The email is overly formal and dripping with condescension, and it makes me fucking angry on her behalf.
In the email, he cites concerns raised by members of our school community regarding Bradleigh, as well as exploring alternative options that might be in Bradleigh’s best interest. He goes on to say that the current environment is “clearly challenging for her.” As an added insult—aka “after much prayer and reflection”—he goes on to say it would be prudent toconsider transferring Bradleigh to a school better equipped to meet her unique needs.
He even attaches a list of nearby institutions and offers to assist Victoria in planning to ease the transition.
Bastard.
My jaw clenches so hard it’s a wonder my teeth don’t shatter.
If the devil is a person, surely Rod Dumplant would qualify.
Deciding for Bradleigh—behind my back and behind Victoria’s back—that she would be better off somewhere else? That we’d be better off without her? He might as well have said outright that she doesn’t belong at Saint Helena.
My eyes move down to the next email.
Victoria had responded almost immediately. She rejected his offer and asked for a meeting between the three of us to understand what steps are being taken to address the harassment her daughter has experienced, rather than move her out of an environment she’s already adjusted to.
I smile when I read it, thankful she’s not going to bow down to Rod’s ridiculous suggestion, but it also makes me angrier. She shouldn’t have to defend her daughter’s right to exist at this school. Rod knows this isn’t a practical solution for Victoria—not with her long work hours and inability to juggle even more of a commute. He knows, and he still chose to frame this as if he were doing her a favor.
But the thing that pisses me off the most is that he copied me into the email in the first place. He wants me to be complicit—to nod along to his sanctimonious, little charade.
When I was a pastor, I used to speak on the paradox of tolerance. It’s essentially a philosophical concept that goes like this: if a society is too tolerant of intolerance, it will eventually be dominated by intolerance, which will therefore undermine the principle of tolerance itself.
My fingers hover over the keyboard, and I ruminate on Rod’s email for a few minutes before deciding to respond.
Fuck it.
I email Rod and let him know that we need to talk, making sure I loop Chase into the email. Then I email Victoria separately, agreeing to her meeting, and ensuring she knows that inmyschool, as headmaster, Bradleigh is and always will be welcome to pursue her education. I’m not shy about stating that I disagree with Rod’s email, either.
Just after hitting send, my phone lights up.
Julian
We need to talk.
Running a hand through my hair, I let out a long sigh.
Now?
Julian
Yes.
Okay. I’m at home if you want to stop by.
Julian
Sure. I’m at a bar downtown so I’ll walk over.
After sending a thumbs-up, I slam my laptop shut and stand up, stretching. Willy comes trotting into the living room, squeaking as he weaves between my feet.
“Yeah, yeah. Let’s go on a quick walk before Julian comes over.”
Grabbing Willy’s leash, I pocket my phone and keys before wrapping his harness around his chest and securing the leash. Though it took a few months, I’d trained Willy to go on walks. He had his own playroom in my apartment with a large enclosurefor when I’m at work, but he’s still a wild animal and needs a lot of exercise. I’m about half a mile from downtown, so I know I have a few minutes before Julian turns up. Despite weighing only three pounds, Willy pulls on the leash and attempts to get into every single thing we encounter. I get a few strange looks, as always, because of his size and giant ears. But after a quick jaunt around the block, he’s panting and seems content with our shorter-than-normal walk.
As I round the corner of my level, I see Julian leaning against the door of my apartment building. As I walk closer, he lifts his head from his phone, looking at me quickly before dropping his eyes to Willy.
“Tell me you did not train a fox to walk on a lead.”
