Page 9 of After the Rain

Brook nodded, but I could see she wasn't entirely convinced. "Just... be careful, okay? I know you love working with families in transition, but remember that not everyone interprets professional care the way you intend it."

The reminder stung, even though I knew Brook meant well. "I'm always careful. Maybe too careful."

"I know you are. I just worry that your experiences in Portland made you so focused on protecting yourself that you might miss warning signs with parents who could become problematic."

"Wade's not problematic. He's actually one of the most reasonable parents I've worked with. He listens to educational recommendations, follows through on suggestions, and keeps Cooper's needs at the center of every decision."

"Good. I'm glad to hear it." Brook squeezed my hand across the table. "You deserve to work with families who appreciate what you bring to their children's lives."

We finished dinner talking about other conference highlights—students who were making breakthrough progress, parentswho'd finally understood their children's learning needs, the satisfaction of seeing young minds develop and grow.

By the time I drove home, I was feeling professionally fulfilled in a way that had been missing from my work lately. Too many of my interactions with parents felt guarded, limited by my need to maintain protective boundaries. Tonight's conversation with Wade had reminded me why I'd become a teacher—the joy of connecting with families who saw education as collaborative, who trusted my expertise while bringing their own insights about their children.

My apartment wassmall but comfortable, the second floor of a converted Victorian about ten minutes from school. I'd decorated it carefully, creating a space that felt warm and welcoming without being too obviously the home of a single man. Neutral colors, comfortable furniture, books everywhere, and just enough personal touches to make it feel like home.

I settled at my kitchen table with a stack of papers to grade, but my mind kept drifting to Wade's earnest questions about supporting Cooper's development at home. It was clear that Cooper's academic giftedness was new information for him, but instead of being overwhelmed, Wade had wanted to understand how to nurture his son's abilities appropriately.

Cooper's latest journal entry was in the stack: "My dad seems happier now. Maybe because we have more fun together."

I stared at that sentence for a long time, thinking about the family dynamics Cooper was navigating. Divorce was always difficult for children, but Cooper seemed to be adjusting well to his new reality. His writing suggested that he saw positivechanges in his father's demeanor, which was encouraging for his long-term emotional development.

My phone buzzed with a text from Uncle John:

Uncle John

How were conferences? Any interesting parent meetings?

I considered my response carefully. John was the progressive Methodist pastor in town, the one family member who'd been completely accepting when I'd come out at nineteen. He'd been my anchor during the difficult years, the person who'd helped me reconcile my faith with my sexuality.

Ezra

All went well. Good engagement from parents this year.

Uncle John

Glad to hear it. Let's grab coffee this weekend—I want to hear about your students.

I set my phone aside and tried to focus on grading, but my thoughts kept returning to the evening's conversations. There was something satisfying about working with parents who saw their children as whole people rather than just academic achievers. Wade's questions about Cooper's emotional needs during the family transition showed depth and insight that many parents missed.

At thirty-four, I'd built a life around careful boundaries and professional safety. I was respected in my career, financially stable, surrounded by colleagues who accepted me for who I was. The work itself was rewarding—watching children discover their capabilities, helping families navigate educational challenges, making a difference in young lives.

But sometimes the loneliness of always maintaining professional distance felt overwhelming. Tonight's conversation with Wade had reminded me of what I'd been missing—the joy of connecting with families who saw me as a partner in their children's development rather than just a service provider.

I finished grading around eleven and got ready for bed, feeling cautiously optimistic about working with the Harrison family. Cooper was a delight to teach, and Wade seemed committed to supporting his son's development in thoughtful ways. If I maintained appropriate boundaries while remaining professionally warm, this could be exactly the kind of positive parent partnership that made teaching rewarding.

THREE

COFFEE AND CURIOSITY

WADE

Istared at Ezra's email for the fifth time in ten minutes, analyzing every word like it was a complex structural blueprint.

Hi Wade,

Thanks for following up about Cooper's field trip. Everything looks good with his permission slip. If you have any other questions about his adjustment or ways to support his learning at home, I'd be happy to discuss over coffee sometime this week if that's convenient.

Best, Ezra Mitchell

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