Resting Quietly #6
“Sorry,” he muttered. “I’ve just always really loved seeing that. Seeing the planes and stuff. I—”
“God, don’t apologize, Reg,” Anthony said, his voice husky. “I could watch you be fascinated all day. You’re like a little kid. I feel like king of the world for giving you something that lets you act like a little kid.”
Reg hid his eyes against his upper arm. “I don’t even…,” he mumbled, but he was reassured by Anthony’s rumbly laughter.
“Okay, let’s move on to another uncomfortable subject,” Anthony said, stuffing half a piece of bread smeared thickly with butter into his mouth and chewing. “How are you going to keep that promise to Adelle?”
Reg groaned and rubbed fruitlessly at his temples.
“Oh hell, I have no idea. I wasn’t kidding about it being hard, usually.
You can’t just waltz in and teach high school, no matter what Republicans want you to think.
There are layers upon layers of education and certification and programs and requirements—a year and a half to two years of the credential program alone, at least in California.
It’s hilarious that the government proclaimed teaching wasn’t a real profession, considering teachers in California have way more professional education than most of the politicians who just crapped all over them. ”
“Bitterness,” Anthony said sagely. “I like it.”
Reg glanced away. “Sorry,” he said. “I try to keep my politics in the family.”
“Hey,” Anthony told him gently. “That’s where I’m trying to get to. And I happen to agree with you. But my agreement isn’t going to make this any easier. Can’t you just…?” He waved his hands. “I mean, you’ve got mad hacking skills.”
“No, I can’t just magic myself teaching credentials,” Reg told him blandly. “And you don’t want people doing that anyway.”
“Who would even want to?” Anthony asked, sounding facetious.
“Pedophiles for one,” Reg said, and Anthony’s expression of horror was enough to tell him that Anthony didn’t take this lightly. “No, the credential should probably be earned.” He chewed his lower lip in thought. “The bachelor’s degree, however….”
“There’s your line?” Anthony asked, eyebrows up.
“Well, Adelle wasn’t wrong,” Reg told him.
“I… I haven’t just read art books and tried to recreate the styles and the mediums—I’ve consulted with art professors, mostly online.
I, you know. I’m on their forums and their chatrooms and such.
Most of them probably think I have a, erm… .” Oh, this was embarrassing.
“A bachelor’s degree?” Anthony prodded.
“A doctorate,” Reg muttered. “At least three of them have asked me if I’d prefer they address me as doctor. I, uhm, told them that wasn’t necessary.”
He was aware that Anthony was gaping at him.
“What?”
“Oh my God, Reg, isn’t there some way you could, I don’t know, test out of having to go to school for two years?”
Reg frowned. “Well, there is an exam, but usually you need to have a BA or BS to take it. So, you know, you have a BA in English, but you take the NTE in social studies, and then you can teach history and English after you get your credential.”
Anthony frowned. “So I know there’s special programs that let you get your credential while you teach.
What you need to do isn’t fake your credential.
You need to tweak the degree you already have.
You’ve got a junior college degree in computer science.
Just change the A to a B, substitute in Adelle’s class for the rest of the semester, and see what you have to do to get fast tracked toward a credential! You can do it!”
“Just change the A to a B?” Reg stared at him. “Like, change the associate’s degree to a bachelor’s degree? Are you insane?”
“No!” Anthony said. “I’m totally lucid. You can do this, Reg.
I know you can. Moreover, I think you want to do this.
I think you’re already attached to those kids in Adelle’s classes.
I think you’d be great at this. And I think you are wasted doing quiet computer overhauls and graphic design work for a steal when you could do that and do this other thing that really, really engages you.
Come on, Reg, don’t you want to be happy? ”
Reg felt a shaft of hurt. “But… but you live an hour away, Anthony. How will we make this work?”
Anthony’s smile was…. It was almost scary how tranquil it was. “Don’t you worry, baby. You take care of your loose ends, and I’ll take care of mine. We’ll be living on the same side of town by Christmas.”
Reg cocked his head, not sure what to make of that. “But you have an entire business on your side of town. What are you—”
If anything, the smile grew wider. “Come on, Reg. Trust me!”
Reg’s eyes narrowed, but at that moment the waitress arrived with their appetizers, and the next hour was a sort of delirious mix of oysters sauteed in butter, herbs, and breadcrumbs, filet of sole crusted in macadamia nuts, and a chocolate ganache so exquisite, Reg wasn’t sure it was real.
And by the time he and Anthony were done being immersed in food (and ever so glad it wasn’t cheese, no matter how awesome), Reg realized that the one thing that was absolutely true that he had learned from their evening was that, yes.
Yes, he did trust Anthony McCauley. And he was willing to work to keep up his end of the bargain so Anthony could trust him.