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“Yeah, my grandmother is Emmalynn Gauthreaux. Or she was before she married my Paw-Paw,” I say, already knowing where this is going.
“Mhmm yeah I can see the family resemblance, your mother must have been Lori Leigh then?” she asks, handing me forms and adding, “Sign these.”
“Yup that was my mother,” I reply as I sign everything.
“Okay, here is the handbook, I suggest you read it. We are pretty strict about appearances, and here are their school supply lists, but we have programs if you can’t afford it.” She tries to make it sound sweet but by the look in her eye it’s meant as an insult.
“Oh no, thanks. I’m sure as you know, my family is well-off, and since my parents are dead, and my sister is in prison, I’m also well-off.” I make sure to sound casual, as if I am just telling her the weather, but by the pissed off look on her face she really doesn’t like my family. We are in the middle of such an intense stare down that I don't notice someone else has come in, so when I turn to walk out, I smack right into a wall.
“Ouch! Shit!” I yelp, grabbing my nose, and looking to see who I hit. Wow he’s so hard, but it is very obvious by the equally hot guy he’s holding hands with that I wouldn’t have a shot.
“I’m sorry honey, we didn’t see you there!” and “Are you okay?” they both say at the same time.
“Yeah, I’m fine. It’s okay, I wasn't paying attention,” I assure them.
“Okay, well, I’m Chris Emery, this is my husband Nathan. I’m the principal and he’s a counselor, and you are?” he asks, sticking out his hand.
“Oh, I’m Isla,” I replied, taking his hand and shaking it. “I was registering my boys. We just moved here.” Honestly, I’m still kinda stunned and finding it hard to speak. What is up with the water here? Chris is about 6’1, gorgeous russet colored skin with deep brown eyes, while Nathan has flawless porcelain skin, much like my own, strawberry blonde hair and green eyes.
“Ooh! ‘Bout time we had some fresh meat around here! Please, come to my office and we can talk and make sure your boys have everything they need for an easy transition,” Chris says as he grabs my hand and drags me along. Nathan is trying to hold back a laugh at his husband’s enthusiasm. Still dragging me behind him, he throws questions at me rapidfire.“Okay so, you said sons. How many? How old? What grade? Where did you move from?”
I’m gaping at his husband like a fish. Where does he get this much energy? “I have two; Arden is five and Lochlan is four. They are in kindergarten and pre-k, and we moved from Tennessee.”
Pushing open his office door he continues his friendly interrogation. “Okay, great. Does either one have an IEP? Health issues? Anything to be concerned about?”
“Chris, I’m sure she doesn’t appreciate you pulling her around like that,” Nathan points out gently. “She doesn’t know you, love. And no more espresso in the mornings; you’re firing questions at her like an interrogation,” Nathan softly chides, chuckling. You can tell he truly loves his husband by the smile when he looks at him.
I’m taken back by the sincerity in both their voices . “No, it’s okay, he’s sweet. About the boys, well Lochlan was in speech therapy, but I was going to call around about therapy services, and Arden was recently diagnosed with ADHD and ODD. They also both have PTSD and anxiety, due to umm… trauma.” I see them exchange looks, and I really hate talking about everything we went through, but I know they need to know in order to help… but shit, it makes me feel like a failure.
I stumble over my words as I try to explain.“Uhh… their dad, my ex-husband… he was really abusive, and they will both have a meltdown if they’re being yelled at because they can’t handle it. They are honestly kinda scared of men… and Lochlan will not go to the bathroom if anyone else is in there. Oh, and they both have nightmares sometimes when sleeping… I know they take naps, but occasionally they have accidents…” Suddenly aware that I’m rambling, my voice trails off.
Nathan grabs my hand and gives it a squeeze. “We have the resources to help, and we offer a variety of different therapies. We have a contract with the state so we have qualified speech, occupational, and physical therapists, as well as some trained to deal with different mental health issues. We can set up a meeting with the coordinator once school starts,” he says kindly.
Trying to keep from crying, I sniffle. “Thank you, that will help a lot.”
Chris gives me and Nathan a sweet smile. “I have a question, and I’m sorry if it’s intrusive, but do we need to worry about their dad? Just so I know if we need to put plans in place to keep them safe.”
“Oh um, no he died in a car crash, drunk driving accident a couple months ago,” I grimace.
“Well, I’d say I’m sorry but honestly, I can tell by the look in your eyes that it’s a relief so, good riddance,” he shrugs.
“CHRISTOPER MICHAEL EMERY, that’s rude!” Nathan shakes his head at his husband's blasé attitude.
“I mean he’s not wrong,” I say. “Honestly, I haven’t felt this safe in a long time, so I definitely agree with him. Is there anything else I need, or that the boys will need to start? Also, do you need substitute teachers?” I twist my hands. I haven’t used my teaching degree at all, since I got pregnant 6 months before graduation, and obviously Corin wouldn’t let me work.
“We do have subs that we rotate… Do you have any experience?” Chris asks as he looks through some papers.
“Um, well no… I graduated from college with a Bachelor’s degree in early childhood education, for pre-k through 5th grade, but I never took my Praxis. I was pregnant with Arden when I graduated,” I reply.
“Okay, here is the substitute application form,” he says, passing it to me. “Do you have your driver’s license and social security card? Is there anything that would pop on a background check? We will need fingerprints and a drug test.”
Filling out the paperwork, I try to answer all of his questions. “Yeah I have everything, and nope, I’ve never even had a speeding ticket, and I’m not at all worried about anything showing up on a drug test.”
After I finish with the paperwork and give Chris my ID and social security card for him to make copies, he gives me the information on where to get the background check and drug test done. I tell them goodbye and promise to stop by when I drop the kids off at school.
Going out to my car is like walking through a sauna. Shit, it got hot. I put Maw-Maw’s address in the GPS, because it will take me weeks to be able to find my way home without it. I decide to stop and run into the store to get the kiddos some snacks they like, and some for me and Maw-Maw as well. It’s nice getting to actually drive alone and listen to music for once. I’m about ten miles from the house when I hear a loud pop followed by steam coming out of the hood.
“Mother fucking shitballs!” I yell, popping the hood so I can check, even though I know my radiator hose is busted. Yup there it is, no more hose. I didn’t leave the car seats for the kids, so Maw-Maw can’t come pick me up. Just my luck. I guess I need to look for a towing company. As I’m sitting in the car trying to get Google to load, I hear a car come to a stop behind me.
Great. I’m in the middle of nowhere, so my only thought is please don’t be a creep. Even worse, it’s a cop car, since I’ve had such great luck with police in my past experiences. The door opens and from my vantage point behind the hood I see shiny shoes step out. Oh my sweet baby Jesus…
