“It’s ironic, obvs.”
I hmphed. “Well, you should ironically return him to whatever section of hell’s front porch he’s supposed to be guarding.” I looked down at Charlotte, sleeping peacefully in my arms, and whispered, “I’m sorry Daddy and Papa make you live with that mean beast.”
“Hey now!” Zach made googly eyes at his daughter. “Mr. Bingham is just miffed because he had Teddy all to himself before I moved in, and now that Kit’s come along, he’s exercising his cat prerogative to be bitchy. Also, Teddy decided not to go with ‘Papa’ anymore. It didn’t feel right.”
“Way to bury the lead. What are we calling him?” Charlotte, Kit for short, was only six months old, but I assumed she was picking up on names.
“Baba. His family is Turkish and I think becoming a father made him want to create a connection with them, at least symbolically, since his parents passed away a while ago.”
“Baba.” I tested the word on my tongue. “That’s nice.”
The baby stirred and Zach took her from me, having warmed a bottle. After much discussion, we’d concluded that me pumping breast milk was the best solution for Charlotte’s feedings. It allowed her to get all the benefits without me having to nurse her. I didn’t mind pumping, and Zach and Teddy weren’t rigid about it. They supplemented with formula as needed since I didn’t make it to their house every day.
As planned, we’d made it work on our own terms, through constant communication between the three of us. Zach and Teddy were the parents, and I was an extremely doting and involved auntie. From the moment she’d been born and I’d placed her in my best friend’s arms, I had never once doubted we’d made the right decision. If anything, bleary-eyed and sleep deprived as they were, I imagined the guys wanted me in their lives more, not less. But I felt it was important to keep the line clear. As much as I loved her, Charlotte had two parents, not three. Still, I had moved closer to Teddy’s house during my second trimester, and often popped in for dinner or, as on this day, breakfast. I’d been by Teddy’s side for walks in the park and had laughed hysterically when Zach tried to configure the baby wrap around his chest for the first time. I had enjoyed every moment of growing Kit in my belly, but the part I liked best was having the husbands with me for every appointment, watching Zach light up as he listened to the heartbeat, seeing Teddy clutch invisible pearls when they found out they were having a girl.
I could see a future ahead of us where I helped plan a few birthday parties or accompanied them to Disneyland. Zach and Teddy would defer to me when the time came to talk to Kit about using tampons. We would continue to maneuver as we saw fit, knowing that our bond was strong enough to anchor this unconventional situation.
Zach got his daughter settled with her breakfast. And even though she was a dead ringer for her baba, it seemed certain she would be mischievous like Daddy. Arms free of baby duty, I dug into my Cap’n Crunch. It was already soggy, but I wasn’t picky. I was excited to head into work. I had a feeling it was going to be an interesting day.
“Are you nervous?” Zach asked.
“A little. But it’s a school I’ve never been in before and the potential for catastrophes isn’t as high when you’re just filling in. Hopefully, it will help me get a full-time position somewhere next year.”
The timing of my pregnancy had worked out well. My dream of helping people—especially making sure kids felt seen, heard, and loved—had kept me going during the accelerated program I’d used to get my credentials and student teaching completed. I may not have wanted to be a biologist, but I loved teaching biology to kids. I’d finished the requirements before I’d needed to quit working, and filling in as a substitute since Kit’s birth had been a great way to stay in the game. Still, I itched to have my own classroom in the fall.
“I know you’ll knock ’em dead.” Zach reached over to pat my hand. “And thanks for coming by with more bottles. I hope it’s not too difficult to keep pumping.”
“Meh. I just sort of hook myself up and read. That industrial pump Teddy rented does the job. I’ll text you about how it goes today.”
Zach smiled at me as he snuggled his daughter, who proceeded to spit up on the Seahawks onesie she was wearing. I got up to put my bowl in the sink and Mr. Bingham watched as I dumped the milk down the drain. I rinsed the bowl, so he wouldn’t get even a smidge of a taste of it. He showed me his butthole.
I usually workedon the northeast side of the city, but that day I was at a high school closer to downtown. My assigned classroom was a bit of a mess because I wasn’t substituting for the regular biology teacher. I was filling in for another long-term sub who had gotten a bad flu. I’d be here four days, executing some straightforward lesson plans. Making things even easier, the school was on half-days this week due to parent-teacher conferences in the afternoons. Since I wasn’t part of those, I planned to spend my free time after lunch prepping for the next morning.
The class was working with microscopes desperately in need of cleaning. After I did that, I assessed the room, frowning at the lifeless space. The out-of-date informational posters and bare bulletin boards were probably not doing much to inspire students. Since I had time, I located butcher paper and replaced the white bulletin boards with a deep purple color. I googled some interesting pictures of magnified human body parts—students were always fascinated by the idea of eyelash mites living their best microscopic lives on people’s faces—and printed them out to post.
As I hung the images, the cheap printer paper barely survived the stapler, so I feared the boards wouldn’t last the week with rowdy teenagers coming and going. I recalled seeing a laminating machine in the flex space between the classrooms.
I was turning on the machine to warm up when I heard Ms. Leong next door talking to one of her conference attendees. “…have seen tremendous improvement since he got here. It was iffy for a while, but he seems to have turned a corner.”
That sounded good. I guessed it was easier to have conferences when you could give the family a positive report.
“That’s a relief. He’s been working hard, and it’s good to hear it’s paying off…”
Oh. My. God.
I froze, a stack of laminating pouches sliding through my fingers, scattering onto the floor as every hair on my arms stood rigidly at attention. I shrank back and my breath hitched at the continued sound of his voice. His words whirred together, drowned out by the ringing growing louder and hotter in my ears.
“He’s also been speaking up more in class.” Ms. Leong still hadn’t seen me, hadn’t noticed me drop the stack of plastic sheets.
“Great. I was worried he wasn’t making friends. It’s been slow, but he’s finally met some new people.”
My innate sense of self-preservation kicked in. I bent down and tried to pick up my mess as quietly as possible, intending to sneak back into my classroom. Why wasn’t he in Pasadena? One sheet had somehow scattered underneath the table, so I had to reach for it. And because my arm was shaking, and because Murphy’s Law is absolutely a thing, I accidentally swiped the cord with my hand and the laminator came crashing down to the floor.
Crack!
The machine was still intact—thankfully, I hadn’t broken expensive equipment on my first day here—but the noise of it colliding with the floor was deafening, echoing in the small space between classrooms. The other teacher was immediately in the doorway. “Ms. Baxter, are you alright?!”
“I’m fine.” I raised my arms up as if to prove it. “Just a minor mishap with the laminator.” I put the machine and the pouches back on the table, hoisting myself up. I had just enough time to turn around and dust off my elbows before he came in behind Ms. Leong.
