Connor My Dear Boy (FINISHED)

4

Haytham got up at his usual time the next morning. In fact, the only difference from his usual morning routine was the fact that he left a note for Connor on the refrigerator door, and a copy of the note on the front door, in case he didn't see the first one.

He took his car and drove to the school. He taught his classes. He told Ezio that he had lunch detention again. He went to lunch at the usual time, and discussed various students with his coworkers. In fact, there was no real major change in Haytham's day until the end of lunch, in the teacher's lounge. The other teachers had left, making sure they were prepared for the rest of the day. The only other teacher at the table was a personal friend of Haytham's, a man whom he had known before he even met Ziio.

"Is something wrong, Haytham?" Charles Lee asked, concern in his eyes.

Haytham frowned. "What?"

"You seem... Distracted." Charles said.

Haytham paused, considering. "Do you remember... Ziio?"

Charles's frown deepened, his eyebrows drawing together. "Yes. Why do you ask?"

"She's dead." Haytham said hollowly.

"Oh. Oh," Charles's eyes widened. "I'm-"

"And social services have given me custody of our son." Haytham concluded.

Charles stared, his eyes as wide as saucers. "Did-"

"No, I did not know about him." Haytham sighed, "Connor's at home now. I figured it would be best if he got settled in for a little while, before he starts to come here."

Haytham, honestly, wasn't surprised that he hadn't known about Connor until recently. He would have gladly payed child support, even visited the boy when ever possible, but he knew Ziio; she would not have accepted his help, even if he had shoved the money into her hands. He was also willing to bet that, as a single, working mother, they hadn't been too well off. The thought made Haytham's insides squirm guiltily, even though he knew very well that there was nothing he could have done for them.

"You... Left him alone?" Charles asked doubtfully.

Haytham hesitated, getting Charles's point. "I should call him." he admitted.

Without another word, Haytham stood, gathered his things and headed back to his classroom, leaving Charles alone. He picked up the classroom phone and carefully dialed his home phone number, holding it up to his cheek as it began to rang.

And rang.

And rang.

Just as Haytham was about to give up, someone picked up the receiver and he heard Connor's voice say, "Hello?"

"Connor, it's me." Haytham said.

"Okay." Connor said.

There was a pause.

"I wanted to check up on you." Haytham said.

"Okay." Connor said again, "I'm fine. I went outside for a bit." He added.

At that moment, a couple of his students trickled into the room, the fairer haired of the two complaining loudly about how he didn't know why his friend insisted on dragging him in there "two whole minutes before class started."

"I'll be home in a while." Haytham promised.

"Okay." Connor said yet again.

More students were beginning to head inside, plopping down on their respective assigned seats.

"I'll see you later." Haytham said.

"Goodbye." Connor said.

"Goodbye." Haytham echoed.

Haytham set the phone down with a sigh. Several of his students were smirking and muttering to one another about a girlfriend.

"That," said Haytham shortly, feeling like he offered some sort of explanation to his students. "Was my son."

The muttering ceased, and several of the students exchanged glances with one another and stared at their teacher with raise eyebrows, as this was the first time that Haytham had spoke about his personal life in class, other than at the beginning of the year when he mentioned that he visited his father and sister in England over the summer.

"No, if you will pull out your books and the passage commentaries you were to write for homework last night, we will get started." Haytham said, snapping back to the usual demeanor he used especially for teaching, as his students groaned and grumbled around the room.