I had seen Mr. Baxter at work before . . . well it wasn’t really “at work”. It was after school and he was showing the kids how to play a little baseball. The kids were having a great time and Mr. Baxter looked happy and content even when a student or two did something stupid. He didn’t chastise anyone. He just made a simple remark or encouragement of one or two of the players and the game continued. It was after school and Mr. Baxter earned no extra pay for all his running around on the baseball field. I’m sure he would have done the same if the kids were playing soccer or tennis.
At dinner that night we were eating Joey’s favorite food . . . well, it didn’t really matter what it was; no matter whatever his mom made was Joey’s favorite food. At one point during dining Joey asked, “Why do some teachers not like Mr. Baxter?” My fork froze in mid-air and I asked, “What?” and then just looked at Joey.
Joey moved around a little bit in his chair and then forced himself to report he had heard two female teachers talking about Mr. Baxter and then he threw his head back and pretended like he was drinking a beer, which made me a little leery and put me off a bit. Emma just looked down over her glasses at me with one raised eyebrow. My mouth made some movement, but it took a while to explain it had been a hot day when I drank a cold Rainier, months ago and then let Joey taste a small sip. Emma just focused on my eyes and I said . . . well, nothing. Joey went on. “Mrs. Torvid, and Mrs. White were giggling” but I don’t know why.
Emma asked Joey, “What did they say?” Joey said, “I don’t know what they had been saying, I was just asking about what I saw.” Emma said, “I understand. I think they must have been joking about something and not really talking about Mr. Baxter.” Joey said “Could be.” But all three at the table knew that was wrong. When Joey went to bed, Emma said, “Mrs. Torvid is just two blocks away. I’m going to go talk to her.” Emma returned with a little fire in her eyes, but without much detail. Mrs. Torvid apologized and said she was just acting out what someone else had remarked about Mr. Baxter.
I looked at Emma and said, “I’m going to nip this in the bud right now.” I went out to the car and few minutes later found myself at Mr. Baxter’s front porch. I stood there looking at Mr. Baxter without a thing to say. I cleared my throat and said, “Have you got beer? I could certainly use one.” Mr. Baxter said, “Sorry, I never liked the taste especially after being a teenager. I sometimes buy a six pack and donate them to a couple old friends of mine who don’t have as much money as I have, which ain’t a lot from school teaching. I do have some very, very good coffee, but it might keep you up an hour or two. I’m used to it.” I went for the strong coffee so I wouldn’t look or act like a fool.
Back home while Emma and our son slept until morning, I managed to weed the garden in the dark, wash and polish the car and the truck, clean out the cupboards, dusted and polished every item in the house and was still picking the apple tree clean when I heard my alarm ring.
I waited until the afternoon before going to the elementary school and complaining about lies and made-up stories. The principal ignored me as he discussed everything with all of his teaches except for one. Actually, I am just guessing what I thought went on . . . or hoped what went on. Somehow when I woke up it was after four, the students and the teachers had all gone. The janitor woke me up and sent me home . . . after warning me about the sins of alcohol.
