From there, Swall launched into some faux-inspiring lecture about how they as educators should see the changes as opportunities—victories for integration and inclusion. He encouraged the administrators to begin “fact-finding” about what they might need in order to best support River Valley’s students at their own campuses, but implored them to keep the information confidential at the administrative level until the all-faculty summit in February. He left little time for an open floor, no doubt to curb the number of questions he’d have to answer aloud.
“Feel free to email,” he said against the swell of frustrated voices. While February and Phil had borne the brunt of the loss, the district had still been dealt enough large-scale blows for the room to be alight with anger and fear. February tried to get to Henry afterward, but he had slipped away before she could reach him.
You o-k? she said to Phil, as they returned to their cars.
Phil nodded, but didn’t say anything.
I’d really like to keep this locked up until after break. No sense ruining everyone’s Christmases, right?
Another nod.
All right, drive safe.
February watched Phil get into his car, and stood there leaning on her own hood until he pulled out of the parking lot. Then she got in the driver’s seat and took out her phone. She had every intention of calling Mel and letting her know she was on her way home, maybe offering to pick up something for dinner, but instead she felt herself glance into her rearview before placing a video call to Wanda. Wanda answered on the second ring, as if she’d been waiting for her.
How’s it going? February said, flustered.
It usually took deaf people a while to notice the flash of the phone and pick it up; February had been expecting more time to get herself in order.
Fine, Wanda said, gesturing to a stack of papers on the table beside her. Grading labs. Are you in your car?
Yeah, just got out of a meeting up at the admin building.
Oh right. How’d it go?
Well—
There was a lump gathering in February’s throat and she was thankful that she wouldn’t have to overcome it with her voice. Still, her eyes began to fill and she swiped at them with embarrassment.
Aw, I told you you should have taken another week. It’s too much.
No, she said, shaking her head.
It’s not that.
What then? What’s wrong?
The color left Wanda’s cheeks. February tried not to think about how it only made her freckles more prominent.
River Valley? she said.
February nodded.
Not good.
We’re finished, aren’t we.
She nodded again. She was full-on crying now, and dug an old napkin out of the cupholder to dab her nose.
Yeah. End of the school year.
Shit.
She waited for the fireworks, but Wanda simply dropped her hands into her lap.
You seem…calm.
No. I’m just not surprised, is all.
But our enrollment numbers are actually good! Our test scores are up from two years ago—
You know it’s not about that.
February usually admired Wanda for her clarity of vision, but the other woman’s foresight bothered her now. She had been blindsided by the loss of River Valley, and resented that Wanda somehow wasn’t. Then again, February would never truly understand what it was like to stand guard against an encroaching enemy for so long, to watch the cavalry barreling toward you and be helpless to stop it. From Wanda’s position, on the precipice of extinction, she would have seen this coming on the horizon for a very long time.
I know, I know. Money talks.
Money, yeah. But not only that.
February sighed. It would be much easier if it really was just about money—in a vacuum, or even in the regular ways money for education was politicized.
I just kind of thought The End would be more high-tech.
This has always been their endgame. They can’t get away with lining us up for mandatory surgery anymore—at least not in this country. They’re going to fear-monger and isolate us. They’ll strip us of money and power until the last of us goes willingly.
I just wanted more time. I’m worried about the kids.
Me too.
They sat for a moment looking at one another, a stretch made awkward not because they were uncomfortable in each other’s presence, but because they couldn’t quite get close enough—the curse of video conversations, trying for eye contact, but finding only your own gaze.
Wait, said Wanda after a while. You two have to move out.
We do.
Shit.
That’s the refrain.
When will you tell the faculty?
Not till after the holiday, if we can manage it.
Good idea.
Maybe even wait until the summit. Let Swall break the news.
Wanda nodded.
Thank you, said February.
For what?
I don’t know.
She gestured at the passenger window, as if there was something out there, a concrete representation of their plight. But there was only an empty parking lot, unseasonably warm in the last dregs of daylight.
She and Wanda said goodbye, and February phoned Mel’s favorite Chinese place, picked up their order on her way home. Mel arrived a few minutes after her, pleasantly surprised by the spread.
Thought it was my night for dinner, she said.
What, I can’t spoil you once in a while?
You may, said Mel, leaning in to kiss her.
They carried the cartons to the dining table and heaped lo mein, sweet and sour pork, and scallion pancakes onto their plates.
Good batch, said Mel with a mouthful of pancake. You okay? Your eyes are red.
February nodded. Normally, the more reticent February became, the harder Mel pushed her to talk. While this sometimes led to arguments, usually it also made her feel better, so February had been expecting, almost looking forward to, this exorcism. But Mel remained gentle and accommodating, and February had neither the capacity to jump-start an emotionally difficult conversation nor the will to disturb calm waters.
The next week passed, and still she said nothing. The longer she stayed quiet, the easier it was to sink into the folds of the lie. Was it even a lie if she didn’t say anything at all?
It was easy to justify: she still had plausible deniability until the summit. Was she so wrong in wanting to squeeze the last few weeks of normalcy from their home and her partner and the life they’d built? She and Mel had never lived together anywhere but here. The real reason, though, was that February needed the future to stay suspended in magical thinking just a little longer. Once Mel knew, Mel would begin to plan, and River Valley’s lot would be concretized, and there would be no going back.
It’s a process, Mel had said, carrying a pair of grilled cheeses to the living room Sunday evening.
What?
Grief, she’d said.
So that was it—Mel thought she was still mourning her mother. Which she was, of course. But grief aside, February had begun to feel a different kind of uneasiness. She assumed it was shame about having put Wanda before her own wife, but when she really thought about it, she wasn’t sorry.
wanda had seen the end of the world once before. She was seven, her older brother seventeen, the night he opened their front door to put out the trash and was met with two shots to the neck. Over the years, they’d come to assume it was a case of mistaken identity—it had been early when it happened, the sun not even all the way set, an unlikely time for a burglary gone awry, and the crew her brother ran with wasn’t anything. But he had bled out almost immediately, and no one else had seen anything, leaving them with only guesses and a cold case file.