“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.
Chapter Ten
Marc
Ipulled up in front of Alonso and Elena’s house just after lunch on Friday afternoon, the tires of my old truck crunching on the gravel driveway. Mia unbuckled herself from her booster seat and grabbed her backpack, bouncing with excitement. “Uncle ‘lonso said we’re going to bake cookies!” she cried out and grinned up at me.
“I thought you liked my cookies best.” I smoothed back her wavy hair and kissed the top of her head. She’d had a doctor’s appointment that morning, so I kept her home from school, and she’d chattered all day about spending the night with her cousins, her first real sleepover. “But that sounds like fun,mija. You be good for them, okay?”
“I will, Papi.” She hopped out of the car and ran up to the front door as it opened.
Elena greeted us at the door, pulling Mia into a tight hug. “You look taller every time I see you,” she said, squeezing her shoulder. “Hey Marc.”
