Something About Us

The Preschool Interview

Hampton Thorin Primary School, November 23rd 2000

Arthur Charles Burgess

      “There’s something wrong with your son,” Miss Garrick said gingerly in her soft voice. Miss Garrick looked pretty indeed even though she was at least thirty-eight while I was barely twenty-two. Her eyes shone soft brown behind her round spectacles; dimples sliced her cheeks when she smiled.
        “What’s wrong with our son?” Beatrice Burgess asked next to me. My wife of five years looked absolutely alarmed at Miss Garrick’s words.
        Instead of sitting down and listening to what we said like the good boy he was supposed to be, October was nosily playing with a little toy car driving it up and down Beatrice’s leg. Almost instinctively Beatrice collected October in her arms and kissed his cheeks.
        “Well I’ve just been noticing he doesn’t act like the rest of the children,” Miss Garrick continued looked at me with wide pity-filled eyes. I found it hard to believe that I looked at her with desire near moments ago. In what way was October not a perfectly normal little boy?
          I flicked my eyes over to October to scan him to see what possibly could have been wrong with October. October appeared as a happy – if not mischievous – little five year old squirming around in his mother’s arms. His cheeks round and rosy like a cherub’s, his pale blue eyes following the path of his red car carefully and his dark hair all askew on his head even though I had combed it thoroughly before we left for the interview.
          “So what is it? Do you think my son’s slow or something?” I asked a little impatiently. So October’s teacher had noticed something wrong with him and she laboured to tell us? I could hardly believe it. What could be the worst thing she could say? As far as I knew October was an intelligent boy – far too intelligent as he frequently told Miss Garrick everything about our home life right down to how much junk Beatrice and I had beneath our beds.
        “No, no, no!” Miss Garrick cried shaking her head. She smiled and then laughed a little. She scratched her short head of hair. Beatrice flicked her eyes over to me and rolled them demonstrating her lack of patience around his woman. I smiled. Perhaps we were better suited to each other then I had thought. “Your son . . . he thinks he’s dating one of his classmates. He and the girl kiss often.”
          I laughed and ruffled October’s hair. “My little boy is a lady killer isn’t he?” My words elicited a laugh from Beatrice who smoothed October’s hair and planted a kiss on his cheek. Miss Garrick took a deep breath and then continued;
          “He kisses the boys too.”
          All of a sudden my neck felt cold.