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But whoever filed the complaint has made it a big deal.
Something something, a public schoolteacher shouldn’t have a public podcast where she discusses sex and reads explicit sex scenes out loud.
Never mind the fact that it wasn’t public until today, that it’s been operated anonymously. I suppose I could just deny it’s me, but I guess once you do know it’s me, it’s easy to connect the dots.
I’m fucked. And the funny thing is, this is exactly why I wanted to keep the podcast a secret, because I knew that someone somewhere would take offense at it and then call for me to lose my job over it.
And that’s exactly what’s happening.
Harrison finishes reading and hands the phone back to me.
“Sue them,” he says angrily.
“I can’t sue them.”
“They have no right to fire you over something you do in private. Over sex? Over discussing sex? That’s preposterous.”
“They’re looking for any way to vilify me, you know that.”
“Not they,” he says. “Someone. Someone who filed the complaint. The school board will side with you, once you state your case. Not that you should have to state your bloody fucking case; you’re entitled to do whatever you want on your own time so long as it hurts no one, and this hurts no one.”
“Except that someone wants to hurt me. They want to prove a point.”
“It doesn’t say who they are.”
“No. But I have an idea. It’s either someone from Joey’s family or it’s Amy’s mother. The town crier. She’s blocked a bike lane from being built, a bike lane that would prevent the dozens of accidents and collisions we have on our main drag every year, just because it would promote tourists to come visit. If she’s that rooted in stasis, there’s no way she’s going to let this fly.”
He sighs. “I guess we’re going to have to wait and see. You know I’m coming with you, right?”
“I’ll be fine.”
He puts his hands around my waist and dips his head, looking at me sincerely. “It’s for your own protection, and I mean it.”
He leans in and kisses me gently. “I’m really sorry it had to be this way,” he murmurs, running a hand through my hair. “I thought we had a little more time with each other before we were exposed.”
“I did too,” I tell him, kissing the corner of his mouth. “But I don’t regret it. I don’t regret it coming out, because I have to say, I was feeling pretty sick at the thought of keeping it from Monica. I would have kept the secret for you, but it didn’t feel right. Now she knows and . . . I guess she’s okay with it.”
“She owes Eddie money,” he says with a soft smile. “I guess he bet that one of us liked the other one. I wonder if she owes him double now that it ended up being mutual.”
“Liked,” I say. The word, though accurate, sounds so small and puny on my tongue. “I more than like you, Harrison Cole.”
“And I more than like you, Piper Evans.”
“And I think the two of you are the cutest thing since sliced bread,” my mother’s shrill, tipsy voice comes through, breaking us apart.
“Since when is sliced bread cute, Mom?” I say wryly.
“Since you cut a little happy face in it,” she answers matter-of-factly.
The thing is, I should be mad at her because she’s the reason that this shit is all happening. But I know it’s not her fault. And the last thing she needs is to know that I’m being investigated by the school board. It’s better I say nothing at all.
She gives us another approving look before she walks into the washroom and closes the door. I grab Harrison’s hand and give it a squeeze. “I’m not going to tell her about the email, just so you know.”
“Why not?”
“Because she’ll blame herself. And rightly so, but it will send her on a downward spiral.”
“But doesn’t your mother have a right to know? You can’t keep hiding all the bad things from her, Piper. You know it doesn’t work.”
He has a point, but he doesn’t have my mother.
“I’m protecting her,” I tell him. “You of all people should know what that’s like.”
He studies me for a moment and then nods. “Come on. Let’s at least try to enjoy the night.”
He gives my hand a squeeze and leads me to the back deck.
* * *
Monday rolls around before I know it.
I did my best to try to slow the weekend down. On Saturday, Monica, Eddie, Harrison, and I went for a walk along a trail not many tourists know about, named for the Canadian astronaut Chris Hadfield. It takes you past old-growth cedar groves, then through a fairy-tale-like forest with exposed veins of quartz and moss, and along a gurgling creek that runs out into the ocean, to a grassy knoll where you can sit and watch the pleasure boats, seals, and sometimes orcas glide past.
