Of Faint Lines and Phone Calls

It was the Tuesday before school let out. I was sitting in meetings all morning. We started in Canyon's lovely "Cafe-tor-nasium" where most of the plays we do are produced. I couldn't tell you what we were supposed to be doing in those meetings. I do know that I presented to the faculty on behalf of our group without knowing what I was saying (memories of every class I took in high school). I was in a group with Joe Svobobadeebop for the first time ever. My phone rang for the second time in an hour and for the second time it was Tori calling. I said something to Joe like, "Why does she keep calling me? She knows I'm in meetings all morning." Or something more clever than that. As I said it, the thought crossed my mind, "It's probably something important." If you know me, you know that although I was behaving on the outside like I was totally confident, on the inside, I was panicking a little. Within seconds, the text came through, "Call me when you're done with your meetings. :)" I was put at ease. If it was important, it could wait. But it was good news. I didn't need to worry.

Later, while sitting in another meeting, my phone rang again. "I said to the teacher sitting next to me, "I should take this. It's the third time my wife has called me." To which, Kathy Flanagan, the teacher sitting next to me and the woman with the loudest voice on campus said, "Maybe she's pregnant!" Coincidentally, I was thinking the same thing. I gave Kathy my "How'd you do that?" look and went out the door to answer the phone.

Outside of a computer arts classroom, during a meeting on a Tuesday morning, with only teachers and the random kids who show up early to a late start day, I found out that my beautiful wife was pregnant. When you have a moment in life like that, you expect the setting to be as momentous as the news. I was in the middle of what felt like a ghost town. I wanted to jump up and down and run around screaming, but there were just enough people on campus that I might have drawn some unwanted attention. Long story short: it was awkward. How is one supposed to react? I wanted to shout it from the mountain-tops! I wanted to call my mother right then and tell her she would be a grandmother (again). I wanted to call my friends from back home and let them know. But I couldn't. So I settled for contained excitement and what must have been the strangest looking facial expression ever. Like a combination of having just received the greatest news of my life, trying not to look anyone in the eye, and "I know something you don't know", and my patented "poker face". (Fifteen people just fell out of their chairs laughing) See, people think that, because I acted when I was younger, that I should be good at being dishonest in real life. It does not work that way. I am the worst liar, poker player, Clue player, and secret keeper you will ever meet. Everything shows on my face.

I walked back into the classroom with, what I thought was, the most neutral expression I possess on my face. Sort of like, "Hey, everybody. What's been goin' on while I was out there handlin' by bi'ness? You know what I'm sayin'?" Didn't work. Kathy looked at me and said, "Well...?" And the look on my face must have changed for a split second from "Just keep it cool, my babies" to "Oh my god! Tori's pregnant and I really want to say something but I can't!" All I know is, suddenly, Kathy Flanagan-Egan, the woman with the worst verbal-impulse-control problem on campus, knew my secret. "Dammit! I've been a dad for 2 minutes and I already screwed everything up!" I quickly told Kathy not to tell anyone, which is like telling a leaky faucet not to drip. Later I was standing next to a friend at work talking about nothing in particular and Kathy walked by. She had this crazy smile on her face and said, "I can't keep it in!"

So, now I had to go to the person who I would be the most disappointed if Kathy told, and tell them myself. My friend, Joe. I also knew that he would be the first person Kathy would tell. I had to cut her off at the pass. Don't you love that 30 minutes into fatherhood, or embryo-hood, I was playing cloak and dagger? ("Oh well. What do I care? I'm going to be a daddy!") I told Joe, and that problem was solved. The next problem was letting Tori know that they knew. "Sorry, honey. You know how we didn't want to tell anyone until we were ready? Well, apparently my face wasn't on board with that agreement." Tori handled it well. Surprisingly well. Now, if I could just go the rest of the day without blowing it any more. I think I did pretty well, if I do say so myself.

The closest call was when I had about thirty seconds to myself and my mind drifted to how excited I was about fatherhood. How excited I was to see Tori as a mother. For us to be our own family. To hold my kid in my arms. To watch them grow up. And my damn face betrayed me again! One of my favorite students, Kyle, walked up to me. It was one of those things where my eyes were all out of focus and I couldn't get them to come back. He did that really annoying thing that people do when that happens, and he waved his hand in front of my face. (Why do people do that? Can't you see that I am so relaxed and lost in thought that my eyes have gone out of focus? Why are you trying to ruin my day?) Then he said, "What's wrong with you? You have the weirdest look on your face." I was standing in the middle of my classroom with a huge smile on my face, staring at nothing in particular. I must have looked like a maniac. ("Oh well. What do I care? I'm going to be a daddy!") "Nothing," I said. I quickly walked up to my desk in the back of my room and got engrossed in some sort of important work stuff...like a crossword puzzle.

I made it through the day, and got home. When I went in the bathroom, I found five positive pregnancy tests waiting for me (apparently Tori was thrown off by how faint the second line was on the first test, so she took three more and then went to the store and got a digital test). It was like Tori was leaving a note for me, "You're going to be a daddy! There's no doubt about it!" That was where it first felt real. I mean really real. And I was alone again. But this time I could jump around and scream. I wonder what the neighbors thought was happening? ("Oh well. What do I care? I'm going to be a daddy!")