69. Cohen

So many people wanted to attend the board of trustees meeting, they held it in the courtyard. The group of six old men and the headmaster sat along a table positioned at the top of the stairs like they wanted to physically remind us who was in charge.

But I think Ollie and I and the thousand people behind us had shown them differently. Even Audrey was here with her new husband, in support of the cause. This was bigger than Birdie and me. It was about love.

I kept that in mind as they finished opening the meeting and Mr. Davis handed me a microphone.

My breath sounded over the speakers, and I pulled the mic away to inhale deeply. I'd practiced what to say, but now it was time.

I held the mic closer to my mouth, and in the other hand, I held the sheet of paper that included my speech.

"Esteemed members of the board, I come to you today as a father. When my wife and I were considering where to send our child to school, we had a few requirements. The school needed a good student to teacher ratio. The academics had to give him any opportunity he desired. And he needed to be taught by those truly dedicated to bettering students' lives in every aspect.

"My son had one request. That the playground be epic."

A chuckle rang through the crowd, and I used the chance to take another steadying breath.

"Of course, we decided on Emerson Academy. I drove my son up to the building on his first day of school, walked him into the classroom, and he quickly felt at home. For the last ten years, he's learned more math than I could ever hope to know, has read more books than I've read my entire life, and dreamed bigger than I was ever told to dream.

"He's also grown as a man. He's gone from making friends on the playground to deciding which kind of person he'd like to date and which he doesn't. He's learned about self-respect and consent."

I paused, my hands shaking on the page.

"Lately, he's learned about rules, and specifically that not all rules are fairly created or applied." I looked toward the row of men sitting atop the stairs for a long moment. They needed to understand they hadn't just affected mine and Birdie's lives, but they were showing thousands of people what they thought was right.

"In the Emerson Academy handbook, it says the first purpose of the school is to serve the students. Above your head, engraved in stone, it says ‘Ad Meliora.' My son recently informed me that means ‘toward better things.'

"I want you to think about what your actions and bylaws say to your students. That a woman cannot both love a man and care for a child and perform a job. That two consenting adults cannot have both a career and a relationship. That a person cannot decide who to love."

A cheer roared through the crowd.

When they quieted, I said, "Birdie Melrose loves her students and this school. And I hope you'll give her the opportunity to love me too."