CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
RORKE
We’re in the school auditorium for the board meeting. Everyone is starting to take their seats. It seems all of Fall Springs is here—parents, alumni, students, random townsfolk. I’m sure they’re all expecting quite a show. We should be serving popcorn and charging admission.
I’m used to public speaking. I’ve been standing in front of a classroom for years, teaching about literature’s great lovers, tragedies, epic journeys. But today’s lecture, if you can even call it that, will be slightly different.
So I’ve got a knot in my stomach. My palms are a bit sweaty. I’m pacing, waiting for things to start. I see Sterling talking to the principal in the back. It’s a little animated—I can’t make out what they are saying, but she’s no doubt begging for my job.
The principal leaves her to head up to the front of the auditorium. I catch a look back at Sterling, who is taking her seat next to my mom and her parents, along with Ms. Mirabelle, Tally, Melanie, and the rest of the book club crew. They are friendly faces. My students are friendly faces, too.
Beyond them, I don’t know who’s on my side, and there are a few hundred people here. I certainly can’t trust the principal, taking his seat alongside the other board members, including the school’s old priest and Mrs. Quaid, acting as the town’s supposed moral authority. There are two others on the board, both relatively young women. I need a majority of the five votes to survive.
Standing before a podium, I look over my notes, full of case examples to cite and testimonials from old students. As I shuffle a few things around, the principal opens the meeting by mentioning that I’m the only item on tonight’s agenda.
Strangely enough, that doesn’t make me feel special. It’s shitty, actually. If I didn’t love teaching, and the students, I would’ve bolted a long time ago—resigned myself to working on the farm with my dad.
The principal references my contract and reads the paragraph that contains the morality clause, which, in essence, states that all my actions, both on and off campus, are to reflect the high moral standards of the Church, and that everything I do should be a reflection of Christ.
“Mr. Weston,” the principal continues, “some parents are concerned about the occupation of your fiancé, and how that might affect the children in the school.”
“We think it’s cool as hell!” a boy in the crowd yells out.
I groan inside. One of my current students, he’s a favorite, but he’s not helping my cause. I raise an eyebrow at him, and he quickly comes to order. My eyes land on Sterling, who’s burning a hole in Mrs. Quaid. She represents everyone who’s ever passed judgment on Sterling, talked shit about her.
“What do you have to say about all this?” the principal asks me.
Turning back to the panel, I say, “The occupation of my future wife has nothing to do with my moral fiber or my teaching ability.”
“How could it not?” Mrs. Quaid jumps in. “The Bible teaches us that . . .”
“Ma’am, you don’t want to get into a debate with me quoting Scripture or any other literature.”
“I don’t like your tone,” she says.
“You have no right to call Sterling’s morality into question. Or mine, for that matter.”
“As members of this board, we have that very authority under your contract,” the priest says.
“Judge not, that ye be not judged,” I respond then cut a look to Mrs. Quaid. “I’m sure you’re familiar with that from Matthew.”
“I’m familiar with it, as well,” the old priest says.
“I’m not so sure,” I say.
“I suggest you watch yourself, son.”
I bite my tongue rather than continue fighting with the priest. Getting snarky with him will not help my situation.
I look down at my notes, everything that I planned to say, the former students recommendations I was going to reference. I’ve obviously gotten way off track, not that anything in there will help, anyway. I look over at Sterling, who offers me a sweet smile, encouraging me—to do what, I’m not sure.
“You shouldn’t judge me for loving a woman, no matter who she is, what she does, where she comes from,” I say. “My love for Sterling Jamison is moral above anything else.”
“That’s all nice to hear,” Mrs. Quaid says, “but we need to think about the community as a whole. We cannot have a sex toy manufacturer and distributer as part of the fabric of our school. We have to think about the children. I mean, we can’t forget that selling or possessing these things is actually against the law in our state. The fact of the matter is, you can’t be cavorting with a criminal, Mr. Weston, and also teaching our children!”
I’d been waiting for her to play this card. Sterling had prepped me for it. It gives me a bit of an opening. “A criminal?” I snark, rolling my eyes. “Do you know how many ridiculous laws there are on the books in this country? This state? For example, it’s illegal to shoot silly string in Mobile. Did you know that?” There are a few chuckles in the audience. “Or how about the law that says it’s illegal to flick a booger into the wind. As a teacher, do you know how many times I’ve seen kids picking their noses? Perhaps I should start making citizen’s arrests?” More chuckles this time. I may have gotten even more had I pointed out that both her boys would’ve been in prison a long time ago for that offense, but I leave that part out.
“Those are silly laws,” Mrs. Quaid says.
“Exactly the point,” I quickly respond.
“But it’s hardly the same thing,” she says. “We’re talking about what’s wholesome. What’s decent.”
“What’s indecent,” I say, “is that y’all have already decided to fire me.”
She says, “No, our minds are open.”
“This is just some fake show of fairness,” I say. “So you can pretend to be righteous and just.”
“Mr. Weston!” the priest cries. “How dare you!”
I’ve pissed off the priest again. Oh, well, I can’t seem to help it.
I take a deep breath and scan the panel before me. There’s no way Mrs. Quaid or the priest will ever vote in my favor, they’ve made that clear. Hell, I knew that before we started. I’m sure the principal will follow along with them, so I’m screwed. The two other women on the panel have been silent, so far. I can’t get a read on them. It probably doesn’t matter what they think at this point. I’ll be applying to different schools in short order. Maybe I should just resign at this point, save a blemish on my resume.
No, I won’t do that.
“Forgive me, Father,” I say, “but here’s the thing—I can’t think of a better way to lose my job than to lose it for Sterling. I didn’t come here today to save my job, though I’d love for that to happen. I came because I love her,” I say and give a tight smile to Sterling. “Because I’ll use any forum I have to tell the world that I love her—even here in this auditorium. Because she’s the best person I know. Because I’m proud to be the man she loves. In The Portrait of a Lady, Henry James said, ‘It has made me better loving you.’” I turn to Sterling and say, “I’ve loved you my whole life. Loving you has made me better.”
A few cheers break out in the crowd, and Sterling suddenly gets to her feet, a huge smile on her face and a few tears as well. She heads towards me, and I leave the podium, meeting her halfway, as Mrs. Quaid and the priest call out for me to return to my place. I ignore them completely.
Sterling, and only Sterling, is on my mind. She’s all I care about. Fuck this meeting. Fuck whatever happens to me.
I wipe away her tears before kissing her hard in front of God and the whole town. Then I take her hand and walk out of the auditorium in the middle of the meeting, before a single vote is cast.
*
STERLING
The entire car ride home, I blare Johnny Paycheck’s “You Can Take This Job and Shove It.” It’s good to blow off some steam after the meeting, and after the intensity of the last few days. Rorke even laughs a time or two, but I know he’s not truly happy. He’s really conflicted inside. He loves his students and wants to keep teaching at the school, but he hates the way the administration has handled all this. And, of course, I hate that I’m the cause.
In between singing our asses off, I tell Rorke how proud I am of him, how touched I am. It’s rare to find a guy—any human, for that matter—who would do what Rorke did, and do it as eloquently and confidently as he did under the circumstances. And he did it all on the fly. All his notes, all that preparation, went out the window so quickly. That’s why I did my own preparation—because I knew his would be useless, though I never told Rorke that.
I had a knot in my stomach the whole meeting, but that’s nothing compared to what Rorke must’ve been feeling. It must’ve been so hard for him, being on stage in front of the whole town. I can’t imagine being dragged in front of an entire community. I wouldn’t have handled things as well as Rorke in a public forum. I surely would’ve let loose a string of curses—New York Sterling would have come flying out.
I’m glad he left the meeting when he did. He doesn’t owe any of them one more ounce of his time or energy. Watching him defend me was the most romantic thing anyone has ever done. I think I’m still in a bit of shock. It’s one thing for a man to love you, but quite another to have him throw down the gauntlet and tell the whole world.
We’re barely through the door when his cell phone rings. It’s the principal. We both stop in our tracks. My heart is beating out of my chest as they speak for a moment. I put my ear up to the phone and try to listen in, but Rorke moves a step away. All I can hear through the phone is that the committee voted. I can’t hear anything else. Rorke’s not saying much. I watch his eyes to see if it’s good or bad news, but I can’t tell. He’s not giving anything away.
I swear, if they fuck with Rorke, I will . . .
Before I can finish the thought, I hear Rorke say, “Thank you, sir. I’ll see you at school,” before he disconnects.
“They’re letting you stay?” I cry and fly into his arms.
He nods and gives me a huge smile. “Came down to the last vote.”
“The principal?” I ask.
His brow wrinkles up. “How’d you know?”
“I prepared, too, remember? I had Miles do a little research—check customer records for Fall Springs.”
“Sterling, you didn’t?” he laughs out.
“We had the younger two women in the bag the whole time. You won’t bite the hand that feeds you. They’re good customers. Repeat customers, actually.”
“Jesus, I had no idea,” Rorke says.
“Why would you?” I ask. “Privacy is paramount for my customers.”
“No, I meant I didn’t know they were on my side. They were quiet the whole time.”
“I wish they would’ve spoken up, too. Stood up to that prude and the priest,” I say. “But I don’t blame them, really. Who wants to talk about all this private stuff publicly? And words didn’t matter, anyway. I knew how they’d vote.”
“And the principal?” he questions. “I saw you talking to him before the meeting started.”
“Um, I may have just suggested I could check and see if his wife owns my product.”
He busts out laughing. “Holy shit!”
“And how embarrassing it might be if the fact that she does just happened to get out.”
“Holy shit!” he says again.
“And how that might affect the morality clause in his contract.”
“Holy shit!” he says once more then adds, after reflecting for a moment, “but you’d never reveal customer information. I know you wouldn’t.”
“Of course not. As I said, privacy is paramount. But the principal doesn’t have to know what I will and won’t do. He thinks I’m some crazy, piece of trash, whore lady who’s capable of anything! So let him think it, and let him worry about it—while holding your fate in his hands. So he knew exactly what he had to do,” I say, grinning. “Don’t fuck with my man.”
“You are incredible,” Rorke says and tackles me down to the bed, his blue eyes sparkling.
I look up at him, smiling. “I can’t wait to come to school functions with you. Meet more administration, more parents.”
“You might pick up some more customers,” he says.
We laugh together, and I gently kiss his lips. It’s ironic that this is my favorite place to be, beneath him, feeling the weight of his body, the strength of his muscles underneath my fingertips, when after all, I created and sell the Woman on Top toy. I’m in charge so much of my life—it’s nice not to have to be.
Sitting back on his heels, he begins to undress me. It’s not long before I’m laid out naked before him, his to take. And take me, he does. The man knows how to love me. He always has, even in our darkest moments. And he’s taught me exactly what that feels like. And it’s better than anything I could ever invent in my wildest dreams.