Easy Does It Twice

by Gianni Holmes

  “You need a friend to talk to, I’m always around,” he remarked and reached a hand to squeeze my shoulder. “I mean that. You can come to me at any time.”

  My smile dropped a little and twitched. He still held onto my shoulder, and his squeeze turned into a caress, a little massage. “Thanks for the offer,” I sputtered out, too surprised to react. On the one hand, he was the only one willing to try to understand my situation, but on the other, he was making me uncomfortable.

  “Good.” He finally released my shoulder, and I silently exhaled, pushing out the breath I had been holding. “See that you do.” He winked at me and turned to leave. Shocked, as his hand fished between my legs and cupped my groin, I couldn't move. He squeezed before he released and walked out. I was too stunned at the unexpected move that I couldn't even voice a protest. I never expected this from him, and not from anyone at the school. I’d been groped in the locker room before as a teen, but never as an adult had I been touched in such a manner without my permission. Except for Ian. I clung to the sink, my anxiety returning full force. My vision dimmed, and I clutched the edge of the vanity, trying to ground myself.

  Now wasn’t the time to freak out. I concentrated on Gordon’s face and how happy we had been the night he had dropped by the community center. Slowly my vision returned to normal but left me feeling weak. I locked myself into one of the cubicles, partly terrified that James would return. I didn't wish anyone to see me so frazzled.

  After a good half an hour in the bathroom, I left feeling almost back to normal. My stomach was still too upset to eat, so I threw away the sandwich I had brought with me for lunch. I didn’t speak to anyone, not even James who ignored me now that he was with the rest of the staff.

  I never thought a day would come when I would prefer my classroom over spending time with my co-workers, chatting in the lounge. Why were they even shunning me now that they apparently knew I was gay? I might not have talked about it, but anyone with a functioning pair of eyes would know how gay I was.

  The first session after recess, I was teaching, and everything was going fine until I caught students passing around notes to each other in the class. I confiscated the piece of paper and read what it said. The message was so graphic I had to stop teaching to address the situation before it got more out of hand. Coupled with being felt up against my will in the bathroom, I had had enough for one day.

  “I don’t want to know the original sender of this note,” I remarked, leaning against my desk. “But I’ll facilitate any conversation you may have on what you may have heard.”

  “Heard? We watched the video,” a pimple-faced youth from the back whispered in a voice loud enough for me to hear, and for those around him to snicker.

  “And I’m guessing you have a problem with the video?” I asked.

  “I think we should have a right not to be taught by someone who’s gay,” another student, Caleb answered.

  Though disappointed in his response, I nodded to acknowledge that I had heard his point. “And can you explain why?” I asked him. “Will you gain any less knowledge from someone because they are gay?”

  He shrugged, unable to reply, but because I didn’t want to delve too much into the video, I decided to wrap the conversation up, and hoped they had learned a little that their thought with regards to me, and my ability to teach them was as bad as their fake French accents. “The truth is that my preference does not affect my ability to teach you. If you learn any less than what you did before, it's because you are refusing to pay attention because you want to use the excuse that I'm gay. My methods have not changed. I'm the same Mr. Moreau who taught you, and you got your As and Bs.”

  The bell rang then announcing the end of class. They all filed out of the classroom, moving quickly. One student, Adam Lacove remained behind.

  “Is there something I can do for you, Adam?” I asked him.

  He glanced around him first then nervously pulled at his bag strap. “I just want you to know I think you’re awesome. You don’t care what people say about you, and I wish I were able to do that.”

  My heart hurt to see him struggling so. I could see how miserable he looked on the outside. Defeated. A gay kid shouldn’t have to feel this way ever. “Thank you, Adam.” I was careful in my next words to him. “You must always be proud of who you are. Never let anyone make you feel like a second-class citizen.”

  “Do you think I should tell my parents I’m gay?” he asked at the same time the classroom door pushed open and the Principal entered. He glanced at the student, having heard enough of what the boy had said.

  “Young man, get to your class immediately,” he ordered the boy who had gone so white, I feared he would collapse from the fear of having his secret exposed. The Principal slammed the door shut behind the student. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, Moreau?”

  “I was teaching and—”

  “I knew I shouldn’t have hired you,” he spat at me. “If only I had followed my gut. I will not let you corrupt these students and turn them into deviants.”

  I straightened my shoulders and lifted my chin. “With all due respect, sir I do not consider myself a deviant. How can I be a deviant if this is what I am?"

  “I’ve no interest in your definitions,” he said. “What interests me is you talking to kids about a sensitive manner which isn’t within your jurisdiction to speak on.”

  “The student came to me, Principal McLean” I explained. “I couldn’t in all good faith turn him away.”

  “By all means, turn every one of them away,” he snapped. “You have no moral soundness to speak to any of our children on this issue. I’d long since suspected there was something queer about you, but I’d hoped you would be sensible enough to keep it quiet. Now that it’s out in the open, we have to take disciplinary matters into our hands.”

  “Disciplinary matters?” I echoed, fear seizing me. My worst fears were coming through. “For what? I’ve done nothing wrong.”

  “Tell that to the parents who kept ringing my phone all day, requesting their children be pulled from your class.”

  “But that’s so foolish. How does my sexual orientation hinder my ability to teach? How does this affect the knowledge I have to impart?”

  “This is a private institution, Mr. Moreau,” he explained. “Parents are the foundation of it all. If the parents want you to go, unfortunately, there won’t be much we can do for you.”

  I tried not to show how affected I was by his news. “What kind of disciplinary actions will you take? I’ve not violated any of the terms of my contract.”

  “I did warn you that in signing your contract you agreed to uphold the moral integrity of this fine institution,” he remarked. “I also advised you what you did in privacy was of no concern to us. Too bad you couldn’t keep what you are private, Mr. Moreau. Frankly, I find it distasteful and an abomination. If it were up to me, I’d have you dismissed immediately. Unfortunately, all I can do at the moment is to place you on administrative leave with pay pending our discussion of this matter.”

  “You can’t do this!” I protested, the blood draining from my face. “This is my career we are talking about. You're discriminating against me because of my sexual orientation.”

  “You call it discrimination. We call it teaching our children high moral values. If you have a problem, you can hand in your resignation. Or, you’ll be given your say during the hearing proceedings. Until then, Mr. Moreau, clear out your space. We’ll call to inform you of your hearing.”

  For the second time today, I was shocked into silence. Principal McLean headed for the door and glanced back at me. “If I were you, I’d be on the first flight back to France. The folks around here won’t take too kindly to someone like you teaching their kids.” He scowled. “Now I’ve some damage control to do.”

  When he left, I sank onto my chair. My disbelief evaporated, and rage took its place. Dismissing me because of my sexual orientation was not right and they wanted to lecture me o
n morals? They couldn’t dismiss me for my sexuality. I had done nothing wrong. My conduct at the institution had always been stellar. I couldn’t let them get away with firing me for no just reason. Yet, I knew my contract would have me doomed. I was not open to representation because I was not allowed the same privileges as an in-state teacher.

  Frustrated, I packed up my belongings. I had to leave now, but I wouldn’t just go without a fight. I enjoyed my job. I loved teaching these kids, and I deserved to work in the profession of my choice regardless of the fact that I was gay. Nobody should have that power to take that right from me because they didn’t agree with my lifestyle choice which wasn’t harming anyone.

  Chapter 28

  Gordon

  “Please leave your message—”

  I hung up before the voicemail could complete, and threw the phone onto my desk. I’d lost count of the number of times I’d rang Ollie. I had barely slept a wink last night, ringing his phone, dropping by his friends' homes late at night, and being given the cold shoulder. At the time, I’d been too worried about him to give a rat’s ass what my neighbors or anyone else thought of me. All I had been concerned about was getting my son home and safe.

  After driving all over the neighborhood without any success, I’d finally crawled back home. I’d tried going to sleep, talking myself into believing wherever he was, he would be safe. He was a smart guy when he wasn’t busy doing stupid things like getting drunk. Thoughts had flooded my mind of all the things that could go wrong that night, and there went my ability to sleep.

  How could everything be such a mess? I’d gone from losing my wife, but having both kids, to losing everything. The only constant in my life which remained unchanged from the world’s discovery of my sexual orientation was work. Everything had gone according to plan. The men had been briefed on their job description before they hit the road. That had gone better than I had thought it would have. I’d sensed unease in the men, but they had smartly not said anything. I didn’t expect them to. After all, I was the one who signed their hefty paychecks at the end of every week.

  A knock sounded on my door. “I’m busy!” I yelled, though I hadn’t completed one single thing since I’d slammed the office door shut this morning. Several checks remained on my desk to be signed, but the pen was still on top of the first one in the stack. How could I get any work done when my whole life had turned upside down? My son was missing, my daughter had walked by me this morning and informed me a friend was dropping her off at school, and I’d erected a wall between myself and the man I loved. I failed to see how my life could get any worse than that.

  Despite me yelling that I was busy, the door creaked open. I spun around in my chair to tell off whoever had disturbed me. I sighed when I realized it was only Glenna. She approached my desk, a cup of coffee perched on a saucer in her hand.

  “I thought you could use this,” she said and placed the saucer on my desk. “You don’t look like you slept any at all last night.”

  “Barely,” I answered and reached for the cup gratefully. “Thank you, Glenna. You always seem to know what I need. You were most helpful to me when Barb died.”

  She smiled at me. “You’re too hard on yourself, Gordon. Stop trying to please everyone so much.”

  I frowned at her behind the cup. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean you’ve been so happy in the past few weeks,” she replied. “You may not have noticed, but I rarely ever heard you laugh before or saw you smile. Since lately, you’ve taken to smiling more. It suits you.”

  All because of Beau. I dropped my gaze to the murky liquid in the cup. Did Glenna know what had happened? I doubted it. She was old school. If she found out, she would probably quit her job.

  “Whatever it takes,” she told me, stepping back for the door. “Don’t lose that smile.”

  I sat at my desk, a long time after she left, and pondered what she said. Snatching my phone from the desk, I found the video of Beau and me kissing. I watched it over and over, studying our faces, how comfortable we were with each other. I examined the way I smiled at Beau and the way he lit up as we talked. I remembered the little moans he made in his throat when we kissed.

  Glenna was right. The happiness I experienced with Beau was rare. Yet, I was torn. I couldn’t dismiss the way my kids felt about us. I wished there were answers written somewhere that I could access. I was selfish enough to want both my kids and Beau in my life. Why should I have to give up either? In a couple of years, the kids would be gone and then, what would I be left with?

  I plunged into work, occupying my mind with other less painful thoughts. Sometime after three in the afternoon, I drove by the house to check if Ollie had dropped by, but saw no evidence that anyone had been there after I locked up that morning. Unable to take the suspense for much longer, I drove into the police station on the way back to work. I was hungry, and my gut was twisting from both fear and the lack of food, but I couldn’t make myself eat a bite. Not in my current state.

  Once at the police station, I hoped neither Eric nor any of his friends were around. I would have never dropped by after what they had done to Beau, but I couldn’t allow my pride to come in the way. I needed to find my son and bring him home. I needed to know that he was alive and alright.

  At the front desk, I was assigned a police officer who asked me what I wanted. After informing her that my son was missing, she asked me to sit in the waiting area, and she would be with me shortly to take my statement. I waited for almost an hour, my knees bouncing in agitation. I had just risen to my feet to return to the front desk to ask what was taking so long, when I spotted Drew in his uniform. He looked as though he was about to start his shift.

  “Gordon?” he asked in surprise, heading for me. “Is something wrong? Why are you here?” He lowered his voice, glancing around him. “Did Eric try something again?”

  I shook my head. “No, the son-of-a-bitch knew better to stay far away after what he did to Beau.”

  “Then what’s the problem? Is it Beau?”

  Thank God. At least someone hadn’t seen the video. “Is there somewhere we can go to speak in private?” I asked him.

  He nodded. “Sure. We can use one of the interrogation rooms. Follow me.”

  I followed him stiffly, uncomfortable in the environment even though it should have been one of those zones where a person should feel safe. After the way Eric had violated our rights, I was uneasy being in the police station.

  Drew led me into an interrogation room, thankfully different from the one where they had held Beau. He gestured for me to sit, but I chose to stand. I didn’t want to overstay my welcome.

  “So, tell me. What’s up?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

  “My son’s missing,” I answered.

  He frowned. “Missing? For how long?”

  As briefly as possible, I explained to him about our argument and Ollie storming out of the house. I detailed the search I had done for him and still no result.

  “Man, that’s tough. I’m so sorry.”

  I shrugged. “At this point, everything else can wait. I just need to find my son.”

  “How old is he?” Drew asked, removing a small notepad and a pen.

  “Seventeen.”

  “Shit.”

  “What is it?” I had a feeling he was about to deliver news I wouldn’t like.

  “We have no legal jurisprudence over a seventeen-year-old runaway,” he answered. “At that age, the law considers them responsible enough to leave home if they so choose.”

  I stared at him in shock. “Tell me this is a joke. He’s not an adult!”

  “I’m sorry. We can’t pick-up a seventeen-year-old.”

  “But he’s missing,” I argued. “While I don’t understand why my seventeen-year-old child should be allowed to leave home and the law can’t do anything about it, I have no idea where he is, if he is hurt or even alive!” The last word came out choked with emotions. “What am I supposed to do? Just si
t around and wait for nothing?”

  “Maybe he just needs time to calm down, and he’ll return home.”

  “And in the meantime, I’m supposed to fold my hands and not worry?” I snapped, heading for the door. “I thought the police was supposed to be here to serve and protect. Since my run in with you guys, all you’ve done is screw me over. Is it so much to ask you to help me to find my son?”

  “Gordon, wait.” I paused and turned to hear him out. “Since no one knows his whereabouts, we can probably act, not in the capacity of a runaway but a missing person. I’ll get on it along with some of the guys who are trustworthy.”

  “Thank you. That’s all I can ask.”

  “Do you have a recent picture of him?”

  “On my phone.”

  “Here’s my number. Send it to me.”

  I sent him a picture I had of Ollie from the mardi gras in New Orleans. Oh, how time flew by.

  “I must warn you that we may not be able to take him in,” he answered. “The most I can do for you perhaps is locate him and let you know where he is. Unless he’s involved in illegal activity, once we locate him, we’ll have to treat the case as a runaway and leave him alone.”

  I nodded, willing to accept that. “That’ll do. I just want to know he’s okay and to talk to him.”

  “I’ll try my best to locate him.”

  We walked from the interrogation room together, and I was feeling much better until we ran into none other than Eric. I tried to side-step the fucker, but he blocked my way, forcing a confrontation. He glanced from Drew to me suspiciously.

  “Fancy seeing you two together,” he commented. “Gordon, I heard you finally became famous with your sex tape.”

  My hands balled into fists, but I refused to let him goad me into a physical display of anger. I still hadn’t forgiven him for the way he had treated Beau and me. But, I was on his turf and getting into a fight here with him would be the biggest mistake I could ever make.