A Christmas Memory (2 page)

“Yeah…sure.” I muttered, at a complete a loss for what else to say.

Further assuring the ladies I was going to be plenty occupied, he added, “He’s even agreed to come and help me put the lights up on the house Saturday. He’s gonna hold the ladder for me and everything. .”

I almost choked on the last of my tea, amazed that I didn’t spew it across the table, soaking the man. It would have served him right if I had.

The bell rang as if punctuating my choking, indicating that the lunch period was over. Coach Sutton sprang from his seat and grabbed his tray like a jack-in-the-box. “Time to go teach these young’uns something about Civics,” he called over his shoulder while walking to the dirty dish station, his meaty butt flexing underneath his rayon warm-up suit. I could see he was wearing a jockstrap. My mouth started watering as I watched him walk away.

With that, the entire situation ended and everyone returning to their classes, leaving me a nervous wreck.
Will this day ever end
?

When the last bell rang for the day, I was more than relieved and ready to make my escape. After that horrid lunch period, I started getting a headache that only intensified as the day dragged on. Now it was pounding away behind my eyes, magnifying every sound to earth-shattering decibels. Picking up my briefcase full of papers to be graded, I snatched up my coat, not bothering to put it on, and made a beeline for the door, seeking escape from the cacophony of noise that was typical of any high school.

The events at lunch and my headache were battling it out in my brain, but competing for supremacy was the knowledge that I was going to have to search out Coach Sutton and make my excuses for his plans for me during the holiday break. The day after tomorrow, the last day of school before the dreaded break, would be my final chance to get out of what had turned into a nightmarish situation. Had I not had this killer headache, I would have done it now, but it was going to have to wait.

Besides, why torment myself lusting after a straight guy by spending time with him? On top of that, he had really started to get on my nerves. Yes, Coach Sutton was an extremely handsome man, who was obviously
not gay
and quite nice to look at. Total eye candy. However, he was becoming more and more annoying, which detracted from his good looks in my eyes. I detested being called ‘Champ’, as well as his use of my last name all the time.
I have a name, damn it
—
use it
. Oh, and I hated the way he would clap me on the back, knocking me off balance, in his good ol’ boy fashion. Or the way he would reach down and grab me by the back of the neck, shaking me a bit, all good-naturedly, of course. I just don’t think he knew how powerful he was, or how much that actually
hurt
sometimes.

I was six foot even, so that had to make him at least six-foot-five. He had the largest hands I think I’d ever seen on a human being, so you can only imagine how painful it could be when he slapped me on the back or pinched my neck with those monster hands. There was, however, something innately sexy about his hands. His nails were always well groomed; a fine cover of dark hair lay tight against his skin. It was the shape that I found so captivating, almost perfectly square. It was if each of his fingers were exactly the same length, giving the impression of them being the shape of a box. I don’t know why I found that so attractive, I’ve never had a thing for hands before.

Rounding the corner to the teacher’s parking lot, I looked up and there leaning against my old junker of a car was Coach Sutton, smiling away.
I’m in hell, that’s what this is. My own personal purgatory.

“Hey there, Champ!” he greeted me cheerily.

I wonder if he’d miss his lips if I ripped them off his smug face?
“Uh…hey, Coach.” My jaw was clenched so hard I was surprised I could even speak. “What can I do for you?”

His face turned serious, losing its customary grin. “I wanted to apologize for jumping in at lunch. Maybe I shouldn’t have gotten into your business like that, but I’ve been there myself, and there is nothing worse being put on the spot like that.”

“Yeah, well, I do appreciate it,” I replied, my jaw loosening up a little, a bit surprised by this unexpected apology. “That wasn’t the first time it’s happened, and I usually handle it better. I was kind of caught off guard this time, I guess.”

Coach extended his hand. “We’re good then?”

As I shook his hand, I couldn’t help but notice how mine was dwarfed by his. “Sure, Coach, it’s all good.”

He withdrew his large paw, and the smile popped back on his face. “I’m still going to hold you to helping me out on Saturday. I really do need someone to hold the ladder for me.”

With my head still pounding, I would have made a deal with the devil to get out of there. “Sure…not a problem. I’ll get your address tomorrow and we’ll take it from there?”

“Great!” As if to emphasize this, he clapped me on the back—again. This time it set fireworks off in my aching head, and knocked me off balance. “Hey, Jones, you don’t look so good.” He latched onto my shoulder, steadying me.

“I have this killer headache is all.” I automatically reached for my temple, as if rubbing it would make it all go away.

“Oh…okay.” He looked a bit concerned. “Careful driving home. I’ll see you tomorrow, Jones. Take care, now.” Coach’s hand slid down my shoulder, lightly grasping my bicep, before letting go.

“Sure, Coach…I’ll be fine once I get some aspirin in me.” I clenched my eyes shut for a moment, trying to push the pain back. When I opened my eyes, he was still there, studying me closely, a look of concern still on his face. “I’ll be fine,” I assured him again.

“All right then,” he said letting it go, but still looking closely at me. “I’ll catch up with you mañana.”

I only nodded in response as I got in my car.
Could this man
get
any more irritating? Mañana? Really?

I watched as he walked away, happy for the opportunity to admire his magnificent ass. He met up with the cute girls’ Phys Ed teacher, Halley Roberts. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, hugging her to him as they walked away.

So that’s his type…why doesn’t he ask
her
to hold the fucking ladder for him?

* * * * *

The first order of business when I got home was going to be taking two aspirins and lying down for a bit. I thought about my day as I drove home, ending with my last interaction with Coach Sutton. As irritating as he was, I had to admit that his seeking me out to apologize was really decent of him, and it did seem as if he understood the situation I had gotten myself into at lunch. Then I groaned, realizing I had agreed to help the man on Saturday after all, which I’d fully intended to get out of doing.

It’ll be okay. I’ll help him out, then that will be the end of it.
After that, I would steer clear of him as much as I possibly could. That way, I could stick to my original plan of avoiding any type of social interaction with my co-workers if possible. It wasn’t that I was anti-social, but I’d gone to great lengths to cultivate a particular persona as part of my career. There was still a certain stigma for a gay public school teacher, as I’d witnessed more than once. There had been many careers destroyed, once teachers had been found to be queer, and through no fault of their own. Those who had tenure fared better, but even then, there was no guarantee they were safe in their jobs.

I’d purposefully chosen a community which was a distant suburb of a large metropolitan city. Small enough to have a good school system, but still close enough to a decent-sized gay community for a social outlet, just not too near. It was sufficiently far enough away that if someone happened to see me in such an environment, the chances were that they would be there for the same reason. They couldn’t bust me without busting themselves.

As part of this new persona, I had given myself a complete makeover that had transformed me into a total geek. While in school, I’d found that if you went to a Goodwill store in a good neighborhood, the clothing you found there was of a much better quality. If you were lucky enough to hit it after some old geezer had kicked the bucket, and his family dumped all his clothes off, you could get a really nice wardrobe… cheaply.

Before I even started interviewing, I had started to keep my eye out for such an occurrence, and before long, I hit pay dirt. In one visit, I was able to purchase everything I needed for my new look. Pleated pants, albeit a little large, name brand dress shirts, all permanent press, some great sport coats, and the icing on the cake—bow ties. The sport coats were the only things that had me worried. First, they tended to be a bit more expensive, and the look I was going for was less than what would be considered currently fashionable. Specifically, I was looking for tweeds, corduroy or anything that looked like the nerdy professor type. Permanent press shirts that I didn’t have to iron were essential. I didn’t want them to look too crisp. Bow ties, which I kind of liked, would make sure that I never had an open shirt collar, keeping me even more buttoned up. Everything I purchased was either baggy or a little larger than my normal size. The whole look was that of someone wearing a sack—no real shape.

I found a pair of old-timey glasses at an ‘Antique Store’ that was more of a flea market, and took them to get my prescription put in them, adding to my new persona. From now on, I would only wear contacts when going out for fun. I even let my hair grow a little long, keeping it a bit on the shaggy side. Overall, the look was that of a skinny, nerdy geek. Perfect.

There were several good reasons for this. One, I would become less attractive to students. Not being all that much older than they were, the last thing I wanted, or needed, was some schoolgirl or boy having a crush on me. Secondly, I would be less conspicuous to my peers, letting me blend into the background, and thirdly, it would keep my sexuality out of the equation.

Now that I had been in the position for close to four months, it was astounding how well my plan had worked. I could take command of the classroom and have the respect of the students as well as the other faculty, all without drawing much attention to myself.

First-year teachers were always scrutinized more closely, constantly evaluated and judged. Up to this point, all reviews and comments I’d received had been excellent. When I purposely let it slip that I was going for my PhD, it was enough to impress the principal into giving me a pass on some of the extra-curricular activities that many of the other teachers had to perform. The promise of having a Doctor on staff was something every school system wanted; it was like a status symbol. ‘We’re good enough to have a Ph.D. on the faculty.’

This was part of my strategy, of course. Not only would it make me more desirable in the job market and give me more status, but also I’d be better off financially. What I
really
got out of it was I liked learning. Being a student was something I enjoyed, and history was my thing.

At first, when I was starting high school, I thought archeology would be the best job in the world, until I found out the job market was slim to none. Having experienced being poor, that was one thing I never wanted to face again, so I had to reevaluate that thought. Finding out history was almost as good, I went with that. One history teacher, European History to be exact, once asked me why I was so fascinated with the subject. At the time I told her it was because I thought it was cool. A few years later, when I thought about it again, I had to admit it was also something else: I was a voyeur, plain and simple.

History was like looking into others’ lives, learning how they lived, what they did, how they thought, and even how they loved. I guess since I was always on the outside looking in at the rest of society, or so it seemed to me at least, watching others became a fascination and a hobby. What captivated me even more, was that through the ages the one thing that never changed was how screwed up romantic relationships could be. They never seemed to work out. There were more murders, assaults and other acts of violence all committed in the name of love, than in most any other type of circumstance. If that were the case, I’d abstain, thank you very much. Besides, I was too busy to have a love life anyway.

When I got to my small apartment, I downed two aspirin, and then decided a nice cool glass of white wine was in order. With said glass of wine in hand, I sat down at my little dinette table turned desk, and pulled out the stack of papers to be graded. Focused on the task at hand, I was able to put the disastrous day behind me and not think about what was coming up on Saturday. Result: my headache faded into the past.

* * * * *

The last day before the holiday break went smoothly. I was actually enjoying it, until lunch period, that is. It was then that Coach Sutton sat down across from me once again. Why he had chosen to pick me as his new lunch companion recently was still beyond me, but I wished he’d go back to sitting at the other end of the table again.

As soon as he sat down, he passed a slip of paper across the table at me. I knew what was on the paper without even looking at it. The turkey sandwich I had been eating quickly lost all flavor. Looking up from where the paper lay to Coach, I saw the beaming smile plastered on his face. The man was becoming so irritating that I was starting to downright dislike him.

“I thought we could get an early start. Eight okay with you?” he asked me as he munched on nachos from the school lunch line. “I’ll have some coffee and donuts or something waiting.”