These Days

The Phantom of the School Play

John POV. That night after dinner John went outside on the porch, sitting on the chair and watching the stars floating above the small housing development in which they lived. He sighed, thinking about the brief moment of eye contact he had with Mr. Holmes when he had picked Hamish up, he felt so guilty for only nodding. John had wanted to wave or even roll down the window and have a conversation, but something inside him wouldn't function correctly and it felt like his stomach was made of butterflies. It was an incredibly odd sensation, and he hadn't been able to get it out of his head since he had driven off. Unfortunately his thought pattern was interrupted by the sliding door opening and Mary coming out to sit next to him. She gently took his hand, messaging his palm with her thumb and sighing.
"Are you alright John?" she asked sweetly, but it sounded like she was sincerely worried about him.
"Of course I'm alright, what do you mean by that?" John asked.
"You've been pretty distant these past couple of days, I just want to make sure there's nothing on your mind." She insisted.
"There's plenty on my mind, that new office building for one, it's just work honey, it'll slow down when winter comes." John assured.
"I feel like you won't spend time with Hamish until I remind you, and you hardly ever talk to me anymore." she pointed out.
"I've just been busy; I assure you there's nothing else." John assured. "I love you and Hamish very much, and I don't want you to think otherwise." John kissed Mary softly just to show that he wasn't just making it up, but the kiss missed the usual sparkle it used to provide. Mary looked satisfied though and she leaned her blonde head on his shoulder and snuggled as close as she could get in her chair, her breath warm against the chilly night air.
"I just wish that sometimes we could go back, fall in love all over again, get rid of all these adult responsibilities and all." She sighed. John just held her hand and didn't respond, he just wished he could go back as well, but if he had the chance he didn't know if he'd make the same decisions he did back then. Not that he wasn't happy, he was happy, but he was sure there was an opportunity long gone that might have taken him down a different path, and so far he had no idea what that path had led to. After a while the two of them got up and tucked Hamish in, going to sleep themselves. John didn't fall asleep easily though, he stared at the ceiling, not being able to shake this annoying feeling deep in his stomach that he was doing something all wrong, that he was missing the obvious and tying his own noose around his neck.     

The days passed slowly, John would drive Hamish to school as much as possible, but some days he skipped as to not cause any suspicion to Mary. Not like there was anything to be suspicious of, there was nothing waiting for him at the school at all. But whenever he would see Mr. Holmes he could almost feel like the man had just looked away, and there were only a precious few moment where they would make eye contact. It wasn't like it lasted or did anything, once and awhile they would wave, but most times the second his eyes met those of Mr. Holmes' both would look away quickly, pretending that nothing had happened but running the occurrence over in their heads as many times as possible, feeling that weightless sensation in their stomachs that neither could figure out the meaning of. Finally the school play came, well, finally to the kids. The adults however were dreading it as much as their final days on Earth, but they couldn't let the kids know.
"Come on, we'll be late, I don't want to be late!" Hamish insisted, running down the stairs in the assigned outfit. He hadn't gotten either of three lead roles, so he was wearing black pants and a plain white polo shirt, his blonde hair brushed neatly and his shoes shined. He looked stage ready, and Mary couldn't seem to be able to handle it, taking as many pictures as she could of her little Hamish, her little star, as she kept saying. Meanwhile John was making sure the video camera was charged and that he wasn't forgetting his phone or anything else to make sure his experience wasn't as dreadful as it could be. Of course it was nice to see Hamish in a play, but considering that he had one line it wouldn't be all that great. Of course Hamish would be part of all the off keys songs and stuff, preforming the dreadfully uncoordinated dancing and fake laughing at all the jokes, but John really wasn't looking forward to it. The only thing he was really looking forward to was the hope that he might run into a certain teacher there, maybe suffering as much as he was, and they could talk a little bit. John honestly didn't know what excited him so much about the idea of talking to Mr. Holmes more, maybe it was just the fact that he was a new person in John's dreadfully dull life, or maybe John could see that he was a really good teacher and able to teach Hamish the material he needed in life. Either way though, John really wanted to maybe makeup for those awkward eye contacts and get a few words in. The two of them hadn't really spoken after the papers were handed through the car window, and it felt like ages ago. He only hoped that Mr. Holmes felt the same hopeful anticipation he did.
"Okay, let's go then, everything ready?" Mary asked, holding a very excited Hamish's hand. John nodded in agreement, following the two out to the car and driving down the school. Hamish kept blabbing on about the play, and finally,when John almost couldn't take it anymore, he arrived at the building. There were cars everywhere, parked in the parking lot and along the road, all slicked up and washed as if it were some sort of fashion show. John rolled his eyes, having to park alongside of the road and walk to the school. Hamish was practically bouncing between them, holding both of their hands and letting the two adults swing him between them. When they got inside they were handed pamphlets and they bought their tickets and got their seats in the large auditorium. Hamish had gone backstage, and they could see the large red curtain moving around as if little kids were pulling on the fabric. Often a hand would appear through the gap and a fit of laughter and then it would disappear very fast, like they were yelled at or something. John couldn't tell how any human could ever deal with children like this; Mr. Holmes must really be on top of things mentally just to not throw them off the roof. Finally the play started, and, as guessed, John was shooed to the back to video tape. Most of the parents just took pictures with their phones from their seats and John was the only one in the back with the video camera, capturing the opening song and all that jazz. He really didn't feel like the whole thing had to be recorded, so he only picked a select few numbers to tape and the rest he just watched, leaning against the wall and hoping for some sort of invitation back to his chair.
"Enjoying the play?" asked a deep, familiar voice beside him. John jumped, in the semidarkness he didn't notice Mr. Holmes had sneaked up on him, standing a bit of a distance away but close enough to talk without getting hissed at by the audience.
"Oh, yes, um, it's wonderful." John lied, feeling as though something was trapping his words in his throat, making it hard to communicate the right way.
"Well that's a bit odd, I find it truly dreadful." Mr. Holmes admitted.
"Well, I was going to pretend..." John shrugged. Mr. Holmes chuckled silently, looking down at his feet as to hide his amusement.
"I think Hamish's line is after the intermission, so you probably don't want to get your hopes up too soon." Mr. Holmes pointed out.
"There's an intermission?" John asked with a bit of disappointment.
"Only because they have to go to the bathroom every ten minutes." Mr. Holmes assured. John breathed a sigh of relief; he was worried the play would last over an hour.
"Did you write it?" John asked, leaning slightly on the wall and feeling his legs start to feel like jelly.
"Oh, well, I tried, but they rejected my script. Apparently it was too morbid." Mr. Holmes sighed.
"Morbid?" John asked in surprise.
"Well, this play is highly illogical; I don't know why they encourage the children to think that there actually is a method of space travel out there that would last this long. My idea was that the fuel runs out after said amount of time and the air pressure collapses." Mr. Holmes decided.
"Ya, that is a bit morbid." John agreed.
"Shame really, these poor children might actually think there are a bunch of singing aliens somewhere out there." Mr. Holmes sighed.
"Spoilers." John whispered slightly.
"Apologies." Mr. Holmes laughed. "I see you're on camera duty then."
"Oh, yes, Mary's the one that actually cares, so here I am." John sighed.
"So you can never look back on it and have even more clutter on your computer, am I right?" Mr. Holmes guessed.
"100% correct, yes." John agreed with a laugh. There was a loud song coming on now, and John kind of sighed because now they couldn't talk. If they did the other parents would be able to hear, and after so many little kid voice cracks he was kind of done.
"May I interest you in some discounted fruit punch?" Mr. Holmes offered.
"Oh, I thought you'd never ask." John agreed, closing the video camera and following Mr. Holmes into the deserted lobby. There were multiple tables with large jugs and plates of cookies, all untouched and probably for intermission. It was a lot quieter in here and it was like a breath of fresh air. Mr. Holmes went over and filled up two of the plastic cups with red punch, walking very stiffly, as if he were nervous about messing up or something. Meanwhile John pretended to be interested in the pictures on the walls of previous year's plays, trying not to look over at the teacher every once and a while.
"Here you are." Mr. Holmes said, handing him a cup of fruit punch.