Chapter 17 #2
Nate: Or holy water.
Me: Poor baby. It must be so difficult being hot.
I tuck my phone away as the next parent enters my classroom.
The older man wearing a Rosehill Rams t-shirt immediately looks unhappy to be here, and trailing behind him is a kid I immediately recognize.
Jason Barnett, football player, homecoming king.
“Hello, I’m Ms. Patel.” I hold out a hand to shake, but the man doesn’t take it, his expression remaining hard.
“You the art teacher?” he asks, almost an accusation.
“Yes, sir.” I keep my voice calm even as my pulse jumps. “And you are?”
He jerks his chin toward Jason, slapping a hard hand on the boy’s shoulder. “I’m Jason’s dad. My boy’s the quarterback.”
There’s a hint of pride, but it’s edged.
“It’s nice to meet you,” I say, staying polite.
Mr. Barnett’s glare moves around the room, landing on the art tacked up along the walls. “Art class, huh?” his voice drips with disdain. “Don’t want my boy turnin’ into no queer, messin’ around with paints and shit.”
The words land, twisting behind my ribs at the painful reminder of where we are, and what most of the people in this town believe.
“With respect, sir, “I start, not wanting a confrontation. “Art doesn’t have anything to do with sexuality.”
Jason looks like he wants to melt into the floor.
Mr. Barnett snorts. “He’s got football to focus on. That’s what matters. Not all this shit,” he waves his hand around the room.
And that’s it.
He turns to leave, ending the conversation without another word. Jason hangs back for half a second to add, “Sorry, Ms. Patel.”
It’s getting late. Most of the parents have already left, and I haven’t had anyone come in for quite some time.
I’m starting to think I won’t have any more visitors when a man walks into my classroom, along with a young boy. He looks to be in his forties, with messy brown hair and crooked glasses.
The boy is whining, pulling on his clothes.
“Hi, Nolan Murphy, Addison’s dad.”
I smile at that. I was wondering if I would meet her family tonight. “Addie’s dad, hi!”
“Sorry we’re late. Ollie didn’t want to eat his dinner.” He rests a big hand on the boy’s head, pushing his hair back.
“That’s okay,” I say softly, smiling at the boy. “It’s nice to meet you. You can call me Iris.”
Nolan sits down heavily, and his son immediately climbs into his lap, grabbing at the drawstring of his hoodie, twisting it around tiny fingers.
“Addie says she likes your class. That you’re her favorite teacher.”
“Her work really stands out. And she’s always a joy to have in class.”
He smiles, though it doesn’t reach his eyes. “That sounds like Addie.”
Ollie mumbles something, tugging on his father’s clothes. Nolan rubs a soothing hand over the boy’s back. “She told me you’ve been helping her with her art.”
“That’s right. She’s already made a lot of progress these past few weeks.”
“That’s great.” The boy squirms again, and Nolan holds him closer, looking back up at me. “Anyway. She’s lucky to have you.”
He stands, his son hanging off him like a sleepy koala, and nods goodbye while I wave to the toddler, who tucks his face into his father’s shoulder.
I follow them out, watching Nolan’s tired posture and Ollie clinging to him.
The man seems exhausted.
Across the hall, Nate catches my eye, mouthing help me with raised brows, while talking to a mom whose body language says she’s interested in him. I bite back a laugh, giving him a small wave.
When the parent-teacher meetings are officially over, Nate walks me to my car.
I’ve been stuck in my head all night, since meeting Jason’s father. I know I shouldn’t be surprised. This is Rosehill, but it still hurts. The words he used, accusing my class of turning his son gay.
Like being gay is the worst possible thing he could be.
Nate’s already watching me when I look up at him. “Something on your mind?”
I nod, chewing my lip. “One of the parents, Jason Barnett’s dad. He said some stuff. About art. That my class is going to turn him into ‘a queer’.”
Nate’s jaw tightens, shaking his head. “What a dick.”
He gives me an apologetic look even though he didn’t do anything. “I’m sorry you had to hear that, Iris. I know you probably ain’t used to that sorta talk, not being from around here and all.”
I shrug.
If only he knew.
“It wasn’t about me. I know he’s wrong. But Jason, it was his dad saying that stuff.”
He steps closer, wrapping his arm around me and pulling me close. “You didn’t deserve that. Neither did the kid.”
“He was just so- hateful.”
Nate nods, “I’ve been worried about Jason. His dad is a real hardass, and he’s been acting weird. He tells me nothing’s wrong, but—” I turn in his arms, pulling him into a tight hug.
We pull back before people start to question why we’re hugging in the middle of the parking lot, continuing until we stop by my car.
Nate’s thumb strokes gently over my wrist, “You okay?”
“Yeah,” I whisper. He leans in then, pressing the softest kiss to my forehead first, then another to my cheek, and finally my lips.
When we part, I breathe a little easier.