I hung my outfit in the kitchen and looked at it critically for the eighth or ninth time today. I wondered what everyone was going to think about me. I was new in town, new at the job, new at school. And nervous about all of it.
I had been teaching art at an after school program for older kids in California for the last three years. I loved it, but I wanted to be in a real school. That had always been the dream.
I'd finally gotten an interview for a dream job I found online. I usually spent four to five hours a week searching for jobs online. The dream job was happening after all this time.
I'd moved to Seattle to take this job at the Volari Academy, a private college preparatory high school. I was going to be teaching advanced art to gifted teenagers. It was a dream job and I started tomorrow.
I barely slept but I was too excited to care. I wore my carefully curated outfit that said both professional and artistic. I usually wore jeans while teaching, so this was a big change. The first of many, I worried to myself. I fought down the anxiety.
Not only had I moved to a new city to start a new job, but I'd recently become single for the first time in over a year.
Hudson had supported my dream job search, always encouraging me. Then I landed the job, on the same coast, and he'd acted like it was a fresh concept to him. He refused to even discuss moving or trying long distance. He'd left me, like a fucking coward.
I stood in the fanciest teachers lounge I'd ever seen, pouring myself some coffee at just after six in the morning. I was one of the first people in the building and I loved that quiet moment at the start of a day. I explored a little while I was alone.
Soon enough the other staff members and faculty started to arrive. I met a lot of interesting, highly intelligent people. It was all a blur after ten minutes. I hoped my first class was easier.
"Tristian? Right?" A tall man said as he joined me in the hall, heading towards my classroom. I'd been here to set it up last week, which made me feel more comfortable, at least a little.
"Yes, that's right. Tristian Kellner. I'm sorry, I don't remember your name." I smiled apologetically. This guy seemed relaxed and casual, so I hoped he'd be cool about it.
"That's because I haven't told you my name. I knew you were being bombarded by the whole staff. Fresh meat, and all." He gestured at me when he said it. "I'm Porter Kostas. Biology."
"Nice to meet you Mr. Kostas." I smiled, really looking at him for the first time. He was tall, several inches over six feet. He had thick brown hair and grey green eyes. As an artist, the color left an impression in my mind.
"Please, call me Porter. It's pretty relaxed around here. Even the kids call me Porter." As he said it, he got approached by a group of students, all joking and laughing with him. He must be a fun teacher. Or just a really great teacher. Kids gravitated to both.
"This is me. See you later Porter." I said as I reached my classroom. I stopped to watch him and his fan club continue down the hall.
In my classroom, I took a deep breath and tried to relax my shoulders. I had about forty-five minutes until my first class started. I put on some soft music near my desk where I sat and reviewed my lesson plan.
My first two classes were freshmen. I felt more relaxed knowing it was their first day here too. They didn't really sense my first day nerves over their own, which gave me a boost of confidence.
The day went by very smoothly. The students seemed really receptive to my new and innovative art projects that I had laid out for them in my syllabus.
Just like the after school program I'd taught in California, these students were here mostly by choice, so they were far more receptive than your standard public school kids. Or even lots of private school kids. This was a school you had to apply to and the tuition was as much as an excellent university. These kids were exceptional.
"I heard good things from the kids." A voice said from the door. My last class ended about fifteen minutes ago and I was cleaning off my desk and making some notes on my laptop.
I looked up and saw Porter leaning in my door jam. When I made eye contact, he stood and walked towards me. With a successful day behind me, I was feeling confident and happy. His comment made me feel even better.
"That's nice to hear." I smiled at him as he got closer to my desk. "The kids were great all day."
"If that's the case, they really must have liked you. They can make life hard for new teachers and substitutes. Trust me."
"I'll count myself lucky. How was your first day? How long have you been teaching here?" I realized I was dying to talk to an adult. A whole day of classes versus a few hours in the afternoon, was a lot more exhausting than I'd imagined.
I knew I'd adjust to the new schedule pretty quickly, but the first few weeks were going to be brutal. I would be tired a lot until I got the lay of the land.
"First day was good. It's always nice to see the kids again. This is my eighth year at Volari. Seventh teaching Biology. I taught a health class the first year. It was a good foot in the door position."
"I was always good at biology. I almost went to medical school instead of becoming a teacher." I said as I packed up my bag.
"Doctor to art teacher. How does that happen?" He asked with amusement in his voice.
"There's lots of doctors in my family, so it was the expected plan. My first year in college I experienced an acute loss and I didn't want that feeling to be part of my future career." I hoped he wouldn't press the issue.
"I guess art is about expression and whatever feeling you want it to be. Medicine can definitely be sad and hard on the soul." Porter agreed, more subdued now.
"I didn't mean to bring the mood down. It was a great day, after all." I smiled, trying to turn this conversation around.
"Of course. I'm the one that asked, so I'm sorry about that. You moved here from California, right?" Porter smoothly changed the subject.
"I was the one that gave the overly honest answer, so I'll take some of that blame." I smiled at him. "Yeah, San Francisco." I stood at my desk now with my bag over my shoulder.
He read my body language and walked with me to the door as I flipped off the lights. "Did you find a place already? When did you get into town?"
"I moved up here just a few weeks ago and I rented a place until I can learn more about the area." I offered.
"Smart. If you need help finding a place, I'm kind of a real estate buff and I've lived here my whole life. I know every neighborhood."
"Thanks, Porter. I'll keep that in mind. I'm going to head home and process the day. I appreciate you being so nice to me. I felt like I had a friend."
"You do have a friend. I was drawn to you the second I saw you. I'm a great judge of people and you seem like a good guy." Porter said as we passed through the office to the staff parking lot.
We said goodbye and he climbed into his fancy sports car. No teacher's salary I'd ever imagined could cover that, but at Volari, I guess maybe it could, after eight years anyway.
The rest of the week flew by and I was as exhausted as I expected, but it was so worth it. It really was a dream job. The kids were amazing. The facility was incredible. And Porter made me feel like I'd always been part of the team.
Porter and I sat and had lunch together in the teacher's lounge Tuesday through Friday that week. He was hilarious and everyone seemed to adore him, students and teachers alike.
He wore jeans everyday other than that first Monday, so I wore jeans on Friday. Fridays at Volari were fantastic. The culinary students made lunch on Fridays and everyone acted like we were in some teen movie. It was ridiculously perfect.
After two weeks, I found myself texting with Porter over the weekend and weeknights. He was so easy to talk to. We had a lot in common and he made me feel comfortable, like no one else ever had.
On Wednesday of the third week, Porter asked me to dinner. His favorite tapas place was opening a new outdoor deck that overlooked Puget Sound. I agreed and met him there at six. Over dinner the conversation was much more "date" like than any we'd had before.
I learned that Porter was 38. He'd played baseball in college and almost turned pro until he was diagnosed with a seizure disorder that ended his career even though it was managed with medication.
He always wanted children but it never happened for him and he didn't really think about it much anymore with his career being all about kids. He also mentioned that he felt lonely a lot. His eyes turned soft when he said it.
"I've felt so much less lonely since meeting you, Tristian. You're quite an amazing person and I'm so happy I met you." His hand touched mine on the table as he said it.
"You've made the transition much easier than I ever expected. I didn't expect to make such a great friend so quickly."
Porter recoiled at the word "friend" but he recovered quickly and played it off. I really liked the guy, but I had just started a new life with a new job in a new place and ended a year long relationship. I wasn't ready for more.
I hoped he would understand. I also really hoped I was reading the whole situation wrong. He was just being nice. Maybe he wasn't hitting on me at all.
The next few weeks went back to normal. We ate lunch together and texted all the time. Everything seemed good, which made me really happy.
I was liking Porter more and more all the time. He seemed to understand I needed to take things slowly and he never pushed too hard. We had dinner together most Wednesday nights. He showed me wonderful places all over the city.
I'd been here for seven weeks and I felt like I was fitting into this whole new life. I had plans for dinner with Porter since it was Wednesday and I thought maybe tonight was the night I'd kiss him.
Porter acted off at dinner, quieter and more subdued than normal. I finally asked him what was wrong.
"I think people at work are starting to think something's going on between us." He looked at his hands as he said it.
"Okay, is that a problem? We're not really "dating". Is this against the rules?" I didn't know where this was going. I felt like he was breaking up with me even though we weren't a "thing".
"It's not expressly against the rules, but it's frowned upon. I don't want you to end up in the firing line your first semester, so we need to cool it. At least at school."
"Okay, so does that mean we won't eat lunch together anymore?" I loved that midday time with him. It had become my routine and I hated the thought it was over.
"We can still eat together, but we shouldn't act so close, if you know what I mean. We should act like friendly coworkers. But outside of work, we can be ourselves." He looked a bit sheepish, clearly worried about how I'd react.
