Actually Invisible, page 10
The truth was that Cam’s parents were still just getting used to the idea of us being married—which we had done quickly and quietly as soon as it was legal—when we told them we were expecting. Her mother was still calling me “Cameron’s roommate” to all of her friends, most of whom she knew from church. Her father was more welcoming, but he’s the type of person who goes out of his way to make people feel comfortable. Her grandmother, who was also at Christmas dinner, didn’t say much of anything at all, but that wasn’t unusual for her. Though each of them had come a long way since Cam introduced me to them in 2007 (more on that later), I got the feeling that not one of them was exactly thrilled that we were having a baby together.
I was thinking about their stiff smiles as I backed away from Cam and centered her belly in the frame of my cell phone camera.
“You don’t have to say cheese or anything. I’m just going to get your adorable little bump in the picture.” I snapped a series of pictures to be able to choose a favorite later. We had decided to document her pregnancy through pictures to put into a digital album, and we were beyond excited that she was finally starting to look pregnant.
“Did you get enough? I’m cold,” she said, ready to pull her shirt back down.
I reached up and pulled it down for her. “I’m sure there was a good one in there somewhere. Go ahead and sit down on the couch. I’ll get you a blanket.” I walked over to our basket of blankets while she walked to the couch. “Do you want to watch a Christmas movie?” I asked.
But she didn’t hear me because she was looking down at her buzzing phone. “Hold on a sec. My grandma is calling me for some reason. Hey, Grandma! What’s up?”
I brought our favorite colorful quilt to her and tucked it around her legs. It wasn’t like her grandma to call her—especially since we had just seen her the day before.
“Are you sure?” Cam asked her as she turned her eyes to me. “I don’t think Josie would do that. No, you don’t have to—” She stopped talking and listened. By that point, I was sitting beside her with my palms turned up in my lap in an effort to ask what was going on, but she had stopped looking at me. “Okay. I’ll talk to her. Yes, you have a good night, too.” She set her phone down on her lap and closed her eyes.
“What?” I asked. “What did I do?”
“Please tell me,” she began, “that you did not post about my pregnancy on Facebook.”
I hesitated. “We talked about this. I asked you if it was okay if I alluded to your pregnancy without saying too much, and you said it was.”
She snapped her face in my direction and said, “I did not say it was okay. When did I say it was okay?”
Cam and I didn’t see eye to eye on the topic of social media. She thought it was only for people who sought attention because they weren’t getting enough fulfillment in their real lives, and I thought it was a fun way to keep in touch with family and friends. I had asked her a few days prior if it would be okay for me to announce her pregnancy—without being specific, of course—on Facebook after we had told our families on Christmas Day, and she had reluctantly said yes. I had teased her about forgetting she wasn’t in a closet anymore, and she had replied seriously that she just enjoyed her privacy. Her closet was always nearby even if she wasn’t in it.
“I asked you, like, three days ago, and you said it was okay. Don’t you remember?” I was beginning to feel panic rising in my chest. All I had posted the night before was something to the effect of: “We hope everyone had a Merry Christmas! Ours was the best one yet because we got to tell our families we are expecting a new addition in the spring!” I was always careful not to use Cam’s name, always a champion player of The Pronoun Game with plenty of practice from my classroom.
“Josie,” she took a deep breath, “what exactly did you say that caused my grandma’s neighbor to ring her doorbell this morning to ask about her deviant granddaughter?”
“What? Who—” I choked on my words. “I just said we are expecting a new addition in the spring. It could be a puppy for all anyone knows! I didn’t even say your name. I—”
“You didn’t have to! I don’t understand what you don’t understand about privacy. It’s like you don’t think about anybody but yourself!” She got up and walked quickly up the stairs to our bedroom and slammed the door.
“No,” I said quietly, “what you don’t understand is what it feels like to be a woman who is having a baby but nothing to show for it.” I stared at the quilt while considering what to do next. I couldn’t call my dad and tell him about what I was feeling because he was already so sensitive about not being biologically connected to the baby—like we were going to consider him a second-class grandparent or something. I could see in his eyes on Christmas that he hadn’t quit drinking yet—even after being fired from his job for it. I couldn’t put this on him. Amanda was spending the day with her boyfriend and his kids, and my mom and Sam were going to the beach. It suddenly occurred to me exactly what I should do.
I found my laptop charging on the kitchen counter. Without thinking too much about it, I logged in to Facebook, ignoring what appeared to be several notifications, went into my settings, and deleted my account. Cam was right. If we were going to parent together, I had to get my head out of my ass and more carefully consider the feelings of other people. Students were always trying to send me friend requests that I had to deny, anyway, so this would just simplify my life.
After closing my laptop, I walked straight up the stairs and quietly opened our bedroom door to tell her what I had done.
- 25 -
Wednesday, March 20, 2019
I called Donna, our union president, and asked if she would accompany me to a meeting with Mr. Dunham. He hadn’t even asked to see me yet, but I wanted to get it over with. She said she would come to my classroom directly after the last period of the day, and we would talk about the situation before we walked to his office together.
I know I taught that day, but I don’t remember much about that part. The last bell had rung, and students were rushing to their lockers in the hallway as I waited for Donna inside my classroom with the door closed, pacing while I considered how I would summarize the situation for her. She and I had been friendly enough in the past for her to know I’m married to a woman, so that wouldn’t be a surprise. I thought I would just tell her the basics of what I was being accused of before she had to hear it from Dunham or someone else.
I glanced at the clock. 2:32. If she arrives in one minute, that will be 2+3+3, and that’s got to mean—
There was a knock on the door, and I told her to come in. She poked her head in first and looked around to see if anyone else was with me.
“I’m alone,” I said. “Thank you so much for coming.”
“No problem whatsoever,” she replied. Donna is a tall, confident woman with straight brown hair and black-rimmed glasses that remind everyone—students and teachers alike—that she is always one of the smartest people in the room. I’ve always admired her, not only because she is a damn good English teacher but because she never takes shit from anyone.
She sat on top of a student desk. “So,” she prompted.
I sighed and stopped pacing to look at her and then felt too nervous to make eye contact and, instead, looked at various locations on the ceiling as I spoke, “So you probably don’t know Kate Anderson because she’s only a tenth grader and doesn’t have any older siblings. Well, Kate wrote an essay about how she admires me, and one of the reasons was because I’m gay.” I glanced at Donna to find her nodding, so I continued, “And she wrote that she is also gay. So I panicked and turned the whole thing over to Dom Madden, so he could talk to her about it. Rather than doing just that, he called her parents and got them involved, and they happen to be very conservative.”
Donna continued nodding as she said, “Whew. Well, now what?”
“Now,” I looked at her, “they are taking their concerns to the school board next week, and Dunham hasn’t even called me down yet, but I know he’s going to because her dad mentioned in his email that he told Dunham about it.” I bit at a finger, thankful to find a piece of skin.
“Breathe, Josie,” she said. “You haven’t done anything wrong, unless there’s something you haven’t told me.”
“No!” I said more loudly than I expected. “I mean, Kate did talk to me in the parking lot the day she turned in her essay, and she hugged me, and I let her, and—”
“Whoa, take a breath. Did you initiate the hug?” She raised her eyebrows, and I shook my head. “Then what were you supposed to do? Push her? I’m pretty sure that would have been worse. Besides, did anyone even see her hug you?”
I panicked, both wanting desperately to tell her about the emails and wanting to ignore them entirely with the hope that they would simply go away. Isn’t that what they tell you to do to bullies when you’re a kid? “Don’t let them see they’ve gotten to you, and they’ll stop?”
I chose a middle ground. “I’m not sure.” I paused. “Donna, I go out of my way not to talk about my home situation to students because I know there are so many conservative parents around here, and I have been trying to avoid a situation just like this one for years. His email made it sound like I’ve been teaching tenth grade Gay Studies instead of tenth grade English for over a decade.”
“Can I read it?” she asked, and I quickly walked over to my computer, opened my inbox, and opened his message so she wouldn’t see any of the other messages in my inbox. As I was moving over to give her room to sit and read, we both noticed an email notification from Mr. Dunham with the subject line “Please see me ASAP.” She said, “Ignore that for now,” and then took the mouse and clicked on the email from Mr. Anderson.
I watched her face as she carefully read it and wasn’t expecting her to laugh dryly at one point before saying, “He’s a piece of work. His words ooze white mansplainer privilege.”
“I think he’s actually a cardiologist,” I said, not returning her amusement.
“Exactly,” she retorted, closing my inbox and standing up. “We might as well go now.”
Following her out the door and down the hallway, I thought about what other career choices I had. If they fired me, what would I do to make money? Our mortgage won’t be paid off for another two decades at least, so it’s not like I could just stop working.
She must have sensed my growing sense of doom because she said, “It’s going to be okay. It would be illegal to fire you because of your sexuality. You would have quite a discrimination case on your hands that I’m sure the ACLU would be delighted to take pro bono.”
I tried to smile and said, “But can’t they just make up another reason why they’re firing me and make it seem unrelated?”
She stopped in front of Mr. Dunham’s door and turned to face me, grabbing my arms firmly, “You are a great teacher. There are no reasons to fire you. You never miss a deadline, and your test scores are fantastic. Breathe.”
I inhaled deeply through my nose while she still held onto my arms. She let go, and I exhaled as she knocked quickly, and we entered his office.
Mr. Dunham looked from Donna to me and then back to Donna. “Hello, Mrs. Chavez. I wasn’t expecting you.” He looked at me, nodding once, “Miss Rain.” I didn’t have the nerve to correct him. “Please, both of you, have a seat.”
We both sat in the chairs across from him as he remained behind his desk. Donna began, “I’m here as a representative of our teacher’s union, by Josie’s request. Please know that anything either one of you says is essentially ‘on the record.’”
I nodded while staring at the floor, feeling like I was a student about to be disciplined. Unsure if I was supposed to speak first, I waited to be spoken to.
“Josie,” he began with more warmth in his voice than I had anticipated, “I’m sure you know why I asked to see you. Brian Anderson called me last night in an absolute tizzy. He said his daughter wrote an essay about how she idolizes you because you’re married to a woman. Is this true?”
I looked at Donna, and she nodded. “Sort of,” I told him, “but I can assure you that Kate wrote that essay having never once had a conversation with me about anything unrelated to English class, so I’m not even sure how she knew anything about my private life.”
He looked at Donna before saying, “Actually, I called Kate down to my office to speak with her during her lunch period today, and she brought her friend Alexis with her because she was nervous. They both have you for fifth period. Kate was pretty shaken up about the whole ordeal and didn’t say much, but her friend mentioned something to me about a journal entry in your class last week.”
I froze. Why had Kate shared that with anyone? I looked at Donna who was looking at me quizzically, and I said, “Yes, she wrote a journal entry about how she had heard what Brandon Stoneman had said to me and how it hadn’t been right.”
“Well,” he interjected, “did you know the Andersons and the Stonemans are good friends?”
“I—” I hesitated. “I didn’t know until Mr. Anderson mentioned it in his email.” I thought about how poor Kate was surrounded by people who might never accept her for who she is.
“Josie, did you put your hand on Kate’s shoulder that day?” he asked seriously.
I pictured my hand on Kate’s shoulder as I gave her a brief pat of thanks. Before I could answer, Donna furrowed her eyebrows and said, “Mr. Dunham, I think I put my hand on about five shoulders today alone.”
He ignored her and stared at me.
Why had Kate even mentioned it? Or had Alexis seen me do it? I felt exposed, like I had done something lewd. If Kate told him about me touching her shoulder, then surely she also told him about the hug.
“Yes,” I replied meekly. “I patted her shoulder very briefly. But it was innocent. She had written something nice in her journal that she wanted me to read, and I didn’t think it would be right if I didn’t thank her for it.” I leaned forward and put my head into my hands and said, “I swear I had absolutely no idea about her essay at that point. I didn’t know she was questioning her sexuality.” I looked up at him and then at Donna and added, “I thought she was just being a nice person! Did she … ” I hesitated. “Did she say that I had made her uncomfortable?”
My ears were on fire, and I didn’t think I could ignore the lump in my throat any longer. Donna spoke, “Mr. Dunham, Josie has done nothing inappropriate, and I hope you can see that and will be able to stand up to whoever accuses her of otherwise. Remember whose team you are actually on.”
He looked at her and then back to me, as tears started falling down my face, and he sighed before saying, “Josie, I trust your judgment. I personally don’t think you did anything wrong, but what I think doesn’t matter at this point. And, no, Kate didn’t say that she had felt uncomfortable, but Alexis did mention that she saw you do it.”
I felt sick, my head swimming with a concoction of shame, fear, and regret. I had no idea what to say next.
Donna stood up and pulled me by my arm to do the same. “Then we will just have to go to that school board meeting and set things straight, won’t we?”
- 26 -
Donna and I parted ways in front of her classroom, which is about five rooms away from mine in the English wing. Before she entered her room, she told me to try not to worry—that I didn’t have anything to worry about, and hadn’t I gotten used to never being able to make everyone happy? The truth is I felt oddly numb to it all at that point, not sure where my emotions were going to eventually land.
As I approached my classroom, I noticed a group of students waiting for me outside the door. Many were sitting in a circle, hunched over notebooks and either reading or writing, and a few were standing and talking quietly but animatedly about something.
The slam poems. I had forgotten that some kids had asked to stay and work on them that day. I noticed that Kate was absent from the group but then shook my head back and forth quickly to center myself and said, “Well, hello there, everybody! Who’s ready for some poetry?”
They all looked in my direction, most of them smiling, before gathering their belongings to prepare to go into my classroom. As I unlocked the door, Maddie approached me and said, “We are all super excited about this, Mrs. Rein-Thompson. Can we start planning our performance soon?”
I laughed. “Slow down, sweetheart. I appreciate your enthusiasm, but we’re going to have to do a lot of writing and practicing and planning before then.”
“Really?” Josh, a kid from my first period, chimed in. “Because I feel like a lot of us have already written our poems and might just need to practice reading them.”
I turned and looked at the group as we entered the room, and many of them had heard what Josh said and were nodding. “Wow,” I began, “I am truly impressed. Well, is there anyone who wants to start us off by reading what you have so far?”
Josh smiled and said, “I’ll go.”
I smiled back and said, “Okay, great! Let’s all take a seat, and Josh can head to the front of the room.” I settled into a student desk among the rest of them. Looking around as Josh got his notebook out of his backpack, I counted eight students. Lucky number eight. Maybe I should write about trying to get pregnant?
Josh stood confidently with impeccable posture and began to read from a black-and-white composition notebook:
“When my grandmother,
my lao lao, used to tuck me in at night,
she would tell me how I would someday
