Deep for pizza, but it’s still my philosophy for just about everything when it comes to her.
* * *
I love the first day of school. I mean—I love the summer too, being a teacher. But I’m happy to be back in the swing of things. I like watching the tiny kids walk into my classroom, their eyes wide with excitement.
It’s sappy, I know, but I feel like I have the power to change the world in my own small way. Who knows what these kids will turn out to be? And it all starts now.
A little girl with bouncing blond curls and great big, blue eyes hops up to me with a pink backpack over her shoulders—the thing nearly swallowing up her small body. “Mr. Burke!”
“Hi, Hailey. How are you?”
“I’m good! I’m in school.” Her grin is infectious as she beams up at me. I find myself thinking how strange it is that her eyes are the same as her father’s, but that seems to be where the similarities end. Her hair is light to his dark, and some would assume their personalities are of the same contrast.
“Great. Can you go find your name on your cubby and hang up your backpack?”
She nods her head exuberantly and rushes off to do just that. All kids are special—I firmly believe that—but it’s also true that some stick with me more than others.
Usually, to be quite honest, it’s the neglected children I drift more toward. The ones who need a little extra attention. Despite Hailey’s mom having passed away, I don’t worry about her being neglected. Her father, although possibly a little overprotective, is no doubt very caring of his kid.
Still, Hailey is a force. There’s no denying that. I’m sure she’ll be one of my star pupils this year.
After a morning meeting with the entire kindergarten and first grade classes, we start with a silly song and dance to get them awake and their brains activated. And then we move into the entire routine of kindergarten.
I find myself checking on Hailey throughout the day, seeing that she’s thriving around the other kids and in all activities. The kid was ready for school and is, no doubt, bright.
Now, if I could stop remembering the matching eyes belonging to her father who, I’m not sure why, I can’t stop thinking about. We’re total strangers. I didn’t know him before. And I won’t know him after this year. But yet, he’s preoccupying my mind.
The raw, nervous energy he exuded. Clearly wanting only the best for his daughter, but there was definitely fear there. Fear that something would happen to her? Fear of leaving her with strangers?
I’m not entirely sure. But it made a part of me want to comfort him and reassure him that everything would be okay.
I’m not new to teaching. I know how the first-day jitters look. But this seemed different somehow.
Or maybe I just wanted it to be?
I don’t know. I try again to shake it off.
At the end of the day, we line up and walk the students outside to catch the busses and meet the awaiting cars of their parents. Most of the parents who pick their kids up wait in the drop-off/pick-up lane. But there are some outside of their cars, waiting on the sidewalk.
I shouldn’t be surprised to see Rafe is one of the parents out of his car. When Hailey sees him, she darts off and jumps into his waiting arms, pulling my chest tight with an odd emotion I can’t place.
He hugs her tight, and then she pushes him away playfully, making him drop her to the pavement. “Daddy, you’re sweaty.”
Rafe chuckles, and I notice his appearance is rather . . . worn. He’s in dirty jeans, ripped from wear and muddy boots. His t-shirt is tight and clings damply to his skin in places. It really shouldn’t be such a turn-on, but Jesus Christ.
I swear the guy is straight out of some sort of construction-site porn.
I grimace and try to wipe away my inappropriate thoughts. “Good. Lord. Who is that?”
I internally groan at the sound of a fellow teacher, Ms. Cross. “Hailey’s father.”
She bites her bottom lip, and her eyes follow Rafe as he takes Hailey’s hand and leads her to his car. “Wow. Why can’t she be in my class?”
I bristle—which I know is ridiculous. I have no rights to Rafe. For all I know, Ms. Cross is by far more his type, but I still don’t have to like it. “It’s not like he’s here for very long.”
She laughs at that, a giggle falling from her mouth. “That’s true. But I can still observe him at pick-up.”
I roll my eyes. “Professional.” My sarcasm is dry, and she just laughs.
“Oh, please. As if a hot mom showing up in a short skirt and lowcut shirt wouldn’t have you drooling just as hard.”
Tension fills my gut, and I cringe. You see, I’m out. I really am. Just not at work. Why? I’m not sure. No one asked, and I didn’t feel the need to supply my sexuality. I’m not ashamed of being gay, not in the slightest. But this is a small community of mostly conservative uppity people.
I guess I just didn’t want to deal with it.
“No way, I’m as professional as they come.”
She laughs at that, placing a flirty hand on my bicep. “I guess that’s why I still can’t get you to break the rules.”
Right. The rules. As in the staff dating and her regular offers to go out for drinks. I always turn her down as politely as I can. “I’m not a rule breaker, Jennifer.”
She snorts and shakes her head as if she’s disappointed in me. “I’m going to wear you down one of these days.
Not likely.
* * *
“I know, baby. Here,” I hold the medicine cup to Hailey’s lips as she slowly drinks down the pink liquid. She has a fever and a nasty cough. It’s two in the morning because that’s when kids always seem to get sick, and I’m supposed to be up in a couple of hours to head to work.
She goes into another coughing fit, and I hand her a cup of water to hopefully suppress the cough and slide my hand over her forehead. She’s burning up. I hope her fever goes down quickly.
“I’ll be right back, okay?”
She nods her head sadly, out of it and not feeling well. My heart aches for her.
I head into the kitchen, grabbing some juice and pouring it into a cup. I’m sure that will feel better on her throat than water.
Shit. I don’t know what to do.
I’ve been a father for five years, but we lived with my Aunt Jo for the majority of that time. She was a fucking rockstar when it came to Hailey being sick. She swooped in and knew exactly what to do.
I look at the information sheet from school that’s hanging on the fridge. I grab my phone and pull up my email, sending a quick one to Mr. Burke.
I wonder if he knows what the hell to do.
I shake that thought away. Of course he would. Hailey has only had good things to say about him since school started a month ago. She even told me that he’s funnier than me, which I didn’t take offense to. Well, not normally. Funny isn’t something I strive to be—until Hailey.
I always want to make her laugh. And keep her safe.
I hear her hacking away in her bedroom, and my heart sinks. I’ve failed at both tonight. She is most certainly not laughing. Poor kid.
I send a quick email to Mr. Burke, whose first name I still don’t know, but I assume, since his email address starts with “nburke,” it starts with an “N.”