The fifteen minutes quickly became a half hour, and the half-hour somehow expanded to an hour.
Soon Neal was staying late almost every day.
"Doesn't you mother get worried? It's nearly 5 o'clock."
For the first time since the school-year started, Peter saw something unpleasant in Neal's eyes.
"My mother - she couldn't care less. She's too busy with her own life to care if I'm home."
An evil thought occured to Peter. "Neal - doesn't your mother have ... a problem?" He tried to be delicate - kids didn't like when adults pried too hard.
"A problem? Oh, you mean drugs or booze, right?" Neal laughed. "No - my mother's only addiction is to her job. She's a big-shot lawyer - and it's always about the clients and the cases. The housekeeper's cool - she makes dinner and leaves it for me to reheat."
"What about your father?" Peter knew that despite the wealth that supported this exclusive private school, there were still kids that lacked the traditional 2-parent home.
"My father - you've got to be kidding me. Mom got herself knocked up at a sperm bank when she was 30 - she wanted a kid, but didn't want the hassle of a husband."
Peter tried not to feel sorry for Neal - but damn, this must be why the boy was clinging to him like a limpet. He wanted a father figure. That's all. Those wide eyed looks were meaningless - or they didn't mean what Peter's twisted and dirty imagination thought they meant when he dozed off at night, in his empty bed in his lonely house.
"You married, Mr. Burke?" The question was innocent enough.
"Not any more."
"Your wife left?" Neal was blinking at him - those ridiculous eyelashes fluttering like semaphores. Peter nodded. "Why?"
"Mr. Caffrey - I don't think that's really any of your business." He said repressively. It wasn't - not that he thought Neal would tell the other kids, but his wife left him because he didn't have a vagina and she didn't have a cock, and they were both tired of the lies. They were good friend.
Neal looked down - a little hurt, a little embarrassed. "I'm sorry."
"It's all right - but there are just some things that teachers and students shouldn't talk about together."
Neal changed the subject - asking him if he ever applied calculus to the patterns on Moorish tiles. It seemed that Neal had been to an exhibit at the Cooper Hewitt last weekend, and was fascinated by the spirals and repeating patterns.
They talked about math and art until someone poked their head in the door. It was the principal, Hughes. "Burke - haven't you looked out the window? There's a blizzard on it's way. You need to clear out." The old man then noticed Neal sitting there. "Young man - you've missed the last bus. Is someone going to come and pick you up?"
"Yeah - I've got a car coming for me at 5."
Hughes took the boy's words at face value, but Peter knew that Neal was lying. He was far too glib.
"Okay - you can wait at the front entrance. Burke - we're going to close tomorrow. Get home safely."
Reese Hughes was a good administrator, and despite his gruff attitude, cared about his teachers and his students. When Peter told him about his divorce and the reasons why - Hughes didn't make any dirty-minded assuptions, and just suggested that if he found himself in a permanent relationship, he shouldn't keep it in the closet.
The old man left, and Peter looked at Neal, who was packing up his textbooks.
"You don't have a ride, do you?"
Neal shrugged. "I can walk, it's not that far."
Peter looked out the window - it was getting bad, and there was no way he was going to let Neal walk home.
"Come on, I'll give you a lift."
The boy smiled at him and Peter kept telling himself, just a father figure, just a father figure.
His car, a sturdy black Ford Taurus was already buried in 6 inches of snow. Neal helped him clean it off, and when he lobbed a snowball in his general vicinity, Peter reminded himself that Neal was still a kid, and he threw one back.
It could have descended into a full-fledged snowball fight except that the school's snowplow arrived and the driver called out - "Follow me to the road."
He got in, made sure that Neal was buckled up and hit the road.
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Date: 2011-01-11 05:09 pm (UTC)Soon Neal was staying late almost every day.
"Doesn't you mother get worried? It's nearly 5 o'clock."
For the first time since the school-year started, Peter saw something unpleasant in Neal's eyes.
"My mother - she couldn't care less. She's too busy with her own life to care if I'm home."
An evil thought occured to Peter. "Neal - doesn't your mother have ... a problem?" He tried to be delicate - kids didn't like when adults pried too hard.
"A problem? Oh, you mean drugs or booze, right?" Neal laughed. "No - my mother's only addiction is to her job. She's a big-shot lawyer - and it's always about the clients and the cases. The housekeeper's cool - she makes dinner and leaves it for me to reheat."
"What about your father?" Peter knew that despite the wealth that supported this exclusive private school, there were still kids that lacked the traditional 2-parent home.
"My father - you've got to be kidding me. Mom got herself knocked up at a sperm bank when she was 30 - she wanted a kid, but didn't want the hassle of a husband."
Peter tried not to feel sorry for Neal - but damn, this must be why the boy was clinging to him like a limpet. He wanted a father figure. That's all. Those wide eyed looks were meaningless - or they didn't mean what Peter's twisted and dirty imagination thought they meant when he dozed off at night, in his empty bed in his lonely house.
"You married, Mr. Burke?" The question was innocent enough.
"Not any more."
"Your wife left?" Neal was blinking at him - those ridiculous eyelashes fluttering like semaphores. Peter nodded. "Why?"
"Mr. Caffrey - I don't think that's really any of your business." He said repressively. It wasn't - not that he thought Neal would tell the other kids, but his wife left him because he didn't have a vagina and she didn't have a cock, and they were both tired of the lies. They were good friend.
Neal looked down - a little hurt, a little embarrassed. "I'm sorry."
"It's all right - but there are just some things that teachers and students shouldn't talk about together."
Neal changed the subject - asking him if he ever applied calculus to the patterns on Moorish tiles. It seemed that Neal had been to an exhibit at the Cooper Hewitt last weekend, and was fascinated by the spirals and repeating patterns.
They talked about math and art until someone poked their head in the door. It was the principal, Hughes. "Burke - haven't you looked out the window? There's a blizzard on it's way. You need to clear out." The old man then noticed Neal sitting there. "Young man - you've missed the last bus. Is someone going to come and pick you up?"
"Yeah - I've got a car coming for me at 5."
Hughes took the boy's words at face value, but Peter knew that Neal was lying. He was far too glib.
"Okay - you can wait at the front entrance. Burke - we're going to close tomorrow. Get home safely."
Reese Hughes was a good administrator, and despite his gruff attitude, cared about his teachers and his students. When Peter told him about his divorce and the reasons why - Hughes didn't make any dirty-minded assuptions, and just suggested that if he found himself in a permanent relationship, he shouldn't keep it in the closet.
The old man left, and Peter looked at Neal, who was packing up his textbooks.
"You don't have a ride, do you?"
Neal shrugged. "I can walk, it's not that far."
Peter looked out the window - it was getting bad, and there was no way he was going to let Neal walk home.
"Come on, I'll give you a lift."
The boy smiled at him and Peter kept telling himself, just a father figure, just a father figure.
His car, a sturdy black Ford Taurus was already buried in 6 inches of snow. Neal helped him clean it off, and when he lobbed a snowball in his general vicinity, Peter reminded himself that Neal was still a kid, and he threw one back.
It could have descended into a full-fledged snowball fight except that the school's snowplow arrived and the driver called out - "Follow me to the road."
He got in, made sure that Neal was buckled up and hit the road.