Chapter Text
The first order of business when Courfeyrac moved into the pool house behind his parents’ home was to set up the wifi and the TV so he could access Netflix. He supposed it was petty and he was sure his mom would say something about it if she ever found out, but he had a five-year-old to entertain and the only way he was going to get any unpacking done was by keeping Lucas sufficiently distracted. Which meant Netflix.
Of course, his parents were a scant fifteen yards away and his mom was eager to babysit, but Courfeyrac was less eager to leave his son in her care. Which wasn’t to say that she was a bad person (or even a bad parent), because she wasn’t, but Courfeyrac didn’t necessarily want his son to be influenced by his parents’ more…upper-class attitudes. (When he got a couple of drinks in him and was less careful with his words, he had no problem calling his parents out on their blatant snobbery and elitism, but when he was sober he tried to be more polite.) He had turned out okay under their influence, but not all of his siblings had, and it wasn’t a risk he wanted to take with his own child. After all, there was a reason he moved across the state as soon as he could so he would have an excuse to not visit every weekend.
If he hadn’t lost his job and if he weren’t nearly drowning in debt to cover Lucas’s medical bills, he wouldn’t have moved here at all.
So Lucas was left to the gentle care of Netflix—the savior of so many single parents, Courfeyrac was certain—and he set to work on unpacking Lucas’s room first so they would have half a chance to settle back into the usual bedtime routine tonight. The pediatric neurologist back in Rochester warned Courfeyrac that the stress of this move might trigger Lucas’s seizures, even with his medication. Stress and sleep deprivation almost always increased the likelihood of seizures. Courfeyrac had read all the statistics. Lucas was responding well to his latest medication—no matter how much he protested taking it—but Courfeyrac still had to battle back panic at the possibility that the medication would stop working like the last round did.
Of course, even if Courfeyrac didn’t have to worry about Lucas’s health, he probably would have unpacked Lucas’s room first anyway. Children tended to take priority like that.
After tending to Lucas’s room, he was going to try to get to the kitchen. His mom had invited him to share meals with her and his dad as often as he wanted, but he had enough unpleasant memories of family dinners from his own childhood that he didn’t want to subject himself or his son to any more of that than he needed to. Maybe before midnight he’d get around to unpacking his bedding, but he was pretty well resigned to the fact that he’d be sleeping on the couch for the next couple of nights.
He had just finished setting up Lucas’s bed and was trying to find a good home for his favorite books and toys—a shelf, he needed a good shelf for this stuff, maybe one with cubbies—when he heard his cell phone ringing. He thought about ignoring the call—he was a master of screening calls—but what if it was one of Lucas’s doctors…He groaned and started searching for his phone.
Lucas found it first.
“Hello,” Courfeyrac heard his son say in a polite, practiced voice. “This is my daddy’s phone. May I ask who’s calling?”
Courfeyrac had had several conversations with Lucas about not answering his phone, but he was glad to see his son was at least being polite about it. He walked into the living room and saw Lucas nodding at whatever the person on the phone was saying, and Courfeyrac couldn’t help but smile. Lucas looked so proud of himself.
“Who is it, buddy?” he asked.
Lucas held the phone out. “He said his name was John.” Courfeyrac didn’t know anyone named John, as common of a name as it was, but his oldest friend did go by Jehan. Lucas could say—and even spell—Courfeyrac, but it seemed he needed to work a little on Jehan.
Courfeyrac took the phone from Lucas and tousled his hair. “Thanks, buddy,” he said, “but remember we’re not supposed to answer Daddy’s phone unless I say it’s okay, all right?”
Lucas nodded before turning back to the TV.
“Hey, Jehan,” Courfeyrac said. He and Jehan had been friends since they were in grade school, attending the same pretentious private school and having the same little tolerance for its elitist bullshit. While Courfeyrac had moved out of New Castle as soon as he was able, Jehan still lived and worked in here, which was one of the more pleasant aspects about moving back here.
“Was that Lucas?” Jehan asked from the other line. “He sounds so big! How old is he now?”
“He turned five a few months back,” Courfeyrac said. “And I swear he’s getting bigger every day.”
A fact that was particularly bothersome at the moment, because he really didn’t have the money to keep buying his son more clothes on top of the medical bills. His parents were letting him stay here for free, and he was grateful, but he wanted to keep as much of his financial independence as he could.
“Is he doing okay?” Jehan asked. “I know the last time we talked, you still didn’t have the seizures under control…”
“The latest drugs seem to be doing the trick,” he said. “At least, I hope they are. He seemed to be doing well with the last round until they just stopped working one day and, well, it wasn’t fun.” No need to burden his friend with the terror of watching his child to succumb to another myoclonic-astatic seizure when he thought his little boy was finally going to be okay.
“I hope this medication round works out then,” Jehan said. “I can only imagine how hard this must be for you and Lucas.” He paused, then asked, “Are you back in New Castle yet?”
“Got in this morning.”
“Are you all moved in? You’re staying in your parents’ pool house, right? Or did they convince you to move into the main house?”
“We’re in the pool house,” he said. “And if by all moved in, you mean all my crap is here, then yes, I’m all moved in. Unfortunately, it’s all still in boxes and I hardly have any idea of where anything is.”
“I suppose you’re pretty busy, then.”
“Stop beating around the bush, Jehan,” he said.
“Any chance you’d be available for a job interview in, say, a half hour?”
Courfeyrac nearly dropped his phone. “Are you serious?”
“Deadly,” Jehan said. “There’s been a bit of a scandal with one of the history teachers at my school and they’re looking for an emergency replacement. I’ve already put in a good word for you with the principal.”
“You’re kidding me.”
“I kid you not, my friend. The school is just ten minutes away from your parents’ house, but I can talk to Valjean and reschedule you for later in the day if you need more time. He just wants to get this job filled before anyone can make a big fuss about it. Do you think you can manage?”
No, he didn’t think he could find suitable interview clothes and a babysitter for Lucas in twenty minutes, but he wasn’t going to pass at an opportunity to get a job. He needed something full time with medical benefits, and a little bit of rush now would certainly be worth it in the long run. “Yeah, yeah, I can manage,” he said. “I just—you know I don’t have any experience teaching at a high school level, right?”
His last job had been teaching US history to seventh graders.
“But you’re qualified to teach seven through twelve, right? You’ve got a secondary education degree.”
“Yeah.”
“That’s all they’re looking for,” Jehan said. “I’m at the school now—huzzah for summer prep meetings—and I can watch Lucas here if you can’t find a babysitter. Does that sound all right?”
“Jehan, I might kiss you when I see you.”
Jehan laughed. “I’ll text you the address and I’ll see you in a half hour.”
“Lucas, buddy,” Courfeyrac called, hanging up the phone and rushing into his room to find his suitcase, hoping to find something appropriate to wear to the interview. He paused. He had no idea where his shoes were. “Do you want to go on a little trip with Daddy?”
“No.”
Courfeyrac yanked his suitcase out from behind a stack of boxes. “Why not?”
“I don’t want to go back to the doctor. It smells funny there.”
“We’re not going to the doctor’s office,” he said. He’d have to remember not to refer to future trips to the doctor’s or to the hospital as a little trip with Daddy. “Daddy has to go talk to a nice man about getting a new job and my friend Jehan said that he could watch you while I talked to the man.”
Lucas walked into the room. “You should wear your polka-dot bow tie,” he said, looking at the combination of dress shirts and ties Courfeyrac had pulled out of the suitcase. “Can I show your friend my new dinosaur friend?”
“Of course you can, buddy,” he said. Knowing Jehan, he’d probably love to hear about Lucas’s new dinosaur friend—an orange and blue plush brachiosaurus dinosaur stuffed animal that he’d gotten for Lucas to keep him occupied on the car ride to New Castle.
“Okay,” Lucas said. “I’ll go.”
Courfeyrac was grateful beyond words that Lucas was feeling cooperative today. It’d be much easier to introduce Jehan to a happy, smiling Lucas than it would be to a screaming, crying Lucas. Courfeyrac spotted the rubber-maid bin he’d packed all their shoes in sitting on the dresser in his room and he grabbed it and put in on the floor in front of Lucas. “Do you think you can find Daddy’s brown shoes in there?” he asked. “It’d be a big help.”
With Lucas busy digging through the shoe bin, Courfeyrac rushed into the bathroom and quickly shaved, trying not to cut himself up too badly. He was hurrying back to his bedroom when he spotted someone lurking in the kitchen. He nearly had a heart attack before he recognized his mother.
“What the hell, Mom?” he demanded in a hushed voice. Lucas had a penchant for saying words he wasn’t meant to say and was always quick to point out when Daddy needed to put another quarter in their Swear Jar—which was currently lost in a box somewhere in the kitchen. Hopefully. “What are you doing here?”
“I let myself in,” she said. “Hugo, dear, this place is a mess. Are you sure you don’t want help unpacking?”
“You let yourself in? I thought I locked the door.”
“Yes, well, I have a key,” she said. “I wanted to see if you and Lucas wanted to come up to the house for lunch.”
“Sounds nice, Mom, but I’m actually in a rush to get somewhere.”
He checked his watch. He still had five minutes to get dressed before he’d have to wrestle Lucas into the car and get to the school.
“Going somewhere?”
“I’ve got a job interview,” he said.
“What? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I only just found out about it,” he said. “Now if you don’t mind, I really need to get changed.”
“Daddy, I found your shoes!” Lucas shouted from the bedroom.
“That’s great, buddy!” Courfeyrac hollered back.
“You shouldn’t let him shout like that,” his mom said.
“Right,” Courfeyrac said, walking back to his room. “I’m going to go change now, so…”
He should have known she would follow him. If he said anything about it, she’d probably retort with a I changed your diapers, you’ve got nothing I have seen before statement, so he let the issue go. “What’s this job interview business about?”
“They’re looking for a history teacher at the school Jehan works at. You remember my friend Jehan, don’t you?”
“You mean that hippie with the long hair?”
“I don’t think his hair is that long anymore,” Courfeyrac said, shucking off his jeans so he could pull on a pair of slacks.
“He’s the boy who turned you gay, isn’t he?”
Courfeyrac glared at her. “First of all, I’m bisexual, not gay. We’ve been over this. Or did you forget my love affair with a woman that resulted in your grandson? Second, even if I were gay, it wouldn’t be because someone ‘turned’ me gay. Third, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t talk that way in front of my son.” He smiled at Lucas. “Why don’t you go find your shoes so you’re ready to leave when I am?”
Lucas looked at him hesitantly. He’d always been a sensitive kid. He didn’t like it when there was obvious emotional contention in the room.
“It’s all right, buddy,” he said. “But we’ve got to leave soon, okay?”
“You’re taking him with you to the job interview?” his mom asked once Lucas was out of the room.
“Jehan is at the school already,” he said. He shrugged into his nicest button up shirt. It’d look good with the bow tie Lucas wanted him to wear. “And he said that he’d be happy to watch Lucas for me.”
“Are you sure you’re comfortable leaving Lucas with someone like that?” she asked. “What if he…what if Lucas has one of his…his fits?” she added in a hushed voice.
“You can call them seizures, Mom,” Courfeyrac said irritably. “Lucas has been seizure free for nearly two weeks now, so I have no reason to think that he’ll suddenly have one now and I’m not going to let his epilepsy force us to live in fear. Besides, most schools require teachers to take emergency first aid classes. He probably has training on how to handle seizures, and if he doesn’t, I will literally be down the hall.”
“You can leave Lucas with me, you know,” she said defensively. “I read all those PDF things you sent me. I know what I’m supposed to do.”
“I appreciate that, Mom,” he said, “but we’re in a hurry and I already told Lucas he could come with me. He’ll get upset if we change plans now.” He could tell her feelings were hurt and he sighed. “I promise we’ll have dinner with you and Dad tonight, all right? I just want to talk over some ground rules before I leave him with you guys.”
She sniffed. It was a snobbish sound. “All right,” she said. “Dinner is served at 5:30, and we still dress for it.”
Great. He was going to have to wrestle Lucas into nice clothes. “Sounds great,” he said. He finished tying his bow tie and he turned to his mom for inspection. “How do I look?” he asked.
She tugged at his bow tie a little. “You look charming,” she said. “Even if your hair is a little wild.” She kissed him on the cheek. “I’m sure you’ll do brilliantly. I expect to hear all about your new job over dinner.”
He offered her a smile before he rounded up Lucas and headed out for the interview.
Copland High School was a newer school in the area, only just seven years old. Jehan had done his student teaching there and had fallen in love with the school. Whenever Courfeyrac called him up to whine about his awful post at his old junior high—he loved his students, but he often wanted to strangle the administration—Jehan couldn’t help but brag about how wonderful his school was. It was hard not to resent him a little, but Courfeyrac pushed all that resentment aside when Jehan met him with a wide smile in the lobby of the school. He wished they had time for a proper reunion. It’d been years since they last saw each other, even though they kept in touch online and on the phone.
“You made it,” Jehan said.
“Barely,” he said. “My mom cornered me on the way out. I’m not late, am I?”
“You’re fine,” he said. “Valjean is in his office. I can show you back if you want.”
Courfeyrac tugged Lucas forward to introduce him to Jehan. “This is my friend, Jehan,” he told Lucas. “He’s going to stay with you while I go talk to that nice man about getting a job, okay?”
Jehan squatted down so he and Lucas could talk eye-to-eye. “Hi, Lucas,” he said. “Your daddy’s told me a lot about you. I’m really excited to get to hang out with you for a little bit.”
Lucas frowned a little, and for a second Courfeyrac worried that his son was about to melt down and refuse to go off with a complete stranger, but then Lucas sniffed and held out his stuffed dinosaur. “This is my dinosaur friend,” he said. “My daddy got him for me to be my new friend here.”
“Does your dinosaur friend have a name?” Jehan asked.
“Not yet,” Lucas said. “He’s very shy and he hasn’t told me his name yet.”
Jehan nodded solemnly. “Maybe together we can get him to share his name with us,” he said.
“Maybe if he had some chocolate he wouldn’t be shy anymore,” Lucas said. “Do you have any chocolate?”
Courfeyrac’s lips twitched. Clever kid. He was always after sweets.
“I’m sure I can find some,” Jehan said. “If your dad says it’s okay, I’d be happy to share the chocolate with you too, Lucas.”
“Can I, Dad?” Lucas asked.
“I’m sure that’ll be okay,” Courfeyrac said. He trusted Jehan not to overdose his son on sweets. “I need to go meet with the nice man now, okay? Will you be all right with Jehan?”
“Me and my dinosaur friend are going to have lots of fun and eat lots of chocolate,” Lucas said. “We like Jehan.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” He bent down and kissed the top of Lucas’s head for luck. “I assume Valjean’s office is back there?” he asked, pointing to the main office.
“One of the secretaries will tell you where to go,” Jehan said. “I’ll take Lucas down to my classroom. Room 612.”
“Sounds good.”
“Good luck,” Jehan said. “You’re going to do great.
Courfeyrac introduced himself to a secretary—an older woman named Sheila—in the front office and she walked him back to Valjean’s office. Courfeyrac nearly took a step back when Valjean opened the door to his office because the man was absolutely massive. Courfeyrac supposed that none of the students dared cross the line with him, but as big as he was, he also had a kind, compassionate face and Courfeyrac remembered how highly Jehan had always spoken of the principal at his school.
“You must be Mr. Courfeyrac,” Valjean said, ushering Courfeyrac into the office. “Thank you for coming on such short notice. I hope I didn’t put you out too much. Jehan tells me you’re a single father.”
“That’s right.”
Valjean nodded. “I raised my adoptive daughter by myself until I met my current partner when she was fifteen,” he said. “I remember how hard it can be looking after a child all by yourself. How old is your little one?”
“He just turned five,” Courfeyrac said.
“Ah, that’s a fun age,” Valjean said. “Is he starting kindergarten this year?”
Courfeyrac nodded. “He’s enrolled over at Nottingham Elementary.”
“A wonderful school,” Valjean told him. “My daughter works over there. Perhaps I’m biased, but they’ve got some superb teachers working in that school.”
“I’m happy to hear it,” Courfeyrac said. The staff at Lucas’s preschool and daycare had been less than happy to work with him once he started having seizures, and Courfeyrac hoped that whoever Lucas had this year as a teacher would be far more understanding.
“Well,” Valjean said, “let’s take a seat and get this interview started. I assume Jehan filled you in on the situation?”
“He said that there was a bit of a scandal with one of your history teachers,” he said.
“That’s putting it nicely,” Valjean said. “Mr. Morris, our former US history and government teacher, has stepped down after word got out that he fathered the baby one of our recent graduates just had. The local news hasn’t picked up the story yet—though I’m sure they will—and I want to have Morris’s replacement already hired by the time the story breaks.”
“Of course,” Courfeyrac said.
“So, why don’t you tell me about yourself?”
They ran through the normal gamut of interview questions and Courfeyrac talked about how much he loved teaching and working with young adults. He talked about his teaching style and his classroom management and Valjean asked him how he’d approach handling various disciplinary situations. Valjean explained a little about the school’s philosophy and how they tried to treat the students and the faculty here as a team working together instead of some sort of hierarchy. Courfeyrac thought it all sounded like a dream.
“Tell me about your last job,” Valjean said. “I understand you were teaching at a junior high?”
“That’s right,” Courfeyrac said. “I taught US history there for three years. I loved the students I worked with—I had the honor of working with some exceptional kids—but the administration and I didn’t always see eye to eye on things.”
“On what sort of things?”
“Lately they’ve been really cracking down on the girls’ dress code,” he said. “One of the assistant principals in particular was very adamant that the clothes the girls were wearing shouldn’t distract the boys or even the teachers, and while I understand that having some sort of dress code is important, I have real issues with people who prioritize boys’ education over the health and comfort of the girls in the school.”
Valjean nodded. “Is that why you left?”
Courfeyrac licked his lips. He considered lying for a moment, but if Valjean called his old school, the truth would come out anyway. “I didn’t leave so much as I was fired.”
He braced himself for an automatic dismissal, but Valjean’s expression was more thoughtful than disapproving.
“What were you fired for?” he asked.
“Officially,” Courfeyrac said, “I was fired for missing too many days of work. I don’t know if Jehan told you, but my son was diagnosed with a form of epilepsy in the last year—he was having multiple seizures a day last September and October—and I was forced to miss quite a bit of work because of it. I always made sure I had a substitute, but I will put my son’s health in front of my job every time. The school district was less than pleased with the end-of-year test scores from my class.”
“Is your son doing better now?”
“We hope so,” Courfeyrac said. “The type of epilepsy he has is often resistant to treatment, but we’re trying a new medication right now and he seems to be doing very well with it.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” Valjean said, though he made no comment on Courfeyrac’s policy of putting his son before his job. “Do you have any questions for me?”
Courfeyrac asked about the health care benefits—he didn’t care if it made him sound greedy, he needed to be able to pay for Lucas’s medication and his doctor’s bills—and asked how the school handled substitute teachers. He was relieved to hear that he wouldn’t have to pay the subs out of his own paycheck. He was relieved even further when Valjean assured him that they’d happily make reasonable accommodations for him to be with his son when the need arose.
“It’s been a pleasure getting to know you,” Valjean said at the end of the interview. “I very much look forward to getting to know you more during the school year.”
It took a moment for those words to process in Courfeyrac’s mind. “I…I got the job?” he said, stunned. “Don’t you need to interview other applicants?”
“There are no other applicants,” Valjean said. “We couldn’t officially open the job listing without inviting unwanted questions. Jehan assured that I wouldn’t need to interview anyone else after I met you—and it seems he was right.”
“So I got the job?” he said again.
“If you want to take it,” Valjean said, “then it is certainly yours.”
Courfeyrac reached across the desk to shake the man’s hand. “Thank you so much,” he said. “You have no idea how much this means to me.”