Parent-Teacher Confrontation

Christie Stevens pressed the doorbell. When the door opened, two women stood together in the frame—Dee's guarded eyes flicking over her, London's smile open and curious. Something in Christie's face slipped for a second, then snapped back into a thin smile. "Hello. You must be Christie," London said. "And you’re Dee and London," Christie answered, polite, a little flustered. London gestured them inside. Christie perched on the edge of the couch; the wives settled opposite, shoulder to shoulder, watching. Christie cleared her throat. She was glad they’d agreed to meet, glad she could get to know her student's parents. She added, voice smaller, that she also wanted to see their… situation up close. They tilted their heads. She pressed on—the girl's grades were dropping, the household wasn't what she called traditional. Dee asked, wary, what traditional meant to her. "Well… two mothers," Christie said. London laughed, soft but disbelieving. "We’re just married." Christie gave a stiff smile, offered that it couldn’t count as regular. Dee snorted. Christie faltered, trying to backtrack, assuring them she was only looking after their daughter. Dee's face hardened. "Us people?" she mocked, but sadness edged her voice. Christie swore she had no attitude, only concern. The room felt hotter. She rushed to start over. The wives nodded once, unreadable. She admitted she'd never actually taught a gay family before. London asked if she'd ever really known one. Christie shifted, muttered something about what’s natural. Dee’s anger flared. Christie shot upright, voice too loud, insisting women belong with men. Dee caught the tremor in it. "Oh my god," Dee said, eyes narrowing, delighted and sharp. "You’re into women, aren’t you?" Christie’s denial cracked into a shriek. London’s smile turned tender: sometimes fear looked like hate. Dee offered to show her there was nothing to fear. Christie stuttered. Dee leaned in, captured her mouth, the kiss quickening until Christie’s hands lifted, uncertain, then desperate. London slid close and the three of them met—heat, breath, tongues—until Christie stopped pretending she wasn’t hungry for the lesson.