Chapter Twenty Two
Julian in my classroom has become a regular thing. Once a week, like clockwork, he's here volunteering in my classroom. At first, the kids were feral about it. Now, they expect his presence which he of course graces them with.
"Is Mr. Julian coming today??"
"Yes," I answer, not even looking up from my desk.
A chorus of cheers rings out among the classroom. When he walks in, he's greeted by happy little voices and cheers.
He immediately tosses himself into helping. He heads to the back of the classroom and crouches next to one of my students, helping her sound out a word with a patience I didn't even know he had.
"Try it again," he says gently.
She does and follows his finger, sounding out each syllable. When she gets it, her whole face lights up. Watching it makes my chest soften, and I melt a little bit. Damn it.
Him being here in my space and my life has become so normal, I've forgotten what it was like without him. He fits. Maybe he always did.
The day progresses with controlled chaos and fun. Somewhere between lunch and afternoon recess, I realize I'm running out of time and need to transition into math. However, when I go to pick up the worksheets, I realize I never made copies.
"Julian?" I call, glancing at the clock.
He looks up immediately.
"Can you run these to the copier really quick?"
"Yeah," he says, already standing. He strides over and takes the stack from my hand, our fingers brushing. He winks.
"Thanks," I murmur.
He nods once with a smile and heads out. I turn back to my class.
"Okay, eyes up here!" They all look up at me. "Let's play a game while we wait for Mr. Julian!"
Cheers ring out.
And that's how we end up playing four corners for ten minutes.
When he doesn't come back, I frown slightly, glancing at the door.
Making copies shouldn't take more than five minutes, even with a line.
"Okay, everyone!! Get your coloring out," I say, fist pumping the air. They cackle evilly in excitement, making me laugh. The prompt today for their coloring sheet is 'the silliest thing you can think of riding a horse.'
"I'll be right back."
A chorus of "okay, Miss Claire" follows me out.
The hallway is too quiet. There should be little voices and teachers and aids running around. I figure out why it's so quiet when I round the corner toward the copy room.
I hear Julian. And his voice is not it's soft, gentle tone I've gotten used to in the last weeks. He sounds sharp and angry.
"You think she's too much?" he's saying forcefully.
I ease closer so I can hear more clearly around the corner. I've got to stop making a habit of this.
"...we're just saying it gets loud—" I know that voice. A fellow second grade teacher.
"Over the top?" Julian cuts in, voice harsh.
It stuns them into silence.
"She's ten times the teacher you are."
My breath catches.
"She cares about those kids in a way most of you don't even try to," he continues, voice low but fierce. "So yeah, her classroom is loud. You know what happens in that noise?"
No one answers.
"I do," he says. "Those kids love to learn. Because of Claire."
My chest tightens.
"They feel safe. They feel seen. They want to be there. Do your students cry on the weekend because they miss school? Do they burst out of their parent's cars to run to you? Or do you have problems with kids crying when they come to class?"
Another pause.
"He's right—" another teachers voice I recognize starts.
"No," Julian snaps. "Don't do that. Don't flip the script because I heard you.
If you have a problem with her, you can take it up with me.
I wouldn't forget that I'm your schools biggest benefactor if I were you.
Who knows, I may pay your salary. Don't stand here and pretend you're better because your classrooms are quiet. "
His voice drops, cold now.
"Quiet doesn't mean effective. Claire is bright like the sun and those kids shine because she teaches them how to. You all could learn a thing or two from someone as gracious as her."
No one speaks. I feel frozen. Something inside me just slid into place, completely and irreversibly. Julian isn't just showing up for me, he's fighting for me. He doesn't even know I'm standing here. He doesn't have to defend me, it would be easier if he didn't.
The parallels from that terrible gala and today don't escape me.
Julian chose me this time. The real me.
I turn, before anyone can see me and walk back to my classroom. Those ladies weren't wrong. I can hear my kids laughing and talking down the hall. I love it.
When I walk in, they cheer and I smile.
"Finish your coloring my little friends! But we pay for it with double math lessons tomorrow!" They groan loudly but continue to color, smiling and laughing at their creations.
My hands feel a little unsteady as I sit back down at my desk. I look out at the kids and I see it the way he just described. As a valuable, important work that will sustain me and the kids for years to come.
The door opens a few minutes later. Julian steps in, a stack of copies in his hand like nothing happened, like he didn't just change everything.
"Sorry," he says quietly, setting them on my desk. "Took longer than I thought. Someone was copying a whole text book."
"Julian?"
He stills at the tone of my voice.
"Yeah?"
"I love you."
He stares at me with wide eyes, hope and disbelief, pushing hard through the bond, and the room feels like it tilts just slightly.
"I love you," I repeat, softer now, "...and I want to move back in if you guys will have me."
He stares at me, like he's not sure he heard me right, and he thinks he's in a dream. He even reaches up and sticks his finger in his ear to clean it out.
"What?"
There's a laugh under the word that is full of disbelief.
I smile.
"I want to come back," I say. "With you."
That's all it takes.
"Are you serious?" he asks, already stepping closer.
"Yes."
Suddenly, he whoops. Loudly. The kids all snap their heads up.
"What happened??"
"Is it a party??"
"Did we win something??"
Julian doesn't care. He's already pulling me up out of my chair, hands gripping my waist as he spins me once, laughing. The kids break out in loud cheers, lunging out of their seats to run toward us.
"Tonight," he says immediately. "We're moving you in tonight."
"Julian—"
"No, we're not waiting," he insists, already grinning like he's planning everything at once. "I'll pack your stuff, we'll bring it over, I'll—"
"Julian," I laugh.
He stops.
"What?"
"I have work tomorrow!" I protest. The kids have all gathered around us and we are officially in a hug mob. Julian and I wrap our arms around them so we're all squished together.
"So do I."
I shake my head, smiling despite myself.
"You're insane."
"You love me."
"I do," I say easily.
The words don't get stuck. Not even a little.