Page 38 of After the Rain

He called immediately.

"That bad, huh?"

I told him about Mrs. Garrett, about the growing campaign against me, about the impossible choice between my career and my heart.

"Sounds like you're caught between people who want you to be smaller and someone who might want you to be bigger," he said after I finished.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, these parents want you to shrink down, hide who you are, make yourself less threatening to their worldview. But this Wade fellow—he kissed you, right? That suggests he wants more of who you are, not less."

"He's having an identity crisis. He doesn't know what he wants."

"Maybe. Or maybe he's figuring out what he's been wanting all along and just didn't have the vocabulary for it."

"Even if that's true, I can't afford to wait around and find out. My job?—"

"Will be there whether you fight for it or not," Uncle John interrupted gently. "But the man you care about? He might not be."

After we hung up, I sat in the quiet gym thinking about courage and cowardice, about the different ways people could disappear from their own lives.

I was so lost in thought that I almost missed Sarah Harrison entering the gym with Cooper. They were both in workout clothes, Cooper carrying a basketball that looked comically large in his small hands.

Cooper spotted me first, his face lighting up with uncomplicated joy.

"Mr. Mitchell! Are you here to play basketball too?"

Before I could answer, he was bounding up the bleachers with Sarah following more slowly. She looked tired but friendly, offering the kind of polite smile that divorced parents perfected for navigating shared social spaces.

"Hi, Mr. Mitchell," she said. "Mind if we sit? Cooper's been excited about basketball, but I think he needs a break from trying to make shots on a regulation hoop."

"Of course."

Cooper settled between us, chattering about his basketball ambitions and the "special techniques" he'd been practicing. Sarah listened with the patient attention of a mother who'd heard this particular monologue several times before.

"Thank you for encouraging his interests," she said to me during a pause in Cooper's enthusiastic explanation. "Wade mentioned that you've been helping him with some school projects too. It's nice to know he has teachers who care about his whole development, not just academics."

"Cooper's a remarkable kid. It's been a pleasure having him in my class."

"Wade speaks very highly of you too," she said, then paused, seeming to choose her words carefully. "I hope... well, I hope you know how much your support means to our family. With everything that's been changing this year, it's good for Cooper to have consistent, caring adults in his life."

Her tone was warm but carried an undercurrent I couldn't quite read. She seemed content to watch Cooper attempt increasingly ambitious basketball moves while chatting pleasantly about school activities and upcoming events.

When Cooper's attention was fully captured by the teenagers playing pickup basketball, Sarah turned to me with a more serious expression.

"I've heard some... rumors lately," she said quietly, glancing around to make sure Cooper was out of earshot. "About someparents having concerns about your teaching. I wanted you to know that from my perspective, you've been nothing but professional and caring with Cooper. He adores you, and that means everything to me as his mother."

The unexpected support caught me off guard. "Thank you. That... means a lot."

"I don't know what's behind the rumors, and frankly, I don't care. What I care about is Cooper having teachers who genuinely invest in his success." She smiled, but there was steel underneath the warmth. "Some people in this town have too much time on their hands and not enough real problems to worry about."

After they left for Cooper's basketball practice, I sat alone in the quiet gym, processing the unexpected encounter. Sarah's support had been genuine but purely focused on Cooper's wellbeing and my professional reputation. She was clearly a mother who'd heard whispers and wanted to make sure her son's teacher knew he had at least one parent firmly in his corner.

The gesture was kind, but it also highlighted how precarious my situation had become. If rumors were already circulating widely enough for Sarah to hear them, Mrs. Garrett's campaign was more advanced than I'd realized.

ELEVEN

PRESSURE POINTS

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