Chapter 32 – [March 30, 2002]
When Jordan and her entourage arrived in Washington D.C. on Saturday morning, she was exhausted. Although the clock said it was almost 8am as they had collected their checked luggage, the teenage girl’s body felt like it was 2am.
When they were still in the terminal, she and Mrs. Johns had peeled away from Mr. Johns and gone into the bathroom for a pit stop. Although Jordan went into a stall and sat down, she was far too scared and embarrassed to remove her GoodNite for fear of being heard or seen. Besides, she didn’t know how she could dispose of it without being noticed in the bathroom after it was off – the stall had only a little tiny bin attached to the wall for the smallest of feminine care items, not a full blown baby diaper disposal center.
Having started her period in earnest also complicated things. She also didn’t know how she could even attach a menstrual pad to just her bare volleyball shorts had she been left only wearing those without the GoodNite. Reluctantly, she had carefully changed her pad and put the soiled disposable pant back on for several more hours.
This can’t turn out well, Jordan thought standing up to exit the stall.
Just a short while after picking up their bags off the claim turnstile, the trio pulled into their hotel entryway in a cab. 16 hours would have gone by before Jordan was able to change out of her soiled garment, get a shower, and slip into fresh clothing.
The rest of the Saturday and that evening, Jordan and her teachers had laid low in their downtown hotel at the pool and had walked around near the Washington Mall checking out some of the sights that could be seen nearby on foot.
Sunday was the primary day for which they had come.
Unfortunately for Jordan, because it was only the three of them, she was forced to share a room for supervision sake (although she did get her own queen bed to herself). As she and her mom had strategized (and unbeknownst to her, the Johns gave plenty of space to accommodate), Jordan snuck a diaper and extra volleyball shorts into the bathroom to change before bed.
The small downtown hotel room didn’t have a large bathroom and there clearly wasn’t enough room to lie down. What am I gonna do?! She fretted to herself with the door locked and the fan running.
Thinking on her feet, Jordan pulled off her jeans from the afternoon sightseeing as well as her panties. She then unwrapped her diaper carefully. The nervous but focused girl stretched it between her legs and tried to pull it tightly around one leg but she just couldn’t figure out where to tape it and be sure to have it centered.
An idea that seemed ingenious to her at the time then struck. What if I hold the diaper up against my butt by holding it between me and the door? You’re so smart! She praised herself.
Ensuring the door was locked and tightly closed once again, this time she pinned the diaper between her rear end and the door, centering it on her body. She then pulled it up between her legs without applying her usual rash cream (for fear of the odor) and proceeded to snugly tape it into place. Doing it this way appeared to produce a more secure fit than even doing it lying down.
This might come in handy some other time! She thought.
Her volleyball shorts followed the diaper and then her fleece pajama pants and t-shirt top. As she paced back and forth in the bathroom, she certainly couldn’t hear its rustle over the din of the fan; but with the light and fan turned off and the girl walking out the door, the quiet crinkle was without a doubt present if a person was listening for it.
I sure hope they are not paying attention to me. She thought.
[March 31, 2002]
As far as she could tell, the teacher couple was none the wiser and no comments or questions were ever made.
The next day, Jordan had been given the tour of the WAMU NPR facility on the north side of the city after eating a nice breakfast at the hotel’s restaurant. The program manager for NPR gave the seventh-grader a trophy for her award and a golden cd framed in a plaque that contained the recording of her story. Jordan had thought it was cool but also felt somehow unimpressed by the effort. Next, she had finally been given the chance to meet the actress Natalie Portman (who had turned out to be disappointingly boring and quiet) for lunch. The whole visit had taken no more than 2 hours and Jordan couldn’t help but feel a little ripped off.
That’s it? That’s what I get for being a big shot finalist?! She had thought as they left the fancy restaurant. It had been the first time in her life where she had had the undeniable experience of feeling used for someone else’s marketing scheme.
Who’s really the winner here? She had wondered to herself.
[April Fools Day, 2002]
By Sunday night, however, things grew a little concerning for the seventh-grade-author. As had happened back in mid-January, Jordan felt a tinge of pain when she peed before bed, but she felt too embarrassed to tell Mrs. Johns and certainly too shrewd to tell her mother on the phone (who would’ve almost certainly turned around and told Mrs. Johns herself).
Monday morning, Jordan’s diaper was (no surprise) wet, but she didn’t feel normal. At all. When she changed into her daytime clothes and tried to pee, all that came out were little driblets – and it stung! It was at that point that she knew she was getting a similar illness or infection to that which had landed her in the hospital earlier that year.
Sitting on the toilet Monday morning, her heart sank and her blood ran cold. It must’ve been all that time I spent in my GoodNite during the flight. I should’ve never worn it that long. But what was I supposed to do? I didn’t have a change! The girl scolded herself.
Coming up with the probable cause didn’t help Jordan’s lack of interest in asking for assistance since in her mind, wearing around wet diapers seemed to be the cause of all UTIs. (For a girl of thirteen, sexual education had been minimal having been raised in an evangelical parochial school. The primary lesson had been: don’t touch boys until you’re married or else you’ll get pregnant. Her mom had filled in a few details, but certainly not enough for her to know much about the care and keeping of a female urethra or the variety of ways that it can contract an infection.) So even the worsening symptoms of her impending UTI kept Jordan far too embarrassed to bring anything up with Mrs. Johns, let alone Mr. Johns!
Jordan’s plan that Monday, as the three were supposed to go to the Smithsonian museum of American History and some other sights on the National Mall, was to use some of the home remedies her mother had tried before in January: drinking lots of water and trying to find cranberry juice if she could find it.
Of course, a seventh-grader willingly downing a half a liter of straight cranberry juice at lunch like it is nothing seemed more than a little suspicious to Mrs. Johns. When she asked Jordan about it on a bathroom trip in the American History Museum, the girl had quickly dismissed it as nothing.
“Oh I like cranberry juice A LOT. It’s my favorite.” Jordan had smiled.
I’m sure it is young lady. I’m sure it is. Mrs. Johns had thought.
Jordan’s symptoms worsened throughout the day despite her efforts and she found herself (as before) with increasing frequency and borderline urgency. By the end of the day, she was having a difficult time passing urine once she got to the toilet and she was beginning to feel the familiar sense of nausea and general “ickiness” she remembered from before. As she got ready for bed that Monday night, both of the Johns’ couldn’t help but notice her sluggish behavior and lack of pep. She hadn’t hardly talked since dinner and seemed overly quiet and serious.
“Are you sure you’re ok sweetie?” Mrs. Johns asked as Jordan crawled into bed diaper clad (but not noticeably to the second grade teacher who was actually looking for it).
“Yeah Jordan, you don’t look so good.” Mr. Johns chimed in, trying to be supportive.
“Oh me?” The girl tried to sound chipper and sat up in bed on her elbows. She had just tried to pee in the bathroom once more and couldn’t hardly any out but a few burning, stinging, drops. She was beginning to feel chills. “Yeah I feel fine. Just tired is all.” She faked a yawn and smiled. “Thanks again for such a great day and such a great trip Mr. and Mrs. Johns. It’s been really fun.”
“Yeah. Sure Jordan. Of course.” Mr. Johns said seeing right through her feigned health charade.
Shortly after, both Adrian and Tyler found themselves crammed into the small hotel bathroom strategizing in agonizingly soft whispers.
“She’s got a UTI Tyler I’m sure of it. And if we don’t get her seen or treated, it’s gonna get worse. It’s possible that it already has.” Adrian sounded serious.
“But we don’t know dear and she keeps insisting that she’s fine. I mean, she talked to her mom…what? Three times today? It seems like if she was really suffering from something, she would’ve at least mentioned it to her and if Sally was genuinely worried, she would’ve called us immediately about it.” Tyler reasoned in hushed tones.
“I’m just not so sure. This girl’s a smart one. And she’d probably do just about anything to make sure her favorite teacher doesn’t find out she wears diapers – even if that means risking a bad infection by not asking for help.” Adrian’s logic made sense as well.
“Hmmm. You’re probably right. But I still just don’t feel right about cutting past her privacy like that and insisting that we take her in after she keeps insisting that she’s fine. What if we wait until morning and then ask her to call her mom if she seems noticeably worse? I mean, she’s obviously not on death’s door or anything right this moment.”
Adrian thought for a moment before she agreed. She’s not fooling anyone.
[April 3, 2002]
After another day of similar behavior but obviously deteriorating physical conditions while touring other sights in the Washington D.C. area, Jordan’s illness was only getting worse.
On Wednesday morning, the thirteen-year-old author demonstrated, by her physical state, that she clearly had not been fooling anyone the days prior. Just as she had been back in January, Jordan was sluggish, sweaty, hot, and a little delirious. Mrs. Johns could tell that she was not at all her normal self and at 8am, she still hadn’t budged a muscle from her spot in bed (which was unusual given that the girl had been up before 6 presumably changing her diaper in the bathroom the other mornings of their trip).
Attempting to rouse her to assess her condition more fully, Mrs. Johns spoke Jordan’s name in increasing volume increments, eventually shaking the bed a little.
“Jordan are you alright dear? Are you awake? Do you know where you are!?”
All that came out of the seventh-grader was a stream of incoherent mumbles and moans.
This girl is in rough shape! We should’ve acted sooner. I feel like such an idiot! I can’t believe we didn’t call Sally last night or yesterday afternoon. This could’ve been prevented. Mrs. Johns felt ashamed.
“Tyler? You need to get her mother on the phone right now. We’re going to the hospital.”
That announcement got his attention and he poked his head out of the bathroom door from where he had been putting the finishing touches on his outfit for the day.
“Wait. What? Hospital? Are you sure Adrian? Isn’t that a little hasty?” He asked taking a step back into the hotel room.
“Tyler. Just listen to me. She’s got a bad infection and a fever. It could even spread in her body if we don’t get her seen. She needs to get on antibiotics and she might need an IV. This is becoming serious ok? We need to get going now. And we need to call her mom.” She sounded intense and looked straight at him in hushed whispers.
Mrs. Johns dialed while Mr. Johns tried to rouse the bleary girl from her bacteria induced stupor.
“Mr. Reynolds? I’m sorry it’s so early. This is Adrian Johns. We have a bit of a situation here…”
Sally was surprisingly calm. She absorbed the information Mrs. Johns gave her and quickly came to the identical conclusion. “You’re right Mrs. Johns, she needs to get to the hospital. This isn’t the first time this has happened.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. Back in January she had what sounds like the same thing. It’s a byproduct of wearing wet diapers, keeping clean, etc. You understand….So have you been able to wake her? Are you heading out yet?”
Mrs. Johns had almost been in a trance, thinking for the first time about the myriad of health implications the diapers and bedwetting must bring into the poor girl’s life. “Oh yes, absolutely. We were planning on going to the hospital or some kind of clinic right away. We don’t have a rental car and we’ve been taking cabs everywhere; I hope we don’t’ end up having to call an ambulance.”
Sally thought of her financial situation, “Well I can imagine if she’s as zoned out as she was before, a cab might be a challenge. But if you can pull it off, my bank account would appreciate it. We are still on Ted’s insurance though so we’ll survive if you have to call.”
“Ok Mrs. Reynolds, I will call you when I have an update. You have my cell.”
“Thanks Mrs. Johns….and sorry about this.”
“Oh you don’t worry about a thing Mrs. Reynolds, your daughter is a diamond in the rough. It’s been our pleasure. We’re happy to look after her.” She replied.
In the meantime, Mr. Johns had self-consciously done his best to revive Jordan from her delirium to no avail. Her only response had been a curious (but concerning) request for more cheese on her spaghetti.
“Jordan you’re really sick and we need to get you to a doctor.” He pleaded again shaking her shoulder as Mrs. Johns walked back into the room.
“Tyler! You don’t have her up yet?”
He looked up at his wife, bewildered and overly conscious of his middle-aged maleness and his student’s thirteen-year-old girl-ness. “She’s totally out of it Adrian. She can’t even sit up.”
Glaring at him in annoyance, she walked past him to the girl’s bedside. “JORDAN! You need to get up! You’re sick! You need to get up! JORDAN!” She spoke very loudly, almost yelling, and shook the thirteen-year-old by the shoulders.
Jordan felt hot to the touch and damp. She didn’t respond with much more than mumbles. The decisive teacher thrust the cell phone at her husband, “Call a cab Tyler. OK?”
Tyler quickly did as instructed while Adrian barked additional orders for a glass of water and Jordan’s shoes and jacket. As the English teacher rummaged through his student’s stuff, inevitably coming across the stack of purple adult diapers.
Wow! She wears those? Brave thing! Don’t they make pull-ups for teens or something? He thought as he snatched her jacket from the bag. She’s gonna know we know now – and she’s gonna be embarrassed. This’ll be hard. He frowned.
When he got back to the bedside, Adrian had Jordan siting up and she looked a little more awake.
“Do you know where you are Jordan? Do you hurt? Are you in pain?” his wife was asking.
The tall, adult-sized teenager was gently nodding.
Both teachers could smell the strong scent of urine. It was obvious that she was wet and that something was wrong with her pee. Adrian leaned over and looked back behind her and saw the primary source of the odor entering the air: the bed and clothing were soaking wet.
“Jordan you’re all wet dear. We need to get you into some dry clothes before we go to the hospital ok? I’m gonna help you.”
Without hesitation, Adrian wrapped her arm around the girls back and under her armpit and lifted. “Can you stand up Jordan?” very slowly, the thirteen-year-old obeyed, too feverish to be embarrassed. The two shuffled toward the bathroom and toilet. Tyler, horribly self conscious and uncomfortable with what was happening in front of him, gazed down at the floor and remained in place standing by the bed.
“Tyler! I need help here. Will you just relax with the teacher-student accusation fear routine? This is a medical necessity. She’s really sick and she needs both of our help. I need a fresh set of clothes for her now too please.”
Without saying anything, he responded in action – back at her suitcase randomly picking out what seemed like an outfit. He then waited nervously outside the bathroom door with his eyes carefully averted form the scene for the next round of instructions.
Inside the bathroom, Adrian had quickly peeled off the girl’s shirt and wiped her down with a damp cloth and then to thrown a t-shirt over her head. The second grade teacher had then pulled at the waistband of Jordan’s soaked pajama pants as well as the tight polyester shorts underneath removing both at once. The odor was strong.
When Adrian had removed Jordan’s diaper, she could see in the pad tinges of brown and red, which she assumed to be the vestiges of Jordan’s period although she wondered if it could be blood in her urine. Almost like an infant, dribbles of urine started running down the girl’s bare legs and onto the tiled floor. Adrian gently pushed her back onto the toilet stool. As had been the case over the previous couple of days (and not fully known but suspected by Mrs. Johns), Jordan produced virtually nothing sitting on the toilet. But what did come out included ribbons of red.
“Get Mrs. Reynolds on the phone again Tyler!” she yelled from the bathroom, feeling a little more frantic. When the teacher got her up again, the wetness simply appeared to continue in tiny bits down her legs. Jordan was almost completely unable (or unwilling) to help.
Once on the phone with the girl’s mother, Tyler stood outside the bathroom door discretely conveying information back and forth between she and his wife. The instructions she was giving were to put Jordan in another diaper; that this was quite normal; and that she needed to get to the Emergency Room as soon as possible, even if they had to take an ambulance.
Before he knew it, Adrian was hobbling the ailing and partially naked girl back out of the bathroom and laying her back on the bed. “Gimme a diaper Tyler.”
A wet spot was already forming under the girl’s butt and Tyler already had the garment in hand, passing it to his wife while still awkwardly keeping his eyes aimed away, back toward the hotel room door. The job was done in just a few seconds despite Mrs. Johns’ lack of experience and discomfort. After working Jordan into a clean set of pajama pants, socks, shoes, and her jacket, they were off.
Twelve hours later, the trio found themselves set up in a hospital room. Other than getting admitted for the night (and of course the absence of the extra-creepy-friendly Medical Assistant at the front desk), it had pretty much gone identically to the previous visit in January (complete with rudeness from the nursing staff, antibiotics, pain relievers, and an IV line.)
When Jordan finally began to “come to” after her fever had subsided and the effects of the first bout of medication had worn off, she started to realize some of what must’ve happened that morning at the hotel room. She started feeling around in her bed without opening her eyes and between her legs she quickly appreciated tubing unlike that which she had experienced on her previous hospital visit.
Well apparently I’m not wearing my diaper anymore; and I know I had one on last night. So they probably know everything now… Her heart sunk, not knowing the full extent of what would’ve been her absolute mortification if she’d been conscious.
What am I gonna say to Mr. Johns? What’s he gonna say to me? This is gonna be so awkward!
“Good evening sweetie.” Mrs. Johns said noticing Jordan’s eyes opening. She and her husband both had been sitting in the room all day, just out of Jordan’s sight up behind her right shoulder in the corner.
“Yeah good evening – how’re you feeling?” Mr. Johns chimed in.
“…um…well…uh…ok…I guess…I’m here…in the hospital.” She gave an awkward smile and raised her eyebrows as if to say, you got me!
“Well you look a lot better Jordan. I’ll tell you that. When we left the hotel, you were totally out of it. We were really worried Jordan,” Mrs. Johns said, then trying to think of a way to cover for Sally, “…when we found you had,…um…wet the bed…we called your mom to ask her what to do. We had been concerned with how often you had been going to the bathroom and you seemed like you were feeling sick, but you kept saying you were ok…so up until we found you this morning so sick and lethargic, we hadn’t pushed anything.”
Jordan felt embarrassed but also somehow relieved that she hadn’t been forced to be conscious through that revelation. She started to think about how much she respected Mr. Johns and how he knowing about how actually UN-grown up she really was would change the way he thought of her. Her feelings straddling two worlds came all the more into focus as she lie in her hospital bed, having arrived in a diaper, now with a catheter and wires running in and out of her, and in the company of her English teacher who had just helped her win a writing competition!
A solitary tear streamed down her cheek and her chin began to quiver.
“Oh Jordan, there’s no need to cry sweetie.” Mrs. Johns said as she noticed the girl’s distress.
No sooner did the words leave Mrs. Johns mouth than did the feelings of self-pity build up in the seventh-grader’s heart. She began to sob; and then she looked pitiful.
Mr. Johns spoke up as his wife had scooted her chair closer to the bed and began stroking Jordan’s arm, “Jordan, I want you to know that you’re the most remarkable student I’ve ever taught in so many ways. And the fact that you’ve suffered from this medical condition that I can imagine might be really embarrassing for a lot of kids makes me respect you all the more.”
Jordan sniffed and looked up a little at her teacher who was now looking down at her from the bedside.
“Really Jordan, I mean it. Most kids with this struggle (and there are a lot of them you do know that right?) just clam up and never talk to anyone and do terrible in school and sink back into a corner. You’ve become a star despite it. And really, your writing is really amazing. You could go somewhere with it girl. Don’t get down on yourself.” He spoke honestly and from his heart.
“Really?” she quietly asked through snot and tears. “So you’re saying you don’t think less of me? You don’t think I’m like some sort of…of…bab—” her own crying cut her off once again.
“Oh Jordan honey,” now Mr. Johns couldn’t help but place his hand on Jordan’s arm next to his wife’s as he squatted down to her bed level, “absolutely not. You’re an impressive and mature young woman who happens to have a medical problem and who happens to deal with it discretely in very mature ways.”
Jordan couldn’t help but think to herself, but if you only knew the full truth of it Mr. Johns, you wouldn’t be saying that. You wouldn’t. You wouldn’t think I was a hero or some courageous conqueror of life’s challenges – you’d think I was a freak.
She nodded meekly and her crying slowed.
“So what did my mom tell you – about the…d…d…diap…ers…?”
Mrs. Johns jumped in sounding cheery but not terribly over-eager, “Oh, well, she just said on the phone that you have been struggling with keeping your bed dry at night and that you’ve been using those…pads…as a precaution. She said she thought they may have caused an infection like this back in January as well. She said to take you here.”
“So it’s the same thing as before then?” Jordan asked, not surprised but curious to confirm, as she now glanced around the room seeing the IV drip bag leading to her arm, the heavy cotton knit blanket, and the window out which she could see nothing but blue sky. She could still feel the catheter line leading from her bladder snaking under her leg and down the side of the bed.
“Yes. Well, the doctor decided to admit you because you were so lethargic and because we aren’t your parents. He wanted to make sure you had adequate care. What he’s told us so far is that you have a bladder infection; but he’s been on the phone with your parents quite a bit.”
“Oh.” Jordan said. “So are you guys gonna go back to the hotel tonight or what? Isn’t it kinda late?”
“Well, we were just talking about that. Would you like for one of us to stay? The hospital says they could wheel in a cot into the room or they have a guest room down the hall one or both of us could crash in.” Mr. Johns volunteered.
Jordan thought for a minute. She hadn’t talked with her mom in what seemed like an eternity and she felt a little scared in the hospital all by herself – especially the thought of staying overnight. The only other time it had ever happened was for her sleep study, but that was a different experience altogether.
“Hmm,” she said, “yeah, maybe I would like some company.”
In the end, they decided to talk the hospital staff into letting them both stay – and rotate between the guest room and the cot in Jordan’s room. Shortly after their conversation, Jordan had talked with her mother on the hospital phone, which had been helpful. Sally reminded her that her teachers meant the very best for her and that they wouldn’t spill the beans. She also scolded her for not taking good hygienic care of her perineal area. Jordan didn’t have the energy to argue or defend herself. Rather, she meekly agreed. Had her mother been within touching distance, she would have meekly fallen into her arms and sobbed.
Shockingly, Jordan’s Dad had called the emotionally raw teen as well that Wednesday night. To add to her shock, he apologized in the most wholehearted way she could recall him ever doing for missing the ‘goodbye’ at the airport. She really couldn’t help but think that he sounded genuinely broken up about it and although she didn’t feel much of an inclination to give him grace or forgiveness, it was a surprising change. She wondered what, if anything, might have been behind it.
Around 10:30pm, Mr. Johns cracked the door and made his way to the cot in the corner of the room, a couple feet from Jordan’s hospital bed. Unsure if she was still awake, he tried to be quiet as he tiptoed to the makeshift bed.
“Oh hi, is that you Mr. Johns?” she asked quietly, still sounding rather weathered.
“Hmm? Yep. It’s me Jordan. Just thought I’d come to keep you company for a while. Is that ok?” He had been sure to keep the hospital door open, still paranoid about any kind of accusation of impropriety between teacher and student.
“Yeah, that’d be fine Mr. Johns.” She laid back flat with her head on her pillow.
“How’re you feeling? Any better?”
“Yeah quite a bit better actually. Still tired though.”
“Yeah, I’m not surprised to hear that; but I’m glad to hear you’re feeling better. I bet by morning you’ll be ready to get out of here.” He paused, looking over at her from his sitting position on the cot. “So did you talk to your Mom at all?”
“Yep. And my Dad called me too which was kinda—” she caught herself, not wanting to drag her teacher into the family drama.
He sensed the slipup and obviously knew about what had been going on in her home so he decided to ask. “Jordan, how’re you doing – like, with all that’s been happening – at home? I’m sure it’s been hard…right?”
Jordan thought for a minute, not really knowing how or what to say. “Well, um, it’s…in a way it’s better now…”
“Oh? Mr. Johns asked trying to get her to open up.”
“I don’t know Mr. Johns, you probably don’t wanna hear about this…”
“No its fine dear. Try me.” He smiled.
“Well. It’s just that my parents really were not getting along at all…and it was hard having to listen to them you know?…Having a break from that has just been a little peaceful you know?”
He nodded. And then, thinking for a moment himself, he decided to level with Jordan a little bit. Offer her some quid pro quo for what she had done against her will earlier that morning.
“Jordan, do you remember back in the middle of November that one day at school when I was so upset and I kinda acted a little weird? I think it was around the time when you were finishing your story.”
The girl in bed remembered the day well. In fact remembered at least one incident following it when she had asked him about what was going on in his life and he had flatly dismissed her concern as something exclusively of importance in ‘the adult world’.
“Yeah…” she said nervously, not entirely sure if she wanted to hear what he had to say either.
“Well, I thought maybe you deserve to know why I was so upset. And since you kinda had to tell me about…your medical issue…against your will, I figured maybe it’s fair that I share with you something from my life.”
What the hell? The thirteen-year-old wasn’t accustomed to being spoken to in such an adult-like manner. This is weird.
“Ok?” she said, raising her eyebrow.
I hope this is a good idea. Mr. Johns thought to himself. Here goes.
“Well, I’m on the board of Hope Seattle, your Dad’s company.”
Oh shit, what are they doing together? He’s on Dad’s side too? I should’ve known. Jordan thought.
“When they asked me to be on it back when I got hired at BCS, I was really flattered because I was a pretty young teacher and I certainly didn’t have much money or political clout in the city. But they wanted someone from the school and because I really believed in the mission of the center, I said ‘yes’.”
Ok, ok, ok. Get to the point will ya? She thought now genuinely curious.
“Uh huh.” Was all she said.
“So last fall when everyone heard about your Dad’s relationship with Melissa and after he moved into her apartment—”
“Wait. Everyone knows about it? And that’s HER apartment?!” Jordan’s mind was spinning.
“Sorry Jordan, but yes. Everyone knows. And yes, that apartment in Belltown is Melissa’s. I’m sure it isn’t easy to hear about it from the outside. I’m sorry. But this isn’t really what I’m trying to tell you…”
“Ok well what is it then?” She asked, thinking, well get to the fucking point!
“Anyways, when all that came out, I was really offended and concerned by it – as were many people.” He looked Jordan in the eyes to let this sink in. “When a Dad does something like that to any of my students, it makes me angry. I know how you need your Dad to show up for you – to notice you – to see you for who you are and to celebrate you as beautiful and talented.”
Jordan’s eyes began to fog up with tears and she felt a lump form in her throat.
“Your Dad wasn’t giving that to you. I could see it from a million miles away. I mean, it’s not like we were really close or anything but I could tell that he was following his own… selfish…” (Mr. Johns thought about using the word ‘cock’ here, but it didn’t seem entirely becoming in front of his seventh grade student) “…lust. Look at you, you’re amazing Jordan. Smart and talented and tall and beautiful and he’s missing it chasing that woman who’s broken up more marriages than you can shake a stick at! I was furious!”
She didn’t know what to say.
“So as a board member, I decided to put out a motion to have your Dad removed as CEO of Hope.”
A flood of shock moved across Jordan’s face.
“I didn’t do it out of retaliation or anything. I just thought it was crap that he could do that to you and his family, while at the same time stand in that position of authority of a Christian organization that takes so much money from Church donors. Their whole mission is supposed to be about promoting what Jesus is all about – and abandoning your family so you can go chase the latest hot chick isn’t that! So I put up a motion at the board meeting and that’s when it got bad for both of us.”
Jordan’s eyes were still wide – and now red with tears.
“Your Dad was obviously upset with me. But quickly most of the board came to agree with my position and it was clear that in the December board meeting, the vote was gonna go my way. He was gonna lose his job. That’s why he kept talking about moving to New York permanently with Melissa. He thought he was gonna be ‘done’ at Hope Seattle within a couple weeks. But that’s when it got really strange.”
He paused for a moment and wiped his nose and eyes.
“There’s another person on the board who is very powerful in the community. I’m not going to tell you who it is because it just isn’t prudent for you to know. Anyways, he is also on the school board at BCS and he’s a big donor to the school as well. He came to me in private one day and he threatened me that if I allowed the board vote to go forward against your dad, he would be sure to that Mrs. Johns and I would lose our own jobs at BCS by the end of the year.”
Jordan furrowed her brow and said, “Well…that’s…that’s…that’s wrong!!”
“It is…but it happens sometimes. Even in the church. It’s called politics.” He looked at her seriously and paused. “So I was in a difficult situation all winter long and I kept delaying the vote because I didn’t know what I should do. I felt so stressed by this whole thing Jordan. The more I got to know you and the better you were doing in school, the more angry I became at your Dad and what he was doing and the more I wanted him to lose his job – especially after he apparently got that school board member to blackmail me into swaying the vote. But at the same time, I know that I love my job at the school and I don’t want to leave it you know? I felt like if I just gave up and used my influence to get the board to let your Dad stay, I would be selling out.”
“I can’t believe my Dad could be capable of something like that! It makes him sound like he’s just plain evil.” Jordan shook her head and felt even more in shock. “But I guess I never would’ve guessed that he would’ve had an affair and moved out either!”
Mr. Johns nodded solemnly.
“So what did you do?” she asked.
“Well, just before we left on this trip, I decided to sway the vote – to let your Dad keep his job.”
“WHAT? Mr. Johns! Why? What the hell?” Her anger was furious and swift and much beyond anything the teacher had expected.
“Whoa! Whoa! Jordan. Hold on girl. I just told you. It was an incredibly painful decision.”
“But…you just said…why would you…”
“Jordan. Listen honey. The world isn’t always as simple as we might like it to be. We always have to make difficult decisions in life. In the end, I decided that I could do more good if I kept my job than if I made sure that one jerk lost his.”
Whatever! She thought. I should’ve known you had something else going on underneath that neat little smile. I knew you were somehow on Dad’s side.
Her disgust was obvious and leaking through her eyes, cheeks, and teeth.
“Jordan I’m sorry maybe you feel let down by my decision. I’m sorry if you feel a little less trust in me – it’s fair.”
“You’re right I do.” Jordan began, not knowing where her speech would take her. “You just told me all about how angry you were at my Dad for all the ways he hurt me and my mom and my family. And then you had the chance to make him pay – at the moment he was smiling through his teeth acting like everything was A-OK – at the moment when you were acting like everything was ok with me! You had the chance to make justice happen for me. And then you just let him slip. Just like everyone else! How else am I supposed to feel? I’m supposed to just believe that you’re on my side because you say so?”
“Jordan – I’m sorry but it was an impossible situation for everyone. I would’ve been FIRED in order to get your Dad fired. Revenge is a terrible thing. It bites everyone. I felt horrible about myself to keep my job and let it go but how is it fair to me that I have to get fired in order to do the right thing? Maybe people need grace sometimes too Jordan? Maybe grace changes them.”
Although his arguments might’ve seemed reasonable in the messy realities of the real world, they seemed thin to the girl who had been traumatized so dreadfully. She lay back in her hospital bed in shock, frozen, unable to speak. Rather than producing a tighter relationship between the teacher and adolescent student, Mr. Johns’ risky self-revelation appeared to actually create a divide.
Well that didn’t go the way I had hoped, he thought.
Why the hell did he even tell me that? She thought.