Sharon was sitting outside at La Fourchette. As Jeremy sauntered towards her, she felt the surge of sexual pleasure that had blossomed when they were teens in Branford, Minnesota. Even then she knew a romance could never be. He was gay. He adored her and she him. And they had talked it out so, so many times. The injustice of her having the hots for him, but not vice versa. The talking and the hugging and the holding hands helped. Helped a lot. But at least once a month one would say, “Still sucks, doesn’t it?” “Yep.” Then they’d grab each other’s asses and laugh ’till their stomachs hurt.

What didn’t suck was how the friendship kept growing even when they thought it couldn’t. The best part? They were both 35, and they knew it would be better 50 years from now.

*************

“Outside okay with you?” she asked.

“Sharon, it’s 60 degrees and sunny. Back home, it’s …”

“My father would say, ‘Colder ‘n well digger’s ass.’”

“Maybe around you. Around me it was ‘fucking Minnesota.’”

“Really? He would say that?”

“For him that was mild. He just didn’t think it was respectful to use profanity around women, especially his daughter.”

“He’s a sweetypie.” As Jeremy’s eyes started to water, she reached over and squeezed his hand.

“Yeah, he was. I was fifteen. You had just told him that I’d come out. He opened your front door when I knocked and  all of a sudden he had me in this bear hug. He kept whispering into my ear, ‘You’re a good boy, Jeremy. You’re a good boy.’ There was nobody else in the house. He tugged me out onto your back porch, sat me down, went back into the kitchen. Came back out with a couple of Leinies. And we talked about … I don’t know … stuff for two hours until you and your mom came home.”

“That’s him.”

**************

For two years Sharon had been teaching English at a charter school in the District. It had been an abrupt and pleasant change from the mega hours she’d spent as an associate at a K Street law firm where they’d offered a partnership. All she had to do was pony up $250k and the honor and the privilege would be hers forever.

She had taken less than a day to tell them no thanks, pack up her stuff, and walk to the Subaru carrying a box or two. She hadn’t whispered a word of it to Jeremy. Just did it.

“You got something lined up?” he asked when she told him over the phone that night.

“Nope.”

“So … ah … it appears we’re not greatly concerned about future employment?”

“I have offers from three escort services. The money is excellent.”

“And the work would be more honorable than what you were doing at the firm.”

“Ah, sort of a toss up. Unless you agreed to be my only client.”

**************

Her first six months at the school were exhausting. In the beginning she would talk on the phone with Jeremy every night.

“So what drama unfolded today, my pretty?”

“Too many to recount.”

“Pick one.”

“Okay. My ten o’clock class had just ended, and Andrisha, she’s African American. Maybe fifteen. A good six feet tall. Anyway, she’s hanging back. It was clear she wanted to ask me something. I just smiled and nodded at her. She smiled back and asked, ‘Ms. Olson, are you from North Dakota?’”

“I was pretty sure I knew what was coming, but I promise you I did not even smirk. I said, ‘No, honey. But you’re close. I’m from western Minnesota. Why do you ask?’” ‘Because you talk like that lady in the movie Fargo. Frances McDormand.’”

“Then you had to laugh.”

“Well, I giggled. And I told her I was working hard on losing the accent. She said, ‘I hope you don’t lose it. I like the way you talk.’”

***********

After Ramon took their order, Sharon said, “I told you we got a new principal, right?”

“Forgot his name, but you said you liked him. Ralph, Ronald?”

“Roland. Yeah, I did like him. He’s about fifty. Fit. Good looking. Seems to really believe in what the school is all about … “

“Black, white?”

“Light skinned maybe. Does it matter?”

“Nope. So how come you don’t like him now?”

“Shit. I really like this job,” she said as her voice cracked. He reached over and gently pinched her nose like he always did in moments like these. He would wait her out for as long as it took.

“I think he’s been coming on to me.”

“But you’re not sure.”

“Sounds stupid, doesn’t it? That I wouldn’t know one way or the other?”

“Not to me. Some guys are really subtle about making a move on a woman or a guy or whoever.”

“You’re not subtle.”

“Probably get laid more if I were.”

“You’re such an asshole.”

“Tell me what he does. We’ll figure something out.”

***********

“First of all, I don’t think this would be a problem if they hadn’t made me interim head of the English department after Mrs. Garrett retired.”

“She was like 70 and really nice, right?”

“Really nice. Anyway, she had to go into Roland’s office all the time to talk about scheduling, and getting grades in, problem kids. Stuff like that.”

“Probably wasn’t hitting on her.”

“See, that’s the thing. Roland likes women. So …”

“Jesus. But she’s gone. Now you’re the one who has to go in and talk to him.”

“Yep.”

“So what does he do?”

“Well, one thing is the way he looks at me when I’m just telling him about … I don’t know. Grades? I don’t see grades as a sexual topic, but he’ll look at me like some dude in a bar that’s listening intently and I know it’s bullshit. Guy just wants to get in my pants. You know the look.”

“Yes, I’m quite familiar with that look. What else?”

“Okay, he does it real fast, but more than a few times I’ve caught him scoping out my boobs and my legs.”

“Well, yeah but … “

“What, Jeremy?”

“See, the thing is … the thing is, all guys do that. Even I do that.”

“You check out MY boobs and MY legs?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Good. Another thing he does a lot is ask what I’m doing for the weekend. Like he’s trying to find out if I have a boyfriend. Oh, and I don’t do this anymore, but he’s got a couch in front of his desk. If I sat on it, he would always come over and sit next to me. So I don’t sit there anymore. I sit on this really uncomfortable chair.”

“Got an idea. I have a feeling you might like it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure.”

***************

“He’s not really gonna be able to see us in here, Jeremy.”

“Sharon, he doesn’t have to actually see us. Know what I mean?”

“I guess. This is crazy.”

“Just do what we talked about. Okay, he’s coming through the door.” The two of them were scrunched in a thick hedge of forsythia that was in full yellow bloom. The hedge was between the wall of a school building and a sidewalk that lead from an exit door. One that Roland used about four o’clock when he left for the day.

“Rock and roll, baby,” he said as he grabbed the back of her neck and started to kiss her, his tongue wiggling al the way down. At first, even though they’d planned the whole thing, she froze. For about two seconds. Then she got into it. Hands groping everywhere. Mussing his hair and moaning. Lots of moaning. Loud moaning.

The footsteps on the sidewalk stopped. “Sharon, is that you in there? Are you all right?”

“Jeremy, stop. Stop,” she giggled as she tumbled out of the hedge. Lipstick smeared. Blouse half open. Skirt askew.

“Hi, Roland. I’m really sorry about this. Jeremy! Could you come out of there please. I’d like you to meet my boss who just might decide not to fire me.”

Roland’s mouth was open about as wide as it would go.

“Coming. Coming. Just need to make a few adjustments here. Yep. There we go.

Okay, done.” Then this tall muscular guy appears in full camo, brushing yellow petals out of his hair.

“Damn. Left my duffel bag back in there.”

“You can retrieve that later, sweetheart.”

“Of course, manners. Manners. How are you sir,” he said extending a huge hand to Roland who feebly extended his own.

“Got a little carried away there, sir. Just back from a deployment. Wanted to surprise her. Probably could have picked a better time and place to ah … I did propose, didn’t I?”

“Jeremy, go get your duffel bag while I walk Roland to his car,” she said as she put her arm through Roland’s and started to guide him toward the faculty parking lot. The two of them looked like a nurse helping a patient just out of surgery as they made their way down a hospital corridor. She was whispering something to him. Jeremy couldn’t make out the words.

**********

That night they were on the phone.

“Did you get fired?”

“No. He said he was happy for us. Wants to come to the wedding.”

“He can come.”

“Probably not.”

“With me as the maid of honor?”

************