Page 7 of On My Side
My eyes widen, and I lean further in. This is one of my favorite things about Jocelynn, she knowsallof the good town gossip.The things she’s told me further solidify my rule to not date a student’s parent. “No, who?”
“Me!” she shrieks.
“Oh! Wow! And that’s good?” I say awkwardly, reeling from the noise.
“I can’t get pregnant unless I spend thousands of dollars, so yeah, it’s a good thing.” She playfully pokes at my bicep.
Warren, Jocelyn’s husband, was in Kat’s class at Port Haven High School. He came out as transgender their junior year of high school, which caused quite the scandal. He went on to go to medical school and suddenly everyone loves him and genders him correctly. I wish every trans person in town got the respect Warren does. I’ve had to fight with parents and the principal about referring to my students by their correct pronouns and names.
“Right,” I say sheepishly, rubbing at where she poked me. “Congratulations! That’s amazing!”
She beams up at me. “Thank you, Warren and I are thrilled. He’s so excited to be a dad.”
There’s a strange sinking feeling in my chest. When Taylor and I had been…well, whatever the hell we were, I’d pictured a life with her. A life where we got married and had kids, and I thought that life was within reach. I know there’s plenty of time for me to be a dad and start a family, but it feels like I’m still grieving the life that never existed anywhere but my mind. As a result, it’s always weird when someone mentions fatherhood.
“He’s going to be a great dad,” I tell her earnestly. “When are you due?”
She absentmindedly rubs circles on her belly. She’s not showing yet, but she already looks maternal. It’s adorable. “I’m twelve weeks along, so baby Santiago-Conley will make their grand entrance around December 22nd. Could be a Christmas baby, isn’t that wild?”
“Wild,” I agree. “I’m so happy for you and Warren, Joss. This is such great news.”
She smiles at her belly. “Thanks, we’re thrilled. I’ve already talked to my principal and with the timing, they’ve offered to have the assistant band director step up so I can take the entire semester off. I’m not gonna lie, it’s tempting.”
“You should do it,” I encourage.
“Honestly, we’d be fine financially if I don’t work a semester.”
I don’t tell her, but I’m also at a point in my career with 4Play where, if I wanted to, I could stop teaching and still live comfortably.
I don’t want to, however, and I can’t see her stopping completely, but I think a break would be good for her, which is what I tell her.
“Yeah… but enough about me. When do you start private lessons?”
Barry, the bartender, brings me my Guinness and takes Jocelynn’s order. I take a sip before answering. “I’m not doing lessons this summer.”
I feel Jocelynn’s eyes boring holes into the side of my head. “Yes, you are.”
I lower the bottle and raise a brow. “Um, no I’m not?”
“Yes, you are because I told a student you’d be taking her on this summer when I leave!” she throws her hands up in apparent exasperation.
I freeze mid-sip. “Why would you tell a student that?”
“Because I assumed you’d say yes!” She throws her hands in the air again. At this point, she should keep her hands up there. “You always say yes!”
I do. It’s a fatal flaw that has led to burnout and more than one depressive episode.
“Wait, what do you mean, when you leave?” I ask in confusion.
“I’m auditioning for philharmonics full-time this summer! And I only felt comfortable leaving her knowing you’d take her on…”
“But youdidn’tknow I’d take her on. YouassumedI’d take her on. That’s not the same thing.”
“Tomato, tomahto. Please, Ren. Just this one student. She’s really special, and I think you two would work together even better than she and I do. She’s a rising sophomore and unbelievably talented and dedicated to the craft.” She bats her eyelashes and pouts as she clasps her hands beneath her chin. “Pleeeeeeease? For me?”
I want to say no. I don’t want to teach lessons, but I always have a hard time saying no to my people. My therapist calls it people-pleasing; I call it peace-keeping. People-keeping, even. If I say yes, if I put my head down and do what’s asked of me, I won’t disappoint anyone.
“She’s autistic,” Jocelyn hurriedly continues. “And music is herthing, you know? She calls it her special interest. She needs someone who validates and encourages her but also pushes her to her full potential. I think that’s you.”
