Teaching Tenderness Page 6

  “Well then, since we are trying to figure this out, do you mind going with us to his doctor’s appointment?”

  “Pardon?” I asked in confusion. Why would he want me to go with him to the doctor?

  “You’re his teacher and noticed all the signs that I clearly missed. You can explain it much easier to the doctor than I can. And honestly,” he said as he reached up and rubbed the back of his neck, “I could use the support.”

  Well shit. When he put it that way, how could I refuse? “Let me know when the appointment is.”

  Chapter 11

  Marcus

  Dyslexic. Learning disorder. Dyslexia. Those were the words that plagued my mind long after Anthony hugged Jackson goodbye and thanked me for a delicious dinner. Those where the words that haunted me all weekend. I spent time looking them up on my work computer instead of figuring out quotes and campaigns for my clients. My mind wasn’t at work with me. Instead it was on my son, and the fact that he’d been struggling for years, and I didn’t even notice.

  How could I not have known?

  That was a question I’d asked myself time and again since Anthony had dropped the bomb on me. And I knew he had a struggled with telling me. I could see it in his penetrative blue eyes. Wait, in his what? I shook my head to clear that errant thought.

  “Did you need anything before I go to lunch, Mr. Anderson?” Sheila asked from the doorway.

  A different outcome for my son, I thought to myself bitterly.

  “No, thank you,” I said instead. “Enjoy your lunch break.”

  As soon as Sheila left, I took a deep breath and knew I had to do it. I’d been putting it off all day, and I couldn’t any longer. So after looking up the number in my list, I picked up the phone, and with shaky fingers, dialed the number.

  “Dr. Stinebeck’s office, how may I direct your call?” the receptionist asked from the other end.

  “Hello,” I said with a shaky voice. Jesus was I really doing this? Making an appointment for this? “I-I need to make an appointment for my son, Jackson Anderson.”

  “Of course, Mr. Anderson. Why does he need to be seen?”

  I took a deep breath, about it was time to speak that word out loud for the first time. “I th-think he needs evaluated for dyslexia.”

  There. I did it. I admitted it aloud that my son might have dyslexia and that he needed an evaluation. The receptionist didn’t even hesitate or sound judgmental at all, even after she confirmed his date of birth and saw how old he was. Instead, she squeezed us in on Thursday afternoon, right after school. I didn’t bat an eye when I confirmed the appointment. Any appointments or meetings would have to be rescheduled or handled by the department heads.

  When Sheila returned from her break, I called her into my office so we could go over the schedule for Thursday. I, of course, had a few meetings that needed to be shuffled around. Thankfully, one client was understanding, but only after explaining I had to take my son to the doctor. The other client was a complete jerk about it, and got even more pissed off when I told him that my department head could handle it. Finally, after much coaxing and ass kissing with the promise to take him to dinner to make it up to him, I got his meeting rescheduled, as well. Things like that made me wonder why we kept him on as a client, but he was one of our bigger ones and we needed him, which he was well aware of.

  It was one of my late nights at work, so Kathy had to pick Jackson up for me at school. I was annoyed that I had to do so, because I wanted to discuss Jackson’s appointment with Anthony, but it would have to wait.

  My stomach growled, and I remembered I hadn’t taken a lunch yet. One of the perks of being boss was that I could take my breaks whenever I had time. And apparently, that time was now. So I put my computer in sleep mode, alerted Sheila that I was stepping out, and walked down the street to the local deli. After eating a turkey sandwich and washing it down with a bottle of water, I sat in my seat and stared out the window… just thinking.

  It all made sense. Whether I wanted to admit it to myself or not, and no matter how much I prayed that the appointment with Dr. Stinebeck would come back with good news, I knew that Anthony was right. All the nights that Jackson got frustrated with his homework. All of the easy words that he missed on his spelling test, and I just assumed he rushed through it. All the times he cried with a headache or stomach ache when it was time to work on reports or write papers. Everything he experienced were the signs the internet listed when it came to dyslexia. And I had missed every single one.

  What kind of father was I? How could I miss something so crucial? I easily brushed them aside with one excuse after another, and didn’t stop once to ask Jackson what was bothering him. Fucking father of the year, I was. I was so ashamed of it, and I had no idea what to do to make amends.

  I knew it was time to head back to work. I had sat there long enough in my self-induced pity party and the paperwork wasn’t going to do itself. And while I could easily get lost in it, there was no way I was going to that day. But leaving work early wasn’t an option. Not when I had to schedule so much around Jackson’s appointment with the doctor later in the week.

  I didn’t know what compelled me to ask Anthony to tag along. Emotions overwhelmed me, along with thoughts of what I needed to do. Also, the fact that I was going through it alone had me feeling helpless. So when Anthony came over and touched my shoulder, I nearly came unglued. The only family I really had was Jackson. My parents had moved to Florida after retiring, and I was an only child. Sure I saw them during some holidays, but they weren’t the type of parents I could easily call up and have a heart to heart with. So as soon as Anthony used the word “we”, well the invitation for him to come along just sort of slipped out. I was happy he agreed to tag along; albeit hesitantly.

  It was later on that night when I let myself inside, completely exhausted, that I realized what Jackson was talking about with Kathy. My house, already tidy from Jackson picking it up on Friday when Anthony came for dinner, was sparkling clean. Kathy was waiting for me, standing in the middle of the living room with a huge smile on her face, and she greeted me with exuberance.

  “Hey there, Marcus! Dinner is warming for you in the oven, and Jackson is in the shower. Did you have a good day at work?” she asked as she stared at me expectantly.

  Before Jackson brought it up, I had thought she was only doing those things to help me out, since I was a single father. But now I wasn’t so sure. I never expected, or asked, her to do anything for me other than pick Jackson up from school, and make sure he got his homework done. On nights she watched him, I often left money on the counter to order pizza for dinner, or I had plenty of frozen meals in the freezer. But now, thanks to Jackson, I understood why she did all that stuff, and I wasn’t sure what do about it.

  “Thanks for everything, Kathy. Have a great night and be careful getting home,” I said, trying to dismiss her in the nicest way possible.

  I watched as her face fell a bit before offering me a forced smile. She put her shoes back on and reached for her purse that was perched on the couch and let herself out. Well that sucked, but there was nothing I could really do about it. She was a great babysitter for Jackson, and the woman could cook. I just didn’t expect her to.

  The next day at work passed in a blur, and I found myself scrolling through my email looking for something for a particular client. That, for some odd reason, was when I remembered that I’d never gotten around to telling Anthony about Jackson’s appointment. I knew his email address for the school was listed in my contacts, because he handed out contact information on the students’ first day. Without any hesitation, I opened a new email and addressed it to him.

  Hello Mr. A,

  I am writing this email to inform you that Jackson has an appointment with his doctor this Thursday at 3:45. I will be picking up Jackson, and you, promptly at 3:30 so please don’t keep me waiting.

  Best regards,

  Marcus

  I sent the email and went back to work.
I was lost in typing up a memo for my department when a little ding alerted me to an incoming email. My heart raced a little bit when I saw that it was from Anthony. Why the hell was my heart racing? I rushed to open it and smiled at the reply.

  Dude,

  How many times do I have to remind you that my name is Anthony? And what’s with all the formality? You sound like a stuffed suit or something. Anyway, yes I will have myself and Jackson ready at 3:30, but unlike someone who has issues with time, I don’t. See ya Thursday. I have to get back to these little people who are supposed to be taking a test.

  I closed the email with a smile and got back to work. Now I had zero regrets about inviting him along. He was going to make the appointment so much easier.

  Chapter 12

  Anthony

  Well this isn’t awkward at all, I thought to myself with a snort. How the hell I wound up sitting beside Marcus Anderson, while his son was carted off by a nurse to be evaluated, still baffled me. Why didn’t I just tell him no? Oh, that’s right, because I was blinded by how freaking sexy he is and wanting to put his sausage in my bun. I hoped he didn’t notice my blush from the direction my thoughts had taken me.

  “So, how long do you think this will take?” Marcus asked from the uncomfortable seat beside me.

  “What?” I asked. “Oh, I don’t know. I’ve never done this before. I’m just here for moral support remember?”

  “Right. How did Wednesday go?” he asked after a few moments of silence.

  Some woman named Miss Kathy had to pick Jackson up on Wednesday. Apparently, his dad had to shuffle some things around, and work a few hours over each night to make time for Jackson’s appointment. I didn’t really engage with her, but from what Jackson told me, she had the hots for his dad. So naturally I saw her as competition and didn’t like her, as if I had a chance. I snorted at that thought and couldn’t hide it that time.

  “What was that?” Marcus asked.

  “Oh, I had a tickle in my throat. Wednesday went fine though. We’re almost done with his report, and I think he’ll get a great grade on it.”

  “Oh, you do?” Marcus asked with smile.

  “I have inside information that he’ll probably get an A,” I whispered conspiratorially.

  “That’s the best kind of information to have,” Marcus replied with a wink.

  What the fuck? Was Marcus flirting with me? Surely not. No way. The dude was straighter than a vertical line. And he was the father of one of my students. Maybe when all of this was over, I just needed to go out and get laid. It’d been a few weeks since I’d been out and got some strange. Not since that night I went home with Sebastian.

  “Mr. Anderson,” the nurse said from the doorway. “You can come on back. Dr. Stinebeck is ready for you.”

  Marcus took a deep breath and wiped his palms on his pants. Slowly, he exhaled and stood up gingerly. “Coming?” he asked after he took a few steps and realized I wasn’t following.

  “Oh, I uh, I can just wait out here,” I said. “I can keep the fish company,” I added with an impish grin and jerked my head toward the oversized aquarium that filled up half a wall. Seriously, they could fit at least three extra chairs in that space.

  “Yeah, no. You need to come back with me. That’s part of the reason I brought you, remember? So you can talk with the doctor, as well.”

  Fuck, he was right. I held in a groan and stood up. With a smile at the nurse, I passed behind the door and we followed her through the maze of hallways that led to the doctor’s office.

  For some reason I was nervous, and it wasn’t even an appointment for me. It was an appointment for my student. But I was a nervous wreck. I was worried what he had to say about Jackson and concerned about how Marcus was going to handle it.

  I looked around and saw that Jackson was seated on a couch that sat along the wall, and he was wringing his hands. He looked very distressed and all I wanted to do was sit beside him, hug him, and reassure him that he’d be okay. But that wasn’t my place. That was something Marcus needed to do, but I could tell he wasn’t the type for public displays.

  Instead, he sat down in the chair facing the doctor’s desk, right next to me, and I could see the hurt that marred Jackson’s face. He obviously wanted his dad to sit beside him.

  “Afternoon gentleman,” Dr. Stinebeck said when we sat down. “I don’t believe we’ve met,” he said and extended his hand to me. “I’m Richard Stinebeck.”

  “Anthony Capriotti, Jackson’s English teacher,” I responded with a firm handshake.

  “Ah yes, you must be the one who discovered the issue?” he asked and titled his head to the side.

  “I ah, I wouldn’t necessarily call it an issue. But I did notice that he was having some difficulties in my class, and needed to be evaluated so we could treat them accordingly.” When I bristled from the Dr.’s words, Marcus tensed up in the seat beside me, and I clamped down hard on my tongue to keep from saying anything. “So, what did you find out?”

  Dr. Dick looked down at the papers on his desk, then looked back at us. “Jackson has dyslexia.”

  Well no shit. I could’ve told him that. But I knew it was better for Marcus to have it properly diagnosed and get a treatment in place.

  “Okay,” Marcus breathed out. “Now what?”

  “Well, now we need someone who can properly tutor him. And if that doesn’t work, then we can look into getting him started with speech and cognitive therapy.”

  Marcus opened his mouth, but I beat him to it. “Um, excuse me a second. What do you mean someone who can properly tutor him?”

  Dr. Dick looked taken aback. “I beg your pardon. I didn’t mean it that way. I just mean we need a licensed individual who can work with him multiple times a week.”

  I laughed at his gall. “And what do you think I’ve been doing, Doc? I’m a licensed English teacher with a master’s degree. I minored in linguistics, for the hell of it, because all of the other majors sounded boring. If anyone can tutor Jackson, it’s me. And I won’t charge a fortune to do so, either.”

  After my little tirade, I stood up and walked over to Jackson, who sat there completely helpless on the couch. “Come on little dude. Let’s walk next door and get some ice cream while your dad and Dr. Dick finish up in here.”

  Marcus and the doctor gaped at me, but I didn’t give them a second glance. Instead, I stretched my hand out to Jackson, and he eagerly grasped it. Then without even asking his dad’s permission, I walked out of the office and ushered him next door for the biggest dipped cone we could buy.

  “Are you really going to tutor me, even though the book report is almost done?” he asked, and I smiled at the chocolate that covered his face.

  “Absolutely. We’ll get this all sorted out,” I promised him with a smile, before I took a big sip of my milkshake.

  “How did you know I had problems reading?” he asked after we sat there for a few minutes eating our ice cream.

  I shrugged. “Because I noticed.”

  Jackson stared at me in wonder for a few minutes, and I watched as he swallowed a few times before speaking. “No one ever has before.” His voice was barely above a whisper.

  I stared at him intently, my milkshake all but forgotten. “What do you mean?”

  “None of my other teachers noticed when I had problems with my work. They just told me to do better next time and gave me bad grades.” He reached up and scratched his head in a nervous gesture, and when he set his hand down, I placed mine on top of his. Even if I had wanted to stop that gesture, I couldn’t. He needed that comfort. “No one else noticed,” he repeated in a whisper.

  It took me a few moments to collect myself before I was able to talk again. “That’s okay, Jackson. Because I noticed you. And I will be the one to help you, as well.” At least that was what I hoped for. I prayed I didn’t let this kid down.

  That’s where Marcus found us a few minutes later. Seated at that table, eating our ice cream, with my hand still over his. By that
time, we both wore smiles and Jackson still had chocolate smeared all over his face.

  Chapter 13

  Marcus

  I couldn’t stay much longer after Jackson and Anthony had left. It was hard to look Dr. Stinebeck in the eye after Anthony had referred to him as Dr. Dick, even if that was how he was acting. And it was hard to remain there when I was so turned on and extremely confused about it. Why was I so turned on by a man? But considering the blood rushed to my dick fast enough to make me feel faint, there was no denying who or what turned me on. And that was when Anthony had told Dr. Stinebeck off.

  So with as much dignity as I could muster, I shook the doctor’s hand, told him I’d be in touch if I need any referrals for therapy, and rushed out of his office. Thankfully, my suit jacket hung down far enough to cover my crotch. I made a beeline toward the bathroom and locked myself inside. I turned the faucet on and proceeded to splash water on my face in hopes of calming myself down. Not only was I embarrassed, and confused, about my reaction to Anthony, but I was also extremely upset about what the doctor had said about Jackson.

  Even though I had known the truth, it was a lot different hearing it from the mouth of a professional. It made it feel all that more real. And while I sat there in complete silence, Anthony had spoken up. He stood up for Jackson and volunteered to continue the tutor sessions. Then, instead of letting Jackson sit there and continue hearing what the doctor had to say about him, Anthony escorted him out of the room. And without even seeing if I cared, he took my son for some comfort in the form of ice cream.

  And that’s where I found them minutes later. Seated closely at the table, with chocolate smeared all over Jackson’s face, and Anthony’s hand covering my sons. And for some odd reason, I felt a twinge of … something I couldn’t put my finger on in my chest. And it was mixed with a hint of jealousy. It was utterly ridiculous. I was jealous of my son for holding Anthony’s hand, and my own hand began to tingle. I really needed to get it together, and then think about it hardcore when I was alone in my room.