Bishop: A True Lover's Story

He’d gone alone to the orientation at the ALC—where he’d spent twenty minutes hovering outside the door—but he’d managed to pull the handle and walk into his new future. And he’d been proud of himself. The crowd hadn’t been what he’d expected. There were people of all ages in there from twenty to eighty, and for the first time he didn’t feel as if he stuck out like a sore thumb.

The two-hour orientation had gone well. The administrators of the GED Program were patient and helpful. They’d answered questions without sounding annoyed or making anyone feel simple. Bishop had sat in the back of the large room and paid as close attention as he could. There’d been a short tour of the center where they’d been shown classrooms, two computer labs, and a library. Even online students had full access to the school, its counselors and in-house instructors for tutoring. They’d been ushered into the media room and given a demonstration on how to navigate through the ALC website and a thorough tutorial on the virtual classroom site. Bishop’s knee hadn’t bounced so hard during the technology part as he’d recalled a lot of the lessons Mike had already taught him. He could do this.

At the end of the session, they’d gotten into lines and picked up their materials for their classes. No one knew who was there for what, and Bishop appreciated the privacy. Some people were being handed large textbooks, or thick workbooks, but when he’d reached the front and given his name, the helper handed him a twelve-by-twelve brown envelope and told him good luck as he had everyone else.

“Okay, you don’t have to leave but… just, go in your room or something.”

Mike frowned. “Excuse me?”

Bishop rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean.”

“I said I’d be there for you the whole time. What if you need my help?”

“Then I’ll ask the teacher,” Bishop said.

Mike put his hands on his hips and locked eyes with him. He hated when his dad was reading him, and Bishop knew that if he watched him long enough, he’d eventually see the hidden meaning behind his request. Damn. He was just trying to stand on his fucking own two feet.

“Dad,” Bishop said, his voice thick with frustration. He held Mike’s hard glare. “This is difficult enough, okay. I… I can’t do it with you standing over me so I can be worried about what you’re thinking. I mean look at this shit. You think I want you watching me struggle to fucking read this.”

Bishop held up his class material from his ALC folder. Any time he had to study the basic-ass I Can Read Level One book, his muscles bunched in his neck. It looked like one of those books he’d seen in the kid’s section of Barnes & Noble, complete with goddamn illustrations and everything. He guessed what really bothered him the most was that there were words he didn’t know in the level one book, words he couldn’t even sound out. Fuck me.

Mike sighed, his disappointment falling away to understanding. He clamped his big hands on Bishop’s shoulders and squeezed him. “All right lil’ homie. I can respect that. I’ll be in my room. Love ya kid.”

Bishop watched Mike’s back until he was almost to his room then called out to him. “Dad.”

“Yo.” Mike spun around as if he was ready to come right back if Bishop had changed his mind.

“I love you, too, man,” Bishop rumbled then averted his eyes back to the laptop. Mike said those words to him often but he never waited to hear it in return. It hadn’t been something they were used to doing, expressing their feelings to each other without grappling, it was something new they were trying.

He didn’t look up again until he heard Mike’s door close several seconds later. Now that he was finally alone, he turned his attention towards his lesson. Staring at the level one book, Bishop knew he had so far to go before he even got to those GED courses, but it was too soon to get discouraged. Instead of getting flustered, he took out the sheets of lined paper and started to copy the words he didn’t know over and over, like he’d been instructed. Promptly at six he was logged on to the center’s online classroom.

When he’d logged on for that first class, he thought there were gonna be multiple faces staring back at him, but it was just an older man, in his late forties, standing in front of dry erase board with an easy smile. Bishop thought his teacher was confident and smart, and he liked the way he taught the lessons. He didn’t make the books feel so childish. At the end of the week, he’d turn in this packet and pick up next week’s materials. He felt like he’d be doing that for the next thousand years.