Page 26 of Sending Love Letters to Animals

“Roy?”

“My husband.”

“Oh,” I said. “Yeah. Cool.”

“What are you doing here so late? Does your wife keep you on a strict diet, too?”

I laughed. Obviously, he was joking. Also, I thought Mr. Melvin knew I was gay. Most of the teachers did. It wasn’t exactly a secret at A.M. Whitemane. In fact, most of the LGBTQIA students were out, even if they didn’t talk about it all of the time. Regardless, I gave Mr. Melvin credit for remembering my name and recognizing me on sight. I’d never even had a single class with him.

“Well, I’d have a husband, too,” I said. “I mean, I guess. Or however they identify? But no. I’m still playing the field before I settle down, sir.”

“Wise choice,” he said as he ripped open the snack cake wrapper. “No matter how much you love them and they love you, once you turn forty, they turn on you. Suddenly every dinner involves something called quinoa.”

“Sounds horrible.”

“I guess it’s better than them not caring enough to worry about your health, right?” He suggested.

Mr. Melvin pulled one of the cakes from the wrapper, “saluted” me with it, then took an impressive bite. He groaned and smiled as he chewed and savored the blindingly white, sugary cake.

“So?” He asked, finally. “What’s up? Did you need help?”

“I thought you needed help?” I asked. “Uh, Ms. Tabatabai—”

“Oh!” He exclaimed. “Yes! She told me you volunteered to help with the recital. Our resident Broadway expert.”

Volunteered?

“Yes, sir.” I didn’t see any point in laying out the difference between volunteering and coercion. “She told me in English to find you after school?”

“Okay, so what I was thinking,” Mr. Melvin began walking away mid-sentence, so I had no choice but to follow, “was to get you to make a list of Broadway songs that are inoffensive so I can avoid the ire of Administration and any parents looking for a reason to attend a School Board meeting.”

Mr. Melvin was leading us out of the cafeteria and back in the direction of his classroom at the front of the school. I followed along, listening to him as he munched on his snack and rambled.

“Songs free of sexual or violent themes—and for God’s sake, nothing about religion.”

“Okay?”

“I plan to let would-be Bernadettes and Patinkins audition with any song of their choosing, but we should have a list of preapproved songs that they can choose from for the actual recital, yeah?”

“Makes sense, sure.”

“Who doesn’t want to watch some high school kids bumble their way through songs from Spring Awakening—because who doesn’t want to watch the Evangelicals clutch their pearls—but I don’t want to deal with the fallout, you smellin’ what I’m cookin’?”

“I’m picking up what you’re putting down, sir, yeah.” I laughed.

Mr. Melvin was absolutely ridiculous. But unlike the other teachers who did their best to be cool as to ingratiate themselves with students, Mr. Melvin knew he wasn’t hip. The man understood irony, and he was secure in himself. His coolness was his ability to be uncool and fully aware of that fact while not caring at all.

“Good,” he said as we sauntered down the main hallway side by side. “Maybe songs that are recognizable, but for God’s sake, don’t bring me the sheet music for The Lion King. I will beat you with my shoe—I’m not even kidding. I will literally take my shoe off and beat the hell out of you while screeching like a banshee about how you ruined my show in front of the rest of the school. I will scratch your eyes out. I will go Bette Davis and Joan Crawford feud level crazy on your ass. Pick songs the students will be excited to perform, and the parents won’t raise a stink over.”

God, I loved Mr. Melvin. He was absolutely ridiculous.

“Okay.”

“Now, I have the auditorium reserved for auditions on Thursday,” he said as we approached his classroom. “I’d like you to sit in on them with me and help me decide which auditions are the best.”

“This Thursday?” I gasped. “Isn’t that kind of—”

“No, no. Don’t be silly,” Mr. Melvin said incredulously. “The Thursday after next. Could you imagine? This Thursday? We’re hardly prepared for that.”