9. Chapter Nine
Chapter Nine
Ken
T he copy machine’s monotonous drone lured my mind into a daydream as I leaned against the counter on Friday morning. Sheets of the day’s alphabet assignment cascaded through, each landing with a gentle warmth onto a small pile.
As the copies churned out, Mrs. Johnson from third grade popped by, a bright smile on her face. “Happy birthday, Kendall! Got any big plans for the weekend?”
I shrugged casually, hiding the flutter of excitement about my secret weekend getaway with Marc.
This trip with Marc, his birthday gift to me, was all I thought about—our first real chance to spend uninterrupted time together.
My heart raced as I counted down the days to our weekend escape. After our steamy backyard make-out session last weekend, Marc and I hadn’t stopped texting. Our phones buzzed with silly memes, heartfelt notes, and daily snapshots, each chime making me giddy.
Just last night, he sent me a picture of him and Mia covered in dirt from his garden, their faces split into wide grins. In my heart, I already imagined the three of us as a little family.
Yes, it was way too soon—but I thought about it, anyway.
I couldn’t remember the last time I felt this way—giddy, lightheaded, like a teenager with a crush. Every time my phone chimed with a new message from Marc, a smile would involuntarily spread across my face.
As if on cue, my phone buzzed as I walked down the hallway. Marc had sent a link to a video of a goat with an absurdly long tongue flapping around, then an emoji of a winking face.
Absolutely filthy. You’re so bad, I typed out with one hand. Can’t wait to see you.
I pocketed my phone quick as a flash when Stella joined me, glancing down at my pocket. “What’s so funny?” she asked, blowing on her steaming coffee mug, curiosity in her eyes.
“Oh, it was my stepmom,” I replied smoothly. “She and my dad want to take me to dinner this weekend. I told her I had other plans.”
“Uh-huh,” Stella said, a knowing smile playing on her lips.
When we reached our classrooms, across from each other, I let out my breath as she herded me into her room. “Come on, spill it.” She stirred her steaming cup of coffee, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “I haven’t seen you this happy since…well, I don’t know when. And not just because it’s your birthday.”
She wasn’t wrong. I was falling for Marc, hard and fast. The stolen moments we shared, from our passionate kisses in his backyard to the late-night phone calls where we talked about everything and nothing—it all only made me crave more. “Okay—I’m going away for the weekend with someone.” Heat flooded my cheeks. “But we’re keeping it on the lowdown, so don’t say anything.”
“Marc?” she mouthed wordlessly, her eyes widening with excitement.
I nodded, unable to keep the smile off my face.
“I knew it!” Stella’s eyes lit up with amusement and genuine happiness for me. “You two are finally taking the plunge and spending some quality time together. It’s about time!”
“Yeah,” I admitted, warmth spreading through me at the thought of the upcoming weekend. “He planned this whole getaway for us for my birthday. It’s a chance to escape everything for a bit and just be ourselves.”
“He sounds perfect,” she said, her voice filled with approval.
I snorted, shaking my head. “Don’t tell him that. It’ll go straight to his head.”
Stella punched me lightly in the shoulder, her expression turning serious for a moment. “Ken, you be nice to that man. He’s the best thing to happen to you in a long time. You deserve this happiness, and so does he.”
“You really think so?” I asked sheepishly. I valued Stella’s opinion, and her approval meant the world to me.
“Absolutely.” Stella reached across the table to take my hand, her eyes shining with excitement. “It’s about time, Ken. You deserve some romance in your life, and I can tell Marc makes you happy. Now tell me all about your romantic getaway!”
Her enthusiasm was infectious as I told her about Marc’s plan for us. “We’re driving to San Antonio for the weekend. He got us a hotel room downtown, and we’re gonna play tourist. Dinner, maybe go dancing at a club. Do some shopping.”
“That all sounds amazing,” Stella said with a wistful sigh, “but why now? Summer break is only a couple of months away. Then you don’t have to worry about being Mia’s teacher anymore.”
I paused, considering her questioned. It was a fair point. Summer would have been the logical choice, the safe choice.
But something about Marc made me want to throw caution to the wind, to dive headfirst into this thing between us. “We just… we’re okay with waiting to officially start dating,” I said slowly, trying to put my feelings into words. “But since it was my birthday, we want to spend time together, to really get to know each other. And not just in stolen moments on weekends when Mia’s asleep or talking on the phone all night.” The way Marc made me feel seen, heard, understood in a way I never had before. “This isn’t a fling for me, Stell,” I added softly, lifting my head to meet her gaze. “I think… this might be something real. Something serious. And I don’t want to waste any more time pretending otherwise.”
The truth was, I didn’t want to wait any longer to get closer to him, to explore the possibility of building something real and lasting.
Stella sighed and touched my shoulder. “You really care about him, don’t you?” she asked, her voice filled with genuine warmth.
I looked up and met her knowing gaze, the flush creeping over my cheeks again. “I do,” I admitted softly. “More than I ever thought I could care about someone. He’s special. He’s worth taking a chance on.” I thought of the way Marc’s eyes lit up when he laughed, the way his muscular arms wrapped around my body when he held me. The way he made me feel like anything was possible, like the world was ours for the taking. “I just…I want to see where this goes. I want to give us a chance to be something more than friends.”
Stella nodded, her expression softening with understanding. “I get it, Ken. And for what it’s worth…I think you’re making the right choice. Life’s too short to play it safe all the time.”
I smiled, feeling a rush of gratitude for my friend’s unshakable support. “Thanks, Stel. That means more than you know.”
***
The morning flew by. The next thing I knew, I was reminding my students to be good to the substitute teacher assigned for my class that afternoon, and with a wave to Angie, my aide, I shouldered my laptop bag and headed toward the front office for one last stop of the day—a chat with the principal per her email request.
Mrs. Hawkins was in her office. Knocking lightly on her open door, I poked my head in. “Hey, Ginger. You wanted to see me?”
“Of course, Ken. Come on in!” she replied warmly with that slow drawl, setting aside the stack of papers she was reviewing.
Her office was impeccably organized, each item in its place. A framed picture of her family sat proudly on her desk, the smiles of her husband and children beaming up at me. It was a small reminder of the life she had outside of school, something I sometimes forgot.
What would it be like to have that too, pictures of a loving family staring back at me? It had always been a pipedream… until now. “Just wanted to remind you, I’m taking a half-day. Ms. Arredondo is the sub, so they’re in expert hands.”
“Fantastic,” Ginger said. “But before you go, Ken,” she added, her tone shifting to a more serious note. “There’s something I need to discuss with you.”
The air in her office seemed to grow colder. No good conversation ever started with that phrase. “Sure, what’s up?” I asked, faking a casual smile.
“Take a seat.” She gestured toward the chair opposite her. I complied, noticing the way her fingers drummed the desk. “I received an email from a parent today,” she began. “Regarding a rainbow flag that you have on your desk. This parent feels it might be inappropriate for a kindergarten classroom.” She paused, watching my expression closely.
I fought to keep my face neutral, even as anger and disbelief bubbled inside me. “It’s about this big,” I told her, holding up my hands to show how small it was. “The flag is a symbol of inclusivity, a safe space for all students,” I added, steadying my tone. “It’s important that kids know they’re welcome and valued, as is everyone else in my room. Hell, Ginger, most of them don’t even know what that means.”
But the ones that did—that’s who the flag was for.
Ginger nodded, but there was a hint of hesitation in her eyes. “I understand that. And I appreciate what you’re trying to do. But this parent seems very upset.”
“Upset?” I repeated, struggling to keep myself from saying something sarcastic—or worse.
“Look.” Ginger sighed, rubbing her temples. “You know what’s going on with the library, and the curriculum,” she said, referring to the recent controversies over LGBTQ+ content in the school district. “To avoid issues with the school board, I have to at least appear to take this parent’s concern into consideration. I can’t ask you to remove the flag. I won’t.” She paused again, catching my eyes. “But I wonder if you would consider doing so, at least for now, while pressures are hot regarding...”
It was on the tip of my tongue to say something smartass, but Ginger had been good to me for as long as I’d worked for her. She’d never given me reason to believe she didn’t approve of my ‘lifestyle’, and I appreciated what it must be like to communicate with angry parents on a daily basis.
Funny thing—I’d put that little flag in my pencil holder on my desk a few weeks ago when Stella gave it to me, then promptly forgot about it. Now I felt sucker-punched, the air rushing out of my lungs in a sudden whoosh. My hands trembled in my lap, and I clenched them into fists. The thought of removing that small, colorful symbol of pride and acceptance from my desk suddenly was a betrayal of who I was.
On the other hand, the idea of losing my job, leaving the students I adored, tied my stomach in knots. “Alright,” I said, my jaw clenched. “I’ll think about it.”
“Of course,” Ginger said, her expression softening. “Now, you go have a good afternoon. I hope you have something fun planned.”
“Thank you.” I stood up and clutched my bag in my hand.
As I left her office, it felt like I had been kicked in the balls.
Had I gotten too comfortable here? Had I closed my eyes to the prejudice and hatred that simmered just beneath the surface of those polite smiles? In the political spectrum, Blanco Springs was comfortably red, and had been for as long as I’d lived here. Despite feeling safe, disapproval always lurked nearby, I knew that.
The promise of the weekend had been bright and hopeful moments ago; now it turned dull and heavy.
But Marc was waiting for me, and together, we would figure this out.
The drive home was a blur, my mind replaying the conversation with Ginger on an endless loop. After I unlocked the door to my apartment, I dropped my bag by the door and made a beeline for the bedroom, where my half-packed suitcase lay open on the bed. I had been so excited for this weekend, so eager to spend uninterrupted time with Marc, but now my enthusiasm felt dampened by the events of the day.
Folding a pair of jeans and placing them in the suitcase, memories of my parents’ well-meaning but misguided advice floated in my mind. “It’s better to keep your private life private,” my stepmother had told me when I first came out to them. “People in this town talk, and you don’t want to give them any reason to gossip.”
I’d brushed off their comments chalking it up to a generational difference and a desire to protect me from harm. But now, faced with the prospect of having to hide a part of myself at work, their words took on a new meaning.
As I continued to pack, my mind raced with absurd possibilities. What if word got out about my relationship with Marc? What if parents complained, or worse, pulled their children from my class? The thought of losing my job, of being ostracized by the community I loved, was almost too much to bear.
Foolish thoughts, I knew this—but fuck if I wasn’t a little bit scared.
But then I pictured Marc’s smile, the joy he brought to my life. I thought of what I wanted to teach my students—the value of being true to oneself and standing up for what’s right.
I zipped my bag shut and slung it over my shoulder, determination settling into my bones. No one, not my parents and certainly not some anonymous, cowardly parent, would dictate how I lived my life.
The flag would stay right where it was. I had to be brave, had to trust that everything would work out in the end.
My phone buzzed, then buzzed again. Two text messages. One from Alex, wishing me a happy birthday and asking me to call him when I had a chance.
The other message was from Marc: On my way. See you soon!
A smile tugged at my lips. Together, we could face anything.
As I switched off the apartment lights and headed downstairs to meet Marc, the ache in my chest melted into a reassuring warmth.
This weekend was about us, and that’s all that mattered.