Page 23 of Between the Lines

Until now.

The house is all I have left of them. Allwehave left. And I can’t take that away from Callahan.

Especially when their accident wasmyfault.

He can’t know that, and he can’t lose his childhood home—despite the fact that he moved out last year to room in the city for his oncology residency. He shouldalwayshave our home to return to.

But the taxes on our childhood home are outstanding. After fifteen years of using their life insurance policy as my cover, those funds have run dry. Which is why I’m sitting here—as the assistant principal—hands in my head, the Red Sea parted between my monthly bank statements and the property tax bill that seems to be laughing at me.

I never wanted to be in charge—I’ve been “in charge” since thetragic death of our parents. I simply wanted to translate my love of learning into the hands of young minds. I never wanted to be the one calling parents for disciplinary issues, or commanding a staff of folks much older than I am who couldn’t care less what I have to say.

I never wanted this position in the first place. But the job came with more money—nearly double my salary as a teacher. And so, I face the hill of my demon in the form of a stack of envelopes.

The worst part is the guilt.

I am so immensely proud of all that Cal has achieved. Valedictorian at his high school graduation. Dean’s List and Summa Cum Laude for undergrad. He never once complained about the rigorousness that accompanied him through school, because Cal was born for success. And he has never once boasted about it. Thetruegolden child. Completely unblemished. And our parents never got to see it.

But guilt racks me every single time I so much as think about putting any part of myself first. I could have gone to university on the other side of the country to escape the demons that came with the sudden death of our parents and having to raise my younger brother.

Realistically, I could take the inheritance that was promised to me at eighteen, and has been racking up interest in the bank ever since, to do with it whatever I wish. Instead, I let guilt consume me. The small number that rests for me every month after my paycheck bleeds first to the house, and then to my own needs, and pokes at me.

Just do it, Nathan. Use it. They died because of you, anyway. Take what they gave you and make sure Cal gets to keep what’s left of them.

My eyes flit between the two piles, darting like a tennis ball in a heated match. As soon as I’m about to tip to one side, a knock on my office door interrupts that train of thought. I sigh, sweep all of the paperwork into my top desk drawer, and tell my saving grace to come in.

“Hey, Nate. Bad time?”

Aaron Russo pokes his head into my office, and Sam Ford’s head stacks on top, like some sort ofThreeStoogesbit.

“Come on in, gentlemen.” Once they’re seated, I ask, “What can I do for you?”

“We just wanted to check in, my guy!” Aaron says, a smile erupting his already cheerful expression.

“You…” I fold my hands on top of my desk and peer at them warily.

“How’s it going in the big leagues? Is everyone treating you okay? Listen, Drake used to wrestle. We can tag teamanyof these old geezers for you.”

Did I trip into the twilight zone?

“What Aaron is trying to say is…” Sam interjects, eyeing his friend with a look that says,Would you shut up and speak English please?“We know what it feels like to be the new guy. And as teachers, we all got a new building mentor to kind of carry us through the first year or two. Hell, I’m still close with my mentor, even though he retired.”

“And since Don is probablyyourmentor, I can guarantee he isn’t doingsquatto help.”

“We just figured, with us all being around the same age, with the same years of service, we’d check in on you. See how the transition from classroom to admin is treating you.”

My heart climbs into my throat unexpectedly.

“Oh. That was…” I clear my throat, scratching at it subtly. “Kind of you. Thank you. It’s been…”

All of my friendships were foregone conclusions the second I became Cal’s guardian. He was my one and only priority. I’ve almost forgotten what it’s like to have camaraderie. In a snap, these two men transform from my subordinates to humans, something I’ve tried to completely separate in my head.

My heart doesn’t know how to respond to this—compassion and empathy. I’m sure it was there in the aftermath of my parents’ death, but by that point, I’d built up walls so tall to protect myself from the pity, that I never allowed myself to see past the barbed wire at the top.

“Hell in a hand-basket?” Aaron supplies.

I don’t realize how long I’ve been inside my head until he does. I raise my brows slightly, my lips curling up just a bit.

“Kind of. The administrator position is new. Despite being Don’s shadow last year, it’s all just so…differentthan being in the classroom.”

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