Page 25 of After the Rain

Wade's disappointment was obvious. "Shit. I'm sorry, Ezra. I didn't think—I should have considered how it might look."

"It's not your fault. In a small town, people notice things. And they make assumptions."

"What kind of assumptions?"

I couldn't tell him the truth—that Mrs. Garrett had essentially accused me of using Cooper to get close to him for inappropriate reasons, that my sexuality made innocent interactions seem suspect.

"Just that teachers should maintain professional distance from families," I said instead.

"Who complained?"

"I can't say. But the message was clear—I need to be more careful about appearances."

"I don't want to cause problems for you at work," Wade said quietly. "Your career is too important."

His immediate understanding made the decision even harder. A selfish part of me wanted him to fight for our connection.

"I appreciate that. I just need to step back for a while."

"Does this mean... are we still okay? Can we still talk?"

"I think it's better if we keep things strictly professional for now."

The silence stretched between us, heavy with disappointment and unfinished possibilities.

"Cooper's going to be devastated," Wade said finally.

"I know. I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault. I just... fuck, Ezra. I really thought we had something good starting."

The admission hung between us, confirming what I'd hoped but been afraid to trust.

"We did. We do. But timing is everything, and right now the timing sucks."

"Yeah. It really does."

That evening, I sat in my quiet apartment with takeout Thai food, feeling the sharp contrast between this morning's domestic fantasy and tonight's professional reality. My phone showed two missed calls from Wade—probably wanting to discuss how to explain our cancelled plans to Cooper—but I wasn't sure I trusted myself to maintain appropriate distance if I heard his voice again.

The loneliness felt sharper after experiencing what belonging might feel like.

Uncle John called for our weekly check-in, immediately sensing my subdued mood.

"What's wrong, kiddo? You sound like someone stole your favorite lesson plan."

Without revealing specifics, I shared my struggle between professional safety and personal connection. John listened thoughtfully before offering gentle wisdom.

"Sounds like you're dealing with the same bullshit I faced thirty years ago. People who can't handle seeing gay men live normal lives, so they manufacture scandals to keep us isolated."

"It's not that simple, Uncle John. I have to work in this community. I can't afford to make enemies."

"And you can't afford to let bigots control your life either. Sometimes standing up for yourself means accepting that some people will never like you anyway."

"Easy for you to say. You're tenured at a university. Elementary school teachers in small towns don't have the same protections."

"You're right. I'm sorry. But kiddo, I also know what it's like to let fear make all your decisions. Twenty years later, you realize you've been so busy protecting yourself that you forgot to actually live."

After we hung up, text messages from Brook started arriving.

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