Teaching Tenderness

by Brittany Cournoyer

  “Stop right there,” I said as I grabbed my discarded jeans off the stairs. Jesus, just how drunk was I last night? “I don’t care about your feelings for me. We’re over. This,” I started to pull up my pants and stopped long enough to gesture between us, “cannot continue.”

  Sebastian rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his impressively large chest. I had to admit, even for being an asshole ex-boyfriend, his body was delectable. Of course, it helped that he owned a fucking gym and spent countless hours there working out. Too bad he was a terrible boyfriend.

  “If I recall, you were the one who grabbed my dick last night. It wasn’t the other way around,” the king of douchery said.

  “And I was also drunker than a horny sailor on shore leave. You know how I feel about us hooking up. I don’t give a shit if I got down on both knees and sucked your dick right there in the bar, you shouldn’t have acted on what I did,” I growled as I made my way down the stairs in search of my shirt.

  “Seriously? You honestly think I was going to pass up that opportunity? You know I’d never do that. We’ve discussed this and how I want you back, Tony.”

  “Do not call me Tony. I hate that name. And put some damn clothes on.” I shot him a murderous look as I paused in the den. I quickly scanned the area and found my shirt lying haphazardly on an end table.

  “I’m sorry. I forgot you don’t like being called that,” Sebastian said as he walked closer to me.

  I turned my shirt right side in and started to pull it over my head. When my eyes were covered by the material, I felt two strong arms wrap around my middle and pull me closer. I quickly pulled my shirt the rest of the way on and struggled to get out of his embrace.

  “Let me go, Sebastian,” I said as I grasped his hands to pull him off me.

  “Why did we even break up in the first place?” he asked forlornly before placing a soft kiss on my neck.

  I felt my body respond even though I tried to fight it. He knew getting kissed on the neck was a weakness, and I hated that he used it against me.

  “We broke up because you couldn’t stop fucking one of the personal trainers at your gym,” I snapped as I pried his arms from around me and stepped back.

  I quickly turned away from him and continued my hunt for the rest of my clothes. I found my belt flung across the couch and didn’t even bother to put it on. My shoes were by the front door, so I bent down and stuffed my socks in my pocket and put on my shoes without bothering to untie them first.

  “Are you ever going to forgive me for that? That was almost a year ago, and clearly you can see that we are still good together. If not, we still wouldn’t be hooking up like this,” Sebastian said.

  “Of course I won’t ever forgive you. I had to go get checked for a fucking STD because I wasn’t even sure if you used condoms with that asshole. One of my student’s mother was the damn nurse at the clinic. Do you have any idea how embarrassing that was for me? I couldn’t even look at her the rest of the school year. Imagine how awkward the parent-teacher conference was!”

  “I’m well aware. You have reminded me of that every chance you get” Sebastian rolled his eyes at me. “But, that doesn’t change the fact that you showed up at the same club I frequent every Friday night and wound up going home with me.”

  “Don’t flatter yourself. I showed up there because it’s the only gay club within a fifty mile radius. I was horny and looking for some dick. I just didn’t expect it to be yours.” My voice dripped with disdain and I glared at him.

  “So that’s it? You’re just going to leave?” he asked me and I was surprised to hear hurt in his voice.

  “Were you expecting us to cuddle and eat breakfast in bed? Sorry, not happening. If you wanted us to do that kind of shit, then you should have kept your dick out of Eric’s ass.”

  Sebastian flinched and shifted on his feet. “I just thought that maybe we could pick up where we left off.”

  I scoffed and twisted the lock on his front room door and pulled it open. “Don’t hurt yourself thinking too hard. That shit is never happening. Do yourself a favor and if you ever see me out at the club again, walk in the other direction. This will never happen again.”

  Sebastian stared at me as I walked out the door. I was only a few feet away when I heard him yell behind me, “We’ll see about that.”

  I climbed in my car and laid my head against the steering wheel. Fucking tequila. I should have known better than to take those shots. But after the long week I’d endured, especially with Jackson Anderson, I felt like I deserved to be able to cut loose and have some fun. Fat lot of good that did me. Waking up next to my ex, Sebastian Murdock, was not what I had in mind.

  Two years I wasted on that rat bastard. Two long years that I was blinded and ignorant to the fact that he was a lying, cheating scumbag. I was under the illusion that he loved me just as much as I loved him. I thought that we would get married some day and live a stupidly, clichéd happily ever after.

  So, imagine my surprise when I paid my boyfriend a late-night visit to the gym he owned. I figured it’d be a nice gesture to show up with a hot dinner for him to eat instead of the salad he usually packed. It was after hours so I knew the place would be empty—it wasn’t a twenty-four hour type place—except it wasn’t empty. Nope. Right there in the weight room was my boyfriend pounding something other than a punching bag—Eric’s ass.

  Needless to say, some names were called, tears were spilled, and punches were thrown. When I left, both of the guys were standing there butt ass naked with the exception of spaghetti sauce. I went home that night, packed up my shit, and went to stay at a friend’s house. But for some reason, every single time I drank, I always wound up in Sebastian’s bed again. I had no idea why or what drew me to him. I just knew it needed to stop. I couldn’t continue the toxic behavior or giving him the wrong idea.

  With a groan, I started the engine of my car and drove to my apartment. A quick shower, and a few pain relievers later, I was sprawled out on my couch with the television on. A stack of ungraded papers rested on the coffee table begging for my attention. I knew I needed to get them done, but I wasn’t in the mood. Thank God, I had the weekend left to recuperate.

  As I laid my head back on the couch pillow, I couldn’t stop my mind from wandering to Jackson Anderson. I recalled his behavior for the past few weeks and was instantly reminded of a student I had during my first few years of teaching. I remembered the conversation I’d had with another teacher—who was actually my mentor—and what she suggested made perfect sense.

  I sat up too quickly, the throbbing in my head making me wince in pain, and I rifled through the stack of papers until I found Jackson’s. I quickly skimmed the paper looking for any tell-tale signs and sighed when I found what I was looking for. I started to formulate a plan and figure out when I was going to put it into action. But first, I needed a nap.

  Chapter 5

  Marcus

  I’m a firm believer that when you punish your child, you also wind up punishing yourself. Thanks to my son’s sullen mood, the weekend crept by at the speed of a sloth on its slowest day. Basically, since Jackson was on lockdown, I was on it as well.

  Even though I had mountains of paperwork at the office that needed to be done, I didn’t want to leave my son. His comments about me never being around still lingered in my mind, and made me feel guilty the second thoughts of work started to surface. The last thing I needed to do was leave him all weekend with a babysitter. So that meant I got to listen to him moan and complain about how bored he was, and didn’t have anything to do.

  Suggestions of “read a book” or “clean your room” were brushed off with lethal glares and mutterings under his breath. I knew I should’ve reprimanded him for his behavior, but I couldn’t do it. I felt like there was an underlying reason for his conduct at school that he wasn’t ready to share with me yet. I couldn’t bring myself to force it out of him and cause further strain in our relationship. So I let his behavior slide a litt
le bit.

  “Can I please go to Quincy’s house?” Jackson asked for the tenth time that hour.

  “No,” I answered, not taking my eyes off my computer screen. Just because I still had work to do at the office, didn’t mean that some wasn’t brought home with me. Although I still felt guilty about doing it. But hey, at least I was at home, right?

  “Why?” Jackson whined as he flopped down on the couch beside me.

  I sighed as his motion caused the computer that was sitting on my lap to shift, and I had to catch it before it hit the floor. “What part of ‘you’re grounded’ do you not understand?”

  “But just think about how much work you’d be able to get done without me around to annoy you,” he pointed out.

  I pretended to think about what he said to me. “Valid, but not going to work. Go clean your room.”

  “But, Dad!” Jackson protested. He really had perfected whining.

  “Now. And maybe, once it’s done to my specifications, we’ll see about adjusting your punishment.”

  Jackson made a noise in his throat like he was going to argue some more, but then stared at me with his puppy dog eyes. Normally, under any other circumstances, they probably would have worked on me. But not this time. I had to stand my ground with him. Education was important to me, and I didn’t appreciate him screwing around with it. And maybe I was holding a little grudge over the fact that he embarrassed me in front of his teacher. I had never laid eyes on the man and when I finally did, my parental skills were put into question. Not that I thought that Mr. A would ever say it outright. I couldn’t imagine he’d be that unprofessional, but I could see the judgment in his eyes.

  “Go,” I said firmly, and shooed him out of the room with a flick of my wrist.

  With a huff, Jackson stood up and stomped down the hallway. I braced myself for what I knew was coming next and couldn’t stop the smile that stretched my lips when I heard his bedroom door slam. “Keep that up and I’ll add an extra week!” I called out to him, but we both knew I was full of it.

  Jackson might have gotten his looks from me, but his attitude was one hundred percent inherited from his mother. So even though it was difficult not to wring his scrawny little neck at times, I couldn’t really fault him for something that he didn’t have much of a handle on yet. Especially since puberty was hitting him with a vengeance. Yup, my patience was tried numerous times a day, and my nerves were stretched very, very thing.

  Rebecca’s temper was legendary in both of our families. Had I known at the time what I was walking in to, I probably wouldn’t have popped the question to her. Even when her brothers had laughed at me once Rebecca and I’d announced our engagement, and even asked numerous times if I was sure I knew what I was doing, I still was blissfully ignorant to what she was capable of. School, sports, and part-time jobs kept me so busy that I hadn’t really paid that much attention to how she really was.

  It wasn’t until about a month after we said “I do” that her true colors started to show. At first I made excuses for her behavior. We were young, only twenty-two, when we’d gotten married. I chalked it up to being a bit immature and unsure of herself in the role of a wife. I was just starting out at my job, and my salary was decent enough that Rebecca didn’t have to work if she didn’t want to—a chance she jumped at.

  But I couldn’t help notice that her behaviors didn’t change. She spent more money than I made and ran up mountains of debt. When confronted about her spending habits, she tried every manipulation tactic possible. She tried to guilt me for working so much, and tears if I raised voice in a little bit of anger. She learned to turn those waterworks on so well she deserved more than one academy award. And if those didn’t work, then came full on anger and rage. Her raised voice eventually morphed into breaking and throwing things. And eventually that wasn’t enough, and she’d become physical.

  I made more excuses for her to try and justify why she acted that way. I argued with myself that it was because she was the youngest child out of four, and the only daughter. So she was just spoiled, right? But my excuses sounded lame, even to myself. So I began to work longer hours so she’d have more money to spend, and in all honesty, I just didn’t want to go home to her anymore. I hated the fact that I was so unhappy after only a year of marriage—yes only a year—but a person could only endure so much. And as fate would have it, one afternoon after consulting a divorce attorney, I walked into my house to Rebecca waving a positive pregnancy test in my face. And I knew I couldn’t leave her.

  Once it was confirmed that Rebecca was indeed pregnant, I had false hope that maybe, just maybe she’d mellow the hell out. Yeah right. Those were the worst nine months of my life. In fact, I was fairly certain that she was a freak of nature and was pregnant for about fifteen months instead. Because that’s how long it felt like she was to me. Every single day she complained about being fat, gross, and in pain. And the labor part of it? I was pretty sure that every patient and employee of the hospital heard her screaming what a no good husband and a lousy piece of shit I was. But still I stayed.

  Ironic isn’t it? I was the one who initially wanted to end our marriage, but stuck it out for nine more years, for her to be the one to leave me and Jackson instead. And I can’t say I regret marrying her. I regretted the marriage part. I regretted the pile of debt that I’d finally diminished to a small mole hill. But I couldn’t regret marrying her because of Jackson. And if I had to go through all of the bullshit she’d put me through again, I’d do it if the outcome was that pain in the ass kid of mine.

  “Dad,” Jackson called out in annoyance. “Come check my room, dude!”

  I snapped out of my daydream and looked at the tiny clock in the corner of my laptop. Jesus, how long had I been dredging up those bad memories?

  “Hold on a minute,” I called back and quickly saved my work.

  I sat my laptop down on the couch beside me and made the short trek to Jackson’s bedroom. Before I opened his door, I braced myself for the argument I knew was about to happen. It was about to be full on Armageddon in his room. His opinion of what was clean was definitely different than mine, and even though I was the adult—and parent—he, of course, swore up and down that he was right.

  “Jackson, come on you know this isn’t,” I started as soon as I opened the door. “Clean…” I trailed off when I saw his room.

  Jackson stood there with his arms crossed and smiled smugly. “What was that?”

  “Shut it,” I warned him as I looked around.

  Jackson’s room was that of a typical twelve year old. A twin bed, which was currently made, was pressed against one wall. Across from it was a cherry oak dresser that was topped with a small flat screen television and the latest gaming system. Games, which were usually thrown on the floor, were stacked up neatly beside it and the controllers were resting on top of the console. His clothes hamper was shoved into one corner and was currently filled with the dirty clothes that usually littered the floor.

  A desk, that matched his dresser and bed, was pushed under the window, and his school computer was sitting smack dab in the center. His pens and pencils were actually in the holder instead of spread haphazardly on the desk top, and his school books and notebooks were stacked neatly beside his computer. Movie stubs and random pictures of him and his friends were pinned to a corkboard that was hung on the wall opposite of his bed and a few comic book posters filled up other empty spaces.

  I looked at the floor, half expecting to see a shoe or loose article of clothing poking out from under the bed, but I saw nothing. So with a wry grin, I pulled open his closet door and braced myself for a mountain of shit to fall out. But nope, his clothes and shoes were hung and lined up nice and neat. Exactly how long was I daydreaming about Exzilla?

  “Good job,” I finally told him with a nod of approval. “You really want to go to Quincy’s don’t you?”

  Jackson looked sheepishly at me. “Yeah, his parents rented that new car movie I wanted to go see. And I guess thi
s was my way of saying sorry for what happened at school.”

  The look in his eyes was so hopeful. And his room did look really clean. How could I say no? “Fine. But I want you home no later than nine o’clock, young man.”

  Jackson flung his arms around me, and I savored it for as long as I could before he took off down the hall and out the door. Quincy lived two houses away so I knew he’d be there in no time flat. This parenting thing was hard. And maybe I gave in way too easily. But even with the many mistakes I’d made, I didn’t think I was doing that bad of a job.

  Chapter 6

  Anthony

  “All right class, listen up.” I walked to the front of the room, and the endless chatter started to wind down after I whistled to get their attention. I held up a stack of papers and shook my hand so the pages fluttered. “I have a new assignment for you,” I said with false enthusiasm.

  Groans filled the air and bounced off the walls of the classroom. Ahh, it was sweet music to my ears. Knowing that sometimes I caused those little shits as much misery as they caused me was a great thing. Besides, I don’t think those little punks realized that all the work they did had to be graded by me. So who really was doing more work? Yeah, exactly.

  “This, is a…” I paused for effect as I started passing out the assignment. “Book report!”

  More groans. That sound made my heart happy. Honestly, I would have loved to have gotten by this school year without one of these stupid ass things. I mean, let’s be real, I didn’t want to have to read one hundred and twenty book reports. And this was only my first class of the day, which meant I got to do this spiel five more times. Ugh, this false cheerfulness was going to get old really quick. But unfortunately, it had to be done. And even if I could have put it off until a little later, I wanted to do it now to get it out of the damn way, and use it as a tool to figure out what was going on with Jackson.