CHAPTER28
Tristan
Jared, Tommy, and Wendy are absolutely wired.
Santa Claus is coming tonight, and all three kids feel confident that they’ve been rarely naughty and much more frequently nice. Their group attitude can be described as “bring on the loot, Santa.”
It’s been a busy day. We’ve baked and decorated gingerbread men—one has been designated as Santa’s midnight snack. We’ve watched four different YouTube cartoon videos about elf antics, gone for three walks in the slushy snow, and scattered reindeer food on our tiny front porch. The kids are now negotiating whether they can open Remi’s presents when he stops by.
“Coach Remi will want to, like, watch us open the stuff he picked out,” Jared insists.
“Presents are to be opened on Christmas Day, not Christmas Eve,” Tara argues. She knows that Remi’s gifts constitute a significant portion of what will be under the tree tomorrow morning. “Right, Tris?”
I shrug, hoping to stay out of the controversy.
“Emmie promised to bring me Bah-Bah Lamb Baby’s sister, Bah-Bah Black Sheep.” Except for a residual cough, Wendy has recovered from last week’s cold. “And baby lambs shouldn’t sleep all night long in boxes with big bows on top!”
“Mommy, I wanna paint Santa a picture to go with his cookie—and Coach Remi’s bringin’ me new watercolors to use. Gotta open them tonight.”
Yeah, I’m staying out of this; it’s Tara’s decision. I sit on the counter near the sink, sip a beer, and keep my mouth closed.
“Hope you’re feeling merry, Wilder family!” Dacia pushes open the door, kicks the snow from her boots, pulls off her parka, and drops a shopping bag full of gifts on the window seat. “You kids ready for a visit from Jolly Old Saint Nick?” She strides into the kitchen, grinning widely.
“We’re more ready for Coach Remi to come with, like, piles of presents,” Jared replies. “But Mom says we can’t open them ’til tomorrow. That totally sucks!”
“Remember, Jared, Santa is still watching you.” Tara knows how to fight fire with fire. “I’m gonna make mac and cheese for an early dinner, so why don’t you three go and wash your hands?”
When the kids leave the room, Dacia makes herself comfortable at the kitchen table. “Mmmmm… it smells like gingerbread heaven here.”
“The kids made you a Dacia-cookie. Purple hair and everything,” Tara says.
“Awww, that’s cute. Did they make a hero cookie for Remi?” Dacia asks.
“They made him a coach cookie with a soccer ball. Why a hero cookie?” I ask.
“Because rumor has it that Remi went to the Dean of Students earlier this week with a well-supported complaint and got Professor Santini suspended for sexual harassment of male models who work in his class. I think he did it mostly because he was so pissed off that Santini harassed you.”
“You’re kidding me.” Maybe I didn’t invite the harassment after all—maybe Professor Santini has a real problem.
“And when word got out that Santini was messing with the models, a bunch of students came forward to say that he’d hassled them too.”
Tara steps in front of where I’m seated on the counter and points her finger in my face. “You didn’t tell me a professor was giving you a hard time.”
“What were you supposed to do about it?” I ask. “And I survived the class in one piece. The problem came when I went to his house to model for him one on one. He wouldn’t take no for an answer… about a few different things.”
“Don’t tell me he—”
“No.” I shake my head. “Professor Santini didn’t manage to get what he wanted from me—I, uh, escaped from his house.” Wearing nothing but a robe. Thankfully, Remi rescued me.
“What a complete asshole.” Tara isn’t pleased. “He deserves to lose his job.”
“From what I hear, LCC is gonna need a new life drawing professor.” Dacia doesn’t seem too disappointed. “Professor Santini’s a gifted instructor, but no matter how talented, nobody wants to take class from a predator.”
My cheeks heat beneath the cloud of emotion that settles over me. I still suffer from humiliation over what went down that day at Professor Santini’s house and fear about his threats.
I’m relieved he’s lost his position at LCC—he’ll no longer be able to lord his power over so many young men. But it’s not why I feel like I’m melting. What gets me is that Remi cares enough about what I went through to do something about it.
“Remi is a hero,” I admit.
“Are you gonna tell him that?” Dacia asks.
I really don’t know.I shrug and cover my face with my hands.
The kids are back before we know it, and I need to pull myself together. So, I turn my attention to business. “Did you scrub your hands for twenty seconds with soap?”
They nod somberly.
“Santa’s still got his eye on us,” Tommy says. “So, we gotta be real good.”
“Just until we go to bed,” Jared adds.
We sit to eat. The kids shovel macaroni in their mouths, aware that Coach Remi will be here soon.
Nobody is more aware of that than I am.
* * *