Language of Love

Parentum

    I sit down at my desk and wait for her to show up. The woman knocks on my door, so I get up and open it. Immediately, I'm hit in the face by the smell of cigarettes. Like mother like son.

    "Hi." She says. I smile and take her to my desk. I sit behind it and let her have the chair on the opposite side.

     "My son is doing poorly in your class. He has an A in math, so I'd like to know what's wrong with your class." She demands.
     "Well, all students typically seem to have one or two subjects that they excel in perhaps math for your son, but often the most opposite class, like Latin, can be challenging," I state.
       "Bullshit. How long have you been teaching?" She hissed.
     "This is my first year." I tell.
     "Ah, you're what 25?" She concludes.
     "24, but yes." I answer. She nods.
     "I don't think my son's problem is Latin, hun, I think it's you." She comments.

     "Me? Ma'am I can assure you that I am a capable teacher," I say, trying not look as offended as I am.
     "I'd like for him to switch teachers," She requests.
     "It seems that your son is distracted, I'm not sure why. It may be the people in his class, or because it's the period before lunch, but I think he would benefit more from a class period switch than a new teacher." I reason.
       "No, I know why he is distracted." She tells.
      "May I ask why?"
      "You are kind of like a high schooler. You are young and beautiful. My son likes beautiful women, as I'm sure most men do," She says.
      "Are you saying that he is failing my class because I'm pretty?" I ask.
      "I wouldn't say pretty. You are pretty, but that's not why he's distracted." She continues.

     "Then, why, exactly?" I ask.
     "You have very nice breasts. I'm sure that during your lessons, he's imagining touching your breasts, not learning the vocabulary." She explains. A shudder rubs through my body. How unprofessional can she possibly be? I just want to kick her out.
      "Oh. What would you like me to do? I'm the only Latin teacher at Caldwell." I say.
      "He will switch languages. To a teacher he won't draw naked." She states.

      "To a teacher he won't what?" I stammered.
     "Draw naked. I found a journal of photos. Now, that I've seen you in person, I'm positive you are the subject of many of his journals," She answers. My hand covers my mouth. I grab my phone under my desk and send Fitz a text. Help. Oh. Oh god.
      "Ma'am, your son has been drawing naked photos of me and you aren't worried?" I ask.
      "No, no. It's what all teenage boys do." She says, that's when Fitz walks in. The mother turns to Fitz. "Didn't you draw naked photos of women you enjoyed." She asks. I give him the "get me out of here" look.
       "No?" He squawks.
      "I mean as a teenager!" She explains, as if it's completely normal.
       "Nope, I've never drawn a woman naked. Ever." He clarifies. Giving me a look of pure horror.

      "Well, do you think it's unreasonable for me to want to switch teachers?" She asks.
      "She wants to switch her son to another foreign language, because he draws naked pictures of me." I explain, attempting to look normal.
      "It's reasonable, I suppose. He may struggle, a bit." He says.
      "What do you teach? I wouldn't mind seeing you naked," The woman says.

     "I teach Drama." He lies.
     "Oh, darn." She says and turns back to me. Fitz sends me another text. Wtf. I nod over to him.

     "Why don't I take you to the French teacher." I say. Oh Marx, you are in for quite the treat.
     "Okie-Dokie." She says.

     "This is Mr. Marx," I say. She cocks her head.
     "Turn around." She says, scanning his body. I have to cover my mouth to avoid cackling.
     "What?" Marx says turning around.
     "He's got a nice ass, we'll take him." She says. Fitz tried incredibly hard not to laugh. Marx stares at me.
     "Da hell?" Marx blurts.
      "Her son likes to draw his teachers naked. She wants to see drawing of men rather than women, so she can enjoy them. Let's go get your schedule switched." I say.
       "I'm going to murder you." Marx whispers in my ear before following her to the office.

The four of us walk back from the office once she leaves. Marx gives me the look.
"I'm sorry." I mutter.
"Could you not have brought him to Mr. Coleman?" Marx asks.
"I was going to, but he wasn't in his room, and it wouldn't have been as funny." I say.

"Why didn't she want to have you?" He asks Fitz.
"He told her that he taught drama. Drama." I mimick.
"Oh, drama? That's low." He teases.

"You guys want to go out for drinks?" Marx asks.
"I don't drink, but I'll tag along, I'll have a Pepsi or two," I say.
"You don't drink?" Marx asks.
"She doesn't." Fitz answers.
"Why not? Wait are you like crazy Christian or something?" Marx asks.
"No. My mother was an alcoholic, that's enough reason for me to avoid the alcohol." I answer.
"How about pizza instead?" He asks.
"That's okay, I don't mind. I'm up for virgin drinks." I say.

"Let's do pizza. We can be responsible adults." Marx suggests.
"You people are not responsible adults." Says Devin, who once again appeared out of no where.
"You up for pizza?" Fitz asks.
"Duh." She says.

We go to Fitz and I's pizza place. We get a booth. Devin and Marx sit next to each other, I sit next to Fitz. He puts his arm around me.

"Where's Courtney?" I ask, eating a garlic strip.
"Family reunion," Devin answers.
"Ew." Marx says. Fitz nods in agreement.

On Saturday night, Fitz knocks on my door. He smiles. I look at him nervous.

"Question." He states.
"Proceed," I answer.
"Will you go to church with me in the morning?" He asks.
"Church? You go to church?" I inquired.
"Yes, do you not?" He questions.
"I've never been."
"Oh. Well, let me take you. You can meet my church family," He says. I try incredibly hard not to laugh.
"Church family?" I ask.
"Yeah, well, my parents aren't exactly the best people, but I've met great people at my church who have kind of taken me under their wing. I'm sure they'd love to meet you," He says.
"Yeah..."
"See you at 7, tomorrow!" He says.

What did I just get myself into?