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“You can’t make me do this Bryn, it’s cruel.”
“Derek, please. They’re your kids.”
“I am not wasting an evening on this, not with the cubs playing!”
“Derek, it’s only parents evening. These things last what, an hour? Two at the most? Come on, Derek wouldn’t you like to see Calvera’s posters on the wall? Echo’s cardboard box rainforest display? Derek, are you evening listening?...I’ll let you ride me tonight”
With the game safely recording, and both Echo and Calvera buckled into the backseat (on $200 car seats might I add.) Bryn flicked the ignition on as I buckled myself in, at his insistence, I should probably get a car licence at some point, because everybody but him seems to know that speed limits are more suggestions than actual limits. “It’s 7pm Bryn, the road is empty just put your foot down”. Bryn glances at me with the same look he gives Echo when he repeatedly flicks the lights on and off, I call it his ‘Dad scowl’ although I am frequently the target of it.
After approximately 400 years, and the same number of red lights and stop signs, which Bryn actually STOPPED at, we arrived mercifully at our destination. Parents evening, or as I like to call it ‘Let me talk to you about all the stuff your kids have already told you about throughout the year, before showing you some work and claiming it needs improving, even though your kids are fucking perfect’, or LMTTAATSYKHATYATTYBSYSWACINIETYKARP for short. Hell, for shorter. It’s not that I don’t care how they’re doing, it’s that I already know how their doing because I do their homework, and eat dinner with them. Sure, this might be productive for lacklustre parents who just dump their kid at any old school and barely remember their name, but I feel as though parents such as myself and Bryn require no feedback to attain the level our children are at.
As soon as we walk into the building I can feel eyes resting on us. I have to admit that being over 6 foot, with bright red hair and arms full of very obvious needle scars does not make me look like parent of the year, I am immediately glad that my significant other bullied me into changing out of the oil drenched shirt I came home in. Bryn really isn’t much better, he looks like he’s trying to be a punk rock maths professor and the purple hair really doesn’t draw attention away from us. I always feel an air of self-consciousness whenever the attention is on me, and while I know my mind is probably overplaying it I can’t stop the sinking in my stomach at the prospect of interacting with these cunts, who all think they’re smarter than me because they’re teachers. Those who can’t do, teach, dickhead. Still, when I see Calvera running off to play with Klaus, or I glance to my side and see Echos methodical button mashing, my father’s voice is almost a whisper. They’re good kids, and me and Bryn did that, faggots or not. Bryn has already obtained a list of teachers from them both when we first received the letter detailing the evening, they aren’t like most kids, you can’t just ask them to tell you where their teachers on are on the day. Bryn got it out of them throughout the week, he’s a lot more forward thinking than me, and more involved with the important stuff.
We make our way over to the first teacher of many, located in a dull looking room covered in shitty posters. As we enter, kids successfully distracted with the rest of their class in a separate room, I glance down at the chairs, which are definitely not big enough for anybody who has gone through puberty. Apart from the teachers chair of course, which is nice and normal sized with padding and all the swivelling you’d expect in a mass-produced desk chair. Bryn opts to sit on a table, since it’s a little higher up and I opt to stand behind him so I can glare at the teacher, making it very clear what I think of their ridiculously ill thought out seating arrangements. Bryn notices this quite quickly, and gives me his “dad scowl”, which I respond to with my “I am doing nothing wrong and this is their fault” look. Bryn responds with his “Please Derek you’re making yet another scene please behave for 3 seconds” eyebrow raise, and drags my arm down. I decide to sit before he gives me his “I’m not fucking you for a week” glare.
The teacher, who had a goatee and was going slightly bald, and looked like the kind of person you wouldn’t be surprised to see on the news, let out a cough shortly after this interaction, clearly trying to return our attentions unto him. “My names Mr.Dowell, as you probably already know based on the large sign on the door” He’d give a little chuckle then, smug ass smile on his face at his awful attempt at breaking the ice. What a dickhead. “And you are?” Bryn held his hand out to shake the pricks hand, who mirrored the gesture, while Bryn politely introduced himself with his full name, mostly so the guy knows which children are ours “Bryn Llewyn-Boyer”. They’d both glance at me then, clearly expecting me to talk. I’m about to make a sarky remark and pretend to be offended that he assumes I do not share a name with Bryn, because ‘is our marriage not REAL enough for you sir?!’ when I realise if I ever want to have sex again I should probably just answer normally. “Derek” I provide minimally, making no movement towards Mr. Goatees extended hand, until Bryn provides another ‘dad scowl’ and I relent. Bryn gives the teacher an apologetic look as he raises his eyebrow, clearly trying to figure out what my issue is. It’s your shiny head, and comfy chair you cunt. “Calvera and…Echo yes?” He states, clearly, they haven’t got over the fact that his name is, in fact, Echo. We had to provide adoption certificates before they relented and allowed the poor kid to use his fucking name. Bryn nods and asks how they’re doing. I zone out of the conversation and start to see how low down his back I can get my hand before he starts shuffling. Harry hairless is talking and showing us some work, which I honestly don’t care about because I’ve already fucking seen all the drawings he makes them do as homework, and they are absolutely magnificent whatever this self-entitled undatables reject thinks. Bryn reaches his hand out and places it on my leg, giving it a tight squeeze. A warning to behave. I return my attention to the room, and return my hand to an appropriate level on his back, I got surprisingly far down all things considered. Perhaps I’ll go for crotch in the next room. Bryn is thanking the teacher for the feedback, and I realise I’ve managed to ignore then entirety of the bald eagles charade. I stand up with Bryn, who is shaking his hand while I’m halfway out the door. No thanks, jimmy Saville, that’s enough skin on skin contact.
I slow my pace, and fall back into line with Bryn since he’s the one who knows where we’re going. “Did you listen to any of that?” he asks, kind of pleadingly actually, as if he wants me to lie. Not that I would lie to him, even if I was inclined to he see right through it anyway. “No, nothing he’s got to say is worth listening to.” I’d state, though it came out more bitter sounding than I intended it to. Bryn looks at me with something similar to the dad scowl, but its reserved only for me and is a look that I am ashamed to say I have seen enough of for it to require a name. I call it the “For fuck sake Derek, I need a husband” Frown. I don’t like that look. I sigh, and promise that I’ll be nicer to the next one. Only for Bryn.
On our way to the next room, Bryn informs me that this is their teacher for both English and religious studies. I ask why the fuck they need to do religious studies, and a parent sat outside a classroom scowls at me. Honestly, I don’t give a fuck what you think about my language, there is no reason that a twelve-year-old needs to do religious studies especially not one like Calvera. It was hard enough convincing her that I could eat meat as it is, I don’t need someone telling her pork is evil. There is a small queue outside of ‘Ms. Florent’s’ classroom, so I lean against the wall, glancing at the display in front of me. It’s got a crudely constructed title on it, but I can’t tell if a child did or, or an adult trying to be cutesy. It says “My Parents” and has a bunch of stick figures on, coloured in by children to resemble their household. I spot Calvera’s almost immediately, and chuckle lightly. Bryn notices, and I point loosely to the wall and allow him to spot it for himself. Calvera’s is unlike anyone else’s, she has clearly torn up some paper and used it to attempt to extend the legs of her stick figures to make them taller. If this was not entertaining on its own, and it most definitely was, the teacher had clearly given all of the students one female, and one male figure as It was obvious one of them was previously wearing a dress, and she had tried her hardest to remove it. And so, amongst all the dull nuclear families, the see of brown and blonde hair, sat two overly tall figures with bright hair, holding hands. The contrast of it was extremely amusing, and when I turned my head to Bryn I could see the look of pride etched onto his face. I placed my hand in his and gave him a small, but content smile, this almost made coming worth it. Well, that and the prospect of sex.
I hear one of the parents scoff when I take Bryns hand, and I’m about to speak when he gives it a tight squeeze. I look at him, ready to complain to him for chastising me for being bothered by the homophobic cunt when I realise it was, in fact, a squeeze of reassurance and a plea to keep quiet. I force myself to untense, exhaling and regretting leaving my cigarettes in the car as I returned the pressure. I would always be an addict, but I could control what I was addicted to, and while most people think smoking is a disgusting habit, I think they’d agree it’s a pretty big step up from my previous addictions. The couple occupying the teachers room exit with her behind. She has a loose pony tail and a floral dress on. At least she doesn’t look like the last guy. She invites us in, and I raise myself from the wall, following Bryn in and thanking the heavens that this one thought to grab a few full-sized chairs. I lift the seat and place it closer to Bryns already sitting form since they were a good metre away from each other for exactly no reason. Ms. Florent sits down and begins her spiel, “Good evening gentlemen, I hope you weren’t waiting out there too long” She gives us a friendly smile then, but I can see a little bit of fear etched into it, understandable when two men who are twice your size walk into your classroom and shut the door after waiting outside for some unknown period of time. “no, not long” Bryn provides her, in his usual ‘I don’t know you but I’m being polite because I’m an amazing person’ tone. “Great! Well, my names Kathryn, and while I can take a good guess and say you’re Calvera’s parents, I never got your names.” She states, vomit inducingly peppy. Bryn gives her a polite laugh, and introduces himself using just his first name. I provide the same one word response I gave to the nob jockey from before. This time I force myself to listen to her tangent about Calvera’s progress, which is mostly positive. ‘Bright, responsive and a sponge for information’ to quote a few of her attributes. Apparently though she’s an old sponge, and struggles to retain the, and I quote ‘water of knowledge’. Oh Kathryn, you were doing so well. I exit the room as soon as she’s done talking, Bryn following behind me and catching up with ease. We only have one more teacher left, according to Bryn. I’m about to make a comment about Calvera being right after all, and that there was in fact a God, when Bryn informs me that I will be sitting through a fucking group presentation by the teachers who teach all the kids, and the principle. I tell Bryn where he can shove this presentation. Bryn tells me if I want anything shoved up anything that I will behave myself. “Yes master” is my response, naturally he shuts up immediately.
The next, and final class, is maths. Echo is great in this class; cold hard logic is his expertise and once he’s retained something he doesn’t forget it. Bryn tells me they’re both taught by a ‘Mrs. Luver’ I find great amusement in this. “Is her husband Mr Luver Luver?” I snort, giving a sniff as I drop my hands into my pockets and lean against the wall. Bryn looks at me and gives me a smirk, although I can tell part of him wants to tell me to behave. There is no queue for this class, but the door isn’t open like with previous classrooms so Bryn steps forward and gives it a couple of knocks. After a few beats a woman who looks like she needs a good dicking and a new wardrobe comes out, and glancing at us through her secretary glasses. I can already tell I don’t like this bitch, I can almost see the disgust on her face as she looks Bryn up and down, taking in his magnificent figure with none of the awe it deserves. “And you are?” She asks, with the snottiest English accent I have ever heard, it’s nothing like Bryns smooth, melodic Berkshire goodness. Its judgemental, like a Victorian nanny. “Mr Llewyn-Boyer” Bryn states, totally deadpan, first name completely skipped. Clearly, he doesn’t like this bitch either. She lets out an unconvinced hum, and begrudgingly invites him inside. Naturally I rise myself from the wall and join them. She glances at me them “One parent at a time” she sighs, as if it’s completely obvious. “seems a bit pointless to repeat the information to me.” I retorted, glancing down at her 5 foot something frame. She looks between us then, and glances at the sheet in her hands. “What is the name of your child?” She half snaps at me, and I give her a steely look, stating Echo and Calvera’s names flatly, or at least as flat as I can manage, I can hear the adoration in my tone. She glances at Bryn then, and eventually turns and walks in “come in then” she states, her tone still biting.
The room is laid out like an exam hall, each table a square with one singular chair on it. At the front of the room is her desk, which is completely bare aside from some neatly laid out sheets. She too, has thought ahead and gathered two adult sized chairs. She gets points for that at least. I sit down beside Bryn, this one has clearly stolen a few chairs from another teacher, because these ones are adjustable. I make a point of lifting the chair up a little so I can sit without my knees at my fucking neck for the first time all night. I can see Bryn has done the same, clearly feeling my anguish. The woman glances between the two of us for a moment, a small scowl on her face. “Which one of you is the father of Calvera?” She asks, her tone still biting, I think it’s just her regular voice. “Biologically, neither of us. We adopted her, and Echo.” Bryn stated, I love it when Bryns pissed off. He gets overly literal; I don’t even try to hide the smirk on my face. Of course, Bryn and I regularly faced this kind of question and it pissed us both off equally, why did it matter who shoved a dick in some random woman? That’s not what makes someone a father. What makes someone a father is having a bad back all day because they made you sleep in their bed because they were sick, it’s getting up two hours earlier than you used to so they can have a good breakfast and a homemade lunch, its helping them with their homework and cutting up an astrology magazine you haven’t even read yet so they have something to use for their space project. Being a dad is not about biology. It’s about caring. “We?” she asks, I can hear the disgust in her tone. I know what she’s thinking. “Yeah, you want to know which one of us takes it up the ass too? Or is our shared last name enough for you?” I growled, I have honestly had e-fucking-nough of this, I just want to go home, read The Very Hungry Caterpillar for the 400th time and get fucked into next week. Is that so much to ask? “Derek” Bryn barks my name in a harsher than necessary tone, I know he doesn’t want to have an issue with her because she’s their teacher but for fuck sakes Bryn. I can feel Bryn place a hand on my leg, and I force myself to take yet another breath. So many homophobes, sometimes I think they’re right. “Well, that explains the issues that your poor...daughter, is having in class doesn’t it?” She quips. Bryn tightens his grip on my leg, before speaking in his magnificently sassy ‘pissed off dad’ tone “Oh, do enlighten me, ma’am, of what these ‘issues’ entail” I held back a smirk at Bryns off the scale sass. “Well” She started, giving a little cough as she cleared her throat, making it abundantly clear that she wasn’t expecting that level of attitude. “She struggles to retain any information, and regularly disrupts the class with discussions about what ‘the pantheon’ require her to do. I do NOT appreciate the disruption and can only imagine what strange homosexual agenda you have place upon your…daughter. Perhaps she would benefit from a female influence. I can only imagine the poor childs discomfort at being around so much…’male’ energy” Her tirade finally finished, her eyes scanning us both up and down upon the word male, Bryn began his own rant in response. “I don’t think masculinity is a toxic, or harmful thing for our daughter to be exposed to, and I do not appreciate being told my daughter needs a feminine influence, are you not female? Because, based on your bigoted logic, she would be doing immeasurably better in your class than she does at home. She does not struggle with her homework, but she clearly struggles here. If you are to be believed of course, and as for the Pantheon- that is her religious belief and it is not your place to dictate how she expresses it.”. Bryn finished his bombardment of information and gave the teacher half a glare- the kind that you can deny giving if necessary. I hold my breath and feel myself lurch slightly as I try my very hardest not to laugh. Bryn stood up then, and I watched him, slightly confused as to what he was about to do, and secretly praying he was going to clock her in the jaw because honestly id pay good money to see that, and glared down at the teacher. “I think that’s all we need to discuss. Good evening” He was short and to the point. “Come on, love” he drolled, elongated the final word, clearly trying to piss her off just that little bit more. I stood up then, and followed Bryn out, waving goodbye to the bitch with a ring clad finger.
We decided we didn’t need to go to the lecture. We also decided that parents evening wasn’t that important after all.