Page 12 of After the Rain

"What was the transition like?"

Ezra stirred sugar into his coffee. "Bigger adjustment than I expected. In the city, you can be anonymous. Here..." He gestured around the diner. "Well, here we are, and half the town probably knows we're having coffee by dinnertime."

"Does that bother you?"

"Sometimes." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "Privacy is a luxury I didn't realize I'd taken for granted."

There was something in his tone that made me think there was more to that story, but before I could figure out how to ask, Dolores returned with our pie.

The interruption gave us both a moment to regroup, and when we started talking again, it felt easier.

"Cooper's been mentioning some challenging behavior from one of his classmates," I said, grateful to have landed on parenting territory.

We talked about Cooper's development, his emotional needs during the family transition, strategies for supporting his learning. The conversation felt safe, professional, but as we continued talking, I found myself noticing things about Ezra that had nothing to do with his teaching abilities.

The way he unconsciously adjusted his glasses when he was thinking deeply. How his hands moved when he explained concepts, like he was building ideas in the air. The fact that he left the pecans from his pie on the side of his plate.

"You don't like pecans?" I asked, then immediately felt stupid for noticing such a small detail.

Ezra looked down at his plate with surprise. "Texture thing, I guess."

"Not weird. Cooper does the same thing with mushrooms."

"Smart kid. Mushrooms are basically edible sponges."

I laughed, more relaxed than I'd felt since walking into the diner. "Sarah always said I was enabling his picky eating by agreeing with him about foods I don't like."

“Sarah is the Ex-wife?"

"Yeah."

Ezra nodded but didn't push for details. "How's Cooper handling it?"

"Better than I expected. He has moments of sadness, but overall he seems almost relieved. Like the tension he was picking up on before is gone now."

"Kids are perceptive about adult emotions. Sometimes divorce is less stressful for them than an unhappy marriage."

There was something in the way Ezra said it that made me think he might be speaking from experience.

"You really love what you do," I said, watching his face as he talked about child development.

"Is it that obvious?"

"Cooper talks about you like you hung the moon. And watching you explain things... yeah, it's obvious."

Ezra's cheeks flushed slightly, and he looked down at his coffee cup. Something about that blush did things to my stomach that I wasn't ready to examine.

"Teaching is one of those professions where you either care too much or you burn out. I'd rather care too much."

Our conversation meandered from there—childhood memories, college experiences, the challenges of small-town life. But I noticed we both seemed to be editing ourselves, steering away from certain topics. It felt like we were dancing around something, testing boundaries.

"What made you want to become an architect?" Ezra asked.

"Legos, initially. Then Lincoln Logs, then Erector Sets. My parents probably thought I'd outgrow the building obsession, but it just kept evolving."

"Cooper definitely inherited that gene."

"Yeah, he did. Though he's more creative than I was at his age. I was very focused on following instructions exactly. He builds whatever comes into his head."

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