Lindsay murmured words of sympathy and consolation as his body shook in her embrace. She smoothed his hair with one hand and rubbed at his back with the other. His knees gave and they both lowered to the floor, their arms still wrapped around each other. She sat there, his head in her lap, and cooed to him as if he were a child crying from a skinned knee. She didn’t look on him with pity; she didn’t think less of him for crying. In fact, as they sat on the cold kitchen floor and she watched him lose all composure, her heart swelled with something she’d never thought she’d get to feel; love. She really loved him, this man she hardly knew, this man who two days ago was just a teacher.
And then, it was like a pinprick. This man is crying over his wife leaving him. This man looks at me like a student, not a lover. This man is just having a very hard time in his life right now, and it could be anyone sitting here with him. This man, this beautiful man, will never love me. I am just a child to him. Lindsay couldn’t help it; she began to cry, too.
Mr. Smith looked up at her, then. The tears were still shimmering in his eyes, but a look of concern had replaced the one of despair. “Lindsay, what’s wrong?”
“It’s nothing. I-I’m sorry.”
“No, what is it?” He got up on his knees and took her hands in his.
“It’s just– I-I just feel so bad for you is all.” Lindsay tried hard to stop the tears.
“Oh Lindsay, please don’t cry. Please, it’s okay, really. Please don’t cry for me. I’m just glad you’re here, I’m sorry I lost it.”
“No, it’s not that. It’s okay for you to cry, you have every right to. Look, let’s just get up from here and I’ll help you get your house in order.” Lindsay wiped her eyes and stood up. “You can’t help but be depressed in this mess…no offense.”
“None taken. And actually, you’re probably right.”
And so they got to work. Mr. Smith changed into a white t-shirt and regular blue jeans. Lindsay thought it funny that he did, in fact, own clothes that weren’t black. He also got Lindsay some of his sweats to put on and then took the trash out while she loaded the dishwasher and began sorting his laundry. He stood in the doorway and chatted with her about her favorite pieces in the museum and the last play she had seen. She told him about the latest book she was reading and he told her about a song he was writing. Lindsay told him she loved to sing, but she never got picked for solos in choir. He told her that if she wanted, he would listen to her sing something and give her an honest opinion on her voice. She also told him about her writing.
“I noticed you writing in class, in that black notebook. Think I could read some of that?”
Lindsay’s face flushed. “Oh, uh…I don’t think you’d like any of that.”
“You might be surprised.” He winked at her. Lindsay shook her head and looked away from him. What does he mean by that? She wondered.
Eventually, she had sorted out his entire house. While the third load of clothes was washing, the sun began to set. By the time all the laundry was finished, it was dark. Lindsay and Mr. Smith had spent the whole time talking, comparing favorite authors and musicians, chatting about art and religion and politics not as teacher and student, but as old friends. Right in the middle of discussing his opinion on the current dealings in Congress, his stomach growled.
“Hey Lindsay, would you be willing to stay for dinner? I was going to get some Chinese.”
“Sure, that’d be great. Are you sure you want me to stay?”
“Well yea, otherwise I wouldn’t be asking.”
“Okay, well I should probably call home again.”
“You know where the phone is. Just hurry, I’m starving.”
Lindsay went back into the kitchen and dialed home for the second time today. Her mother answered this time. “Hi Mom, it’s me.”
“Hey Lindsay, how’s the studying going?”
“Oh it’s going really great. We’re actually working on a project for biology. I was calling to see if it was okay if I stayed for dinner. This project is due on Monday, so we really need some crunch time.”
“Well sure, honey, that’s fine with me. If you need to, and it’s alright with your friend’s parents, you have my permission to stay the night.”
Lindsay smiled suddenly at the thought of that. “Thanks, Mom. I’m not sure if we’re going to need that much time.”
“Well if I don’t hear from you I’ll just assume that’s what your doing.”
“Okay.”
“And honey?”
“Yes, Mom?”
“Honey I…I’m glad you’ve made a friend.”
“Me too, Mom, me too. I’ll talk to you later, and thanks.”
“Okay honey, have fun.”
They ordered way too much food from the best place in town. He suggested to Lindsay that if she wanted to, she could freshen up in his bathroom while they waited. She went in and brushed her hair, washed her face, and put her freshly laundered clothes back on. She took a good long look at herself in the mirror, then finally shrugged and returned to the kitchen.
Mr. Smith had set the table in her absence. The food had arrived, and he had laid out two beautiful settings, with wine glasses and ivory chopsticks. Lindsay was dazzled.
“I thought we could have a nice dinner together. I haven’t used any of this in months.”
Lindsay smiled and looked into his eyes. “Sure, this looks beautiful.”
“Do you know how to use chopsticks?”
“I sure do. My father taught me. He was stationed in Japan when he was in the army…I guess you didn’t need to know all that.”
Mr. Smith laughed. “That’s okay. I think that’s pretty cool. I don’t know many teenagers in this country who can use them. What would you like to drink? I’m going to have wine, myself, but I have soda if you want.”
“I don’t really drink, but the wine sounds lovely. I’m still a bit chilly from the rain. Plus, I’d hate for you to drink alone.”
“I was hoping you’d say that,” he said with a smile.
Everything was delicious, especially the wine. Lindsay found herself pleasantly lightheaded after her second glass. The conversation was flowing just as much as the alcohol, and eventually the topic of conversation turned to relationships. Mr. Smith found it impossible to believe that Lindsay had never had a boyfriend.
“It’s not so impossible, Mr. Smith.”
“Lindsay, could you please call me Rick? I hate the whole ‘Mr. Smith’ thing. A girl like you never having a boyfriend…you’re pulling my leg.”
“No, it’s true…Rick. All the guys my age just don’t like me.”
“They’re probably intimidated by you.”
“Ha! Yea, right.”
“No really. You’re smart, beautiful, and mature. Guys your age don’t appreciate all of that. I know I didn’t when I was a teenager.”
He thinks I’m beautiful! Lindsay thought to herself, and felt herself blushing. She looked down at her empty wineglass and said, “I’m not beautiful. Most people think I’m fat.”
Rick filled her wineglass and took her hand. “Lindsay, look at me.” She studied him, so beautiful in the candlelight, his eyes, with an inscrutable look, searched hers. “Lindsay…you are by no means fat,” he began. “You have a very developed body compared to any of the other girls in your class. And I’m sure they pick on you because they feel inferior to you.”
His hand feels so nice, Lindsay thought. She took a long swallow of wine, never taking her eyes off him. She emptied her wineglass for a third time.
“Like the wine?” He said with a smile and squeezed her hand.
“Yes, it was lovely.”
“I’m glad you liked it,” he replied. Rick was just sitting, stroking her fingers with his thumb as if he’d done it a thousand times before. He was still looking directly at her, the smile fading from his lips. “I want to read your black notebook.”
Lindsay was caught off-guard by his comment. “Why do you want to read it so badly?”
“I just do.”
The wine gave Lindsay more courage than she thought, because she found herself getting up and grabbing her bag. She came back to the table with it and intended to give him the notebook, but after a thorough search she found, to her horror, that the notebook was missing. She thought back to the last time she’d seen it today, and recalled the letter she had been writing when the bell rang. She tried hard to remember putting it in her bag and found herself getting frantic. She looked up from her bag to find Rick holding her black notebook in his hands. “Oh…my God.”
“You were in such a hurry to leave class today. You left this inside your desk. I watched you writing in it today, and you seemed so wrapped up in it…I just wanted to see what could hold your attention that well.”
“You…you READ IT?” Lindsay didn’t mean to shout, but she was so embarrassed that she couldn’t help it. She was wishing desperately for the floor to swallow her.
“Yes, I read it. I…am so very sorry. I picked it up on the way to my car and got so involved with it that I sat and read it. And when I looked up, you were standing right there. At first I thought you had seen me with it and had come to get it back, but then you had just looked so sad…are you angry with me?”
“No. No, I’m not angry. I just wish there was a rock I could crawl under right now.”
“Why, Lindsay? The things you wrote…they were beautiful. You shouldn’t be ashamed of them.”
“But you were never meant to read them! No one was. They were just my private thoughts. And I am ashamed. You are just my teacher…I barely know you, you’d never want…I mean…God, I want to die.”
“Never want what, Lindsay?”
Her eyes began to tear. “Me! You’d never want me. You’re so beautiful and smart and charming and me…I’m just…me. You’re so out of my league it isn’t funny, and I’m just a kid to you, anyway. Oh, God!” Lindsay collapsed into her chair and began to cry.
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