knew what he needed to do to succeed—not necessarily to be happy or to be himself. Sometimes he wondered if his parents would much rather he was neither of these things. Sometimes he would rather not know.
The phone rang four or five times before she picked up. It wouldn't be because she wasn't up yet. She got up at the crack of dawn every day. Most likely, she had left her cell phone in the bedroom and gone to do some yoga or another “socially-approved” morning routine for an upper middle class woman of her age.
Eventually, though, she picked up the phone and he heard the sound of her blender running in the background.
"Hello?" she asked, as though she had not even seen who was calling and had just tapped the button, put herself on speaker phone, and walked away to get back to her blender.
"Hey, Mom," he said, trying not to sound too depressed.
"This is early for you, is anything wrong?" she asked in the tone of voice of a mother who actually meant the emotions she expressed. Yet he didn't feel welcomed to talk to her.
He paused a moment and wondered if she would actually care or know what to do. She usually did. But every time he spoke to her there was that worry that this would be the one time she didn't.
"I'm worried about losing my job, Mom," he said. "I think they're trying to replace me."
"I don't think they'd be looking to replace you. You're valuable to them," she reassured him. "I am sure it’s something else. What's got you worried?"
"They've brought in a new guy for me to train, but I don't see why we'd need a new math teacher," he explained. "It's not like I'm struggling."
"Is there anyone else leaving?" she asked.
"No, you know I'm the only math teacher there," he replied.
"I don't know then," she said, as the blender turned off in the background. "Is he part of a training program or something?"
"Yeah, actually. Giving people with non-teaching degrees a chance to be trained as teachers," he explained.
"Just watch your back, then," she added. "He's probably there to learn, and then he'll go on to teach somewhere else, or work as a teaching assistant. I’m sure they mean no harm, but there's nothing wrong with trying to keep on top of things."
Victor nodded, more to himself than to her, and hummed a little. That wasn't what Mrs. Heeley had said, but Mrs. Heeley had not told him much at all. "You're probably right, Mom," he said. "I'm sorry to bother you so early."
"Don't feel sorry for me, I was up. I'm worried for you. You're not going to be able to get any rest now. You know how bad that is for you?" she insisted.
"I'll have some coffee," he replied.
He could almost feel the exasperated sigh through the phone. "Coffee is no replacement for actual rest, Victor."
"I know, but it'll have to make do for now. Anyway, I have to get to work. Love you Mom," he said, trying to sound more rushed than he was.
"Love you, too, sweetie. Call me when you know what's going on," she replied.
"Will do, bye."
"Bye."
He still felt uncertain.. and uncomfortable. He didn't want to just put up with this and wait and see what happened. He wanted to make his parents proud. He wanted to make his indignancy known. He wanted to come out on top of Nate and prove himself. He wanted to win.
There was no winning in the world of work... was there? There was nothing like a victory, no finish line to cross, nothing to measure himself against except whether or not he kept his job. That was all that counted.
The battle would never end. Sure, he could get rid of Nate for now. But Nate was not his arch nemesis, not the final boss of this game. There would be more competition with time. There would be more Nates, more people to try and take his job from him. All of them would have their pros and their cons.
Victor hadn't faced this competition before. It felt awful. He had only ever had to compare himself to himself, to improve day by day. Now he had to compare himself with someone else, who had different skills and different issues to deal with. Now he had to compete with the world.
He didn't even want to go to work. For the first time in ages, he did not relish the anticipation. Usually he would be excited about the day ahead, ready to face the obnoxious kids and help the eager ones. He had lesson plans and ideas he wanted to work on. He usually felt this excitement as he set off to work.
Today he didn't want to be there. Today he wanted it to be over and done with, to not have to see Nate or Mrs. Heeley or anyone, to not be competing with anyone else.
Victor also felt another unusual sensation—a need to go to work. A fear of losing his job if he did not go. He had never thought he could lose a job. People where he grew up never lost jobs. They got promoted, or moved to another company, or got given a new job in the same company because their job was obsolete. It was fast food workers and people in standard retail jobs who got fired. It was people who were bad at their job who got fired. Not people like him. Not people who just weren't "good enough."
He had to go to work because if he didn't go and Nate did, then Nate would score points over him, Nate would win. It was too much.
Victor reluctantly got dressed and looked at himself in the mirror. Were his tattoos, his piercings or his hair really enough to lose his job? Could Nate score points just by wearing a suit, having clean skin and keeping his hair cut short?
How was that even fair? How was Victor supposed to compete against someone when the terms of the competition were so arbitrary, so biased against him? How could he compete when his education, his experience and his skill were going to be measured against how presentable someone else looked?
It was just what his parents had told him. He was going to be judged for how he looked, one way or another, and he had permanently marked himself in such a way it would cost him his job.
During the drive to work, he felt resentment building for Nathaniel Thompson. Victor felt like a soldier driving back to the enemy. He had never been particularly competitive. He had always thought it was one of the most poisonous aspects of the modern rat race. It sickened him to see people fighting over sports, gang affiliations or school admissions. It annoyed him to see images of war and destruction on the TV. It was vile.
He could feel those same emotions building up inside himself. He was competing. He wanted to destroy Nate. He was better than Nate. He was the best. This was what the modern world did to him. No, this was what the modern world demanded of him.
He would treat the man with respect as a fellow teacher if he were a fellow teacher. He was some sort of “service in the community” hire, to meet their quota for uneducated poor people in training. He was there to make the school look good, to make the people involved feel better about themselves, or to give the school board a way of saying they were doing something about wealth and educational inequality.
That meant Nate did not deserve respect, or to be given a break. This was war, and Nate had already been given a few boosts and a bit of help. Victor wasn't going to go easy on someone who shouldn't be there in the first place. He was going to get rid of this guy once and for all.
Chapter Six
Nate wanted to get along with Victor. As soon as he woke up and remembered he was going to work, he wanted to see Victor. He remembered being excited about seeing people before. He'd never had someone reciprocate his excitement, but that didn't stop it coming. Time and time again he'd been obsessed with someone only to find they grew more and more distant.
With Victor, it was even more than t
hat. They had so much in common, and Nate even found him handsome and intriguing. Nate felt drawn to Victor in a way he had never been drawn to anyone before.
Getting dressed, Nate found himself wondering if Victor would like each item as he put them on. He felt tempted to try on something a little more edgy, a little more original for Victor. So Victor would like him and respect him. Even if it put him in Mrs. Heeley's bad graces, he wanted to be in Victor's good ones. He wanted Victor to like him more than he had wanted anything, and he didn't see why they couldn't connect.
They were both young gay men fighting in the face of modern discrimination. Victor was bisexual, but his experiences would be similar. They had both experienced rejection and loneliness, fear of losing friends and family, fear of losing jobs or generally being treated badly because of their sexuality.
They were also both math teachers, and both misfits in their own way. Nate had tried and tried again to fit in, and never managed to. Victor was one of those guys who didn't even bother trying to fit in in the first place. They had both been left without a sense of community, without close friends, without someone to trust and rely on outside their own family. Nate wondered what he had to do to connect with Victor.
However, his own obsession was giving him second thoughts about the entire situation. Why did it bother him so much? He had met gay guys before. Guys he had more in common with than Victor. So why was Victor so important?
Nate knew he had to ask himself if he wanted to connect for professional reasons, because he felt rejected, or because he had a crush on the man. The latter felt a lot more likely than the former, and he could not deny it.
Nate knew his mother would still be asleep after a long shift yesterday. Veronica would walk to her school on her own, but Jack and Janet needed to be dropped off. He helped usher them out of bed quietly and reminded them all to get dressed, have breakfast and not bother their mother until it was time to be driven to school. Once they were all up, Nate grabbed his lunch and set off to work.
