The Art Teacher IV

06) I Should've Known Better

As I walked down the path, I noticed the only lights on in the studio were the ones above Luke’s computer desk. I pushed open the door and tried my best to walk softly on the wooden planks (which proved quite the task in the white high heels I’d been instructed to wear).

I heard the wheels of his swivel chair roll as he stood up to greet me, “Eden?” his voice was accompanied by frantic clicks of his mouse.

“Yeah.” I answered and stood still as he turned around to look at me.

He opened his mouth, but didn’t say anything as his eyes traced my body, “Oh my gosh.” He said softly.

I curtseyed awkwardly, “Ready?”

“I feel like such a jerk. You’re dressed up so beautifully and I’m wearing jeans.” He pointed out.

I shrugged, “You like nice.” In all honesty, I couldn’t care less what he was wearing.

He smiled, “Thanks.” He pulled his keys from his pocket, “Did you cut your hair?” he asked as motioned for me to follow him outside.

“Yeah, I did.”

“You look good.” He looked me in the eye as he held the studio door open, “I hope I can say that and not sound like a pervert.”

“Some people just are what they are.” I joked.

“You’re evil.” He laughed at my apparent burn, “An evil, evil person.” His laughter subsided as he pulled his coat from the back of his chair and sunk his arms into the sleeves.

He paused as he felt around his pockets for his keys, “Aren’t you going to be cold?” he asked me.

I shrugged, “I sure hope not.” I flashed a confident grin of my own, “You’re holding your keys.” I reminded.

He didn’t say anything, but continued to look into my eyes.

“What?” I asked and laughed a little bit, “You’re looking at me funny.”

He shook his head and began to move awkwardly, “You just look so nice, is all. So-…”

“Grown-up?” I finished his train of thought.

He nodded, “Yeah.” He began to walk towards the door.

* * *

“Antonio’s Fish House.” Luke read the top of the menu once we were seated in a two-person booth, “It’s nice here, huh?” he continued as he opened the laminated pages.

I hated fish, but hadn’t the heart to disagree, “Yeah.” I managed to reply as I titled my head in such a way that my vision was not blocked by my newly trimmed bangs.

He was so attractive. His face was pale; however, freshly shaven, the pores on his cheeks and chin slightly engorged from where thin facial hair had textured him previously. He breathed calmly as he scanned his options, his eyelashes fluttered every so often as his shoulders fell with each breath. He wore a midnight colored button up shirt that offset his youthful visage and blonde cap of hair which was normally styled out of his eyes, but tonight looped down across his forehead.

He brought his hands to his face.

I think of all his features, I’d spent the most time looking at his hands. I was almost certain I’d be able to recognize them separate from the rest of his person. Many a time had he demonstrated an artistic concept or even gestured wildly while he spoke, showcasing his masculine, yet delicate fingers.

“I’m not buying you alcohol.” His voice pulled me from my thoughts as I met his playful gaze and broad smile, “It’s illegal.”

“That’s sort of ironic? Don’t you think?” I propped my face up on my hand, my own fingers grazing my neck as seductively as possible.

“Is your neck okay?” he looked concerned.

Seductive tactic number one had failed miserably.

I laughed instinctively, “What are you eating?” I tried to change the subject.

“I’m not really sure, it all looks so-…” he started to say as his attention returned to his menu.

I had also opened mine. My eyes widened, “So ungodly expensive!” I said, perhaps a little too loudly.

“I’ll take care of it, don’t worry.” His voice wavered slightly towards the end of his sentence.

“I’m not going to dine-and-dash.” I joked.

“The food is worth it, trust me.” He emphasized the final words of his sentence.

“You’ve never eaten here in your life, you liar.” I made a blind assumption.

His face drained of color, “What?”

I sat upright in my chair, “You haven’t? Oh my Gosh! You are a liar!” I couldn’t help but laugh at my own realization.

“I-…” he started to say, “I’m sorry.”

“Oh geeze, don’t apologize at all, Luke. I think it’s so nice that you brought me here, really.” I said as I folded my napkin in my lap.

“I’m such a fake. I’ve never done any of this right.” He threw up his hands in desperation, “I like you a lot, and you look so beautiful tonight; I just want it to be special for you.”

I felt my heart leap into my throat, “You could make me peanut butter and jelly, and it would mean the world to me.” I said truthfully, “Don’t feel like you have to spend money to impress me.”

“I’m pretty bad at PB&J.” he said meekly.

“That’s not the point.” I continued.

“What is the point?”

“Let’s get out of here. I hate fish.” I confessed.

His expression dropped, “Are you serious?”

“I don’t joke about food.” I paused, and then rose from my chair, placing my maroon cloth napkin on the decorative china salad bowl, “Come on.”

He looked around the restaurant. My actions had attracted wandering eyes of other couples and parties, bedecked in pressed suits and flowing cocktail dresses. Their whispers added to the live music, whose base line plucked steadily in the background.

“Are you sure it’s not too rude?” he seemed conflicted.

“Who cares?” I urged, “Do you want to impress me or not?”

He took a final look around the room before he pushed out his chair and neatly folded his napkin on his empty plate, “You’re sure?” he asked.

I nodded, “Trust me.”

He smiled, “Okay.”

A waitress dressed in a black and white suit and a bow tie approached us, “Is everything alright?” she asked as she balanced her tray of drinks.

Her hair was slicked back into a tight bun, and each strand gleamed unnaturally in the dim light of the dining room.

“We’ve changed our minds.” Luke said, “But thank you very much.”


* * *

“Do you want something to drink?” he asked as he closed his apartment door.

I took a seat on a leather chair close to the kitchen, “That’d be great, thanks.”

“It’s so cold in here.” I heard him say, “Do you mind if I turn on the heat?”

“Do it.” I said and crossed my bare legs and folded my arms for warmth.

The heater roared into existence and then settled quickly into a monotone hum, drowning out the silence of the empty school on a Saturday night.

“I could microwave pizza or something for you.” He was almost yelling, “I’ll even sprinkle goldfish on top of it for protein.”

I sniffed, “What a balanced meal.”

“That’s pretty much all we have here. Cold pizza and goldfish.”

“I’d love cold pizza with goldfish, if that’s what you’re having.”

“What?!” he called back, “I can’t really hear you!”

“SURE!” I decided the simpler the better.

He returned moments later with a small square piece of pizza, decorated playfully with an assortment of colored goldfish, “For you.” He said, and placed the paper plate into my lap gently, “And here.” He handed me a plastic cup with the ‘Bob the Builder’ logo on it, “I just assumed you didn’t need one of the sippy tops, but I can grab one if you have trouble with it open like that.”

My shoulders shook slightly with laughter as I smiled, “Thanks.”

He pulled an identical meal from the counter top and placed it in his own lap as he sat on the couch on the opposite side of the room, “What do you-…” he began to say, but was immediately overpowered by the heater which lurched and cranked after being dormant for so long.

I shrugged, “I can’t hear you.”

“What do you think?” he asked as he began to cut his pizza with a knife and fork.

I always felt so awkward eating in front of people; increasingly so when in the company of boys. I picked up the piece of pizza and bit into it as stray goldfish coated in red sauce toppled off the pizza slice into my lap, “Shit!” I said with my mouth full as I stood up quickly.

So did Luke, “I’ll get a sponge.” The heater returned to its comforting hum.

He disappeared once more into his kitchen. I tried in vain to remove the small stain with spit and my thumb – Erin and Sarah would not be pleased.

“Okay, more importantly, did it get on my chair?” he joked as he pushed me out of the way to scrutinize the dark maroon fabric.

I laughed and grabbed his arm, “This is important! It’s not my dress.” I tried to explain, “I have to return it.”

He squatted to my waist level, “Okay let’s see then.” I sat down and shifted to pull the stain taught with my hands.

The sauce sank through the fabric over my right thigh and made me suddenly aware of how prickly my legs must feel, “I don’t really know how to do this without making you uncomfortable.” He said as he examined the spot looking for the right angle to go about removing it.

“I’ll do it.” I decided out loud.

He handed me the sponge and sat back onto his knees, “It’s a pretty dress.” He commented.

“Thank you.” I said quietly as I started to rub at the stain with the wet sponge, its yellow particles shedding onto the dampened fabric.

“It flatters you.” He continued to say, “It’s tasteful.” His eyes lingered on me, but seemed to stare through my body.

“Okay, I give up.” I set the sponge aside, as now not only was there a stain on the dress, but also an impossible wet spot that gave the illusion I had peed myself.

Luke began to laugh silently, “But now it looks like you peed.” He smiled and brought his focus back to my eyes as though his observation had been brilliant.

His childish hypothesis made me laugh, “Thank you, Captain Obvious.”

This induced a roar of laughter, “Captain Obvious?! That’s clever! I’ve never heard that.”

“You’ve never heard ‘Captain Obvious?’” I was dumbfounded, “Or, ‘no shit, Sherlock?’”

“I don’t like that one as much.” He shrugged a little bit and then stood up, “Do you want a pair of pants or something?”

“I’ll be fine.” I wanted a pair of pants. I felt clammy and cold as the wet cloth clung to my legs.

“I know you’ll be fine, but I want you to be comfortable.” Luke said.

“Okay, pants it is then.” I agreed as I crossed my legs.

“Sit tight for a second.” He said and then opened a door to his bedroom, “I have to get my kids tomorrow.” I heard his voice say simultaneous with the opening and closing of a squeaky closet door, “You’re still welcome to stay, but things won’t be as quiet.” He cautioned as he returned with a pair of grey sweatpants, “Are these okay?” he asked, holding them up.

“Those are fine.” I answered, “And I certainly don’t want to impose.”

“You’re not imposing at all; it’s just more of a warning. The whole ambience will be different, I can assure you that much.” He handed the pants to me.

“I like your kids.” I said truthfully.

“I don’t think they know you that well.” He sat down next to me on the couch.

“I’d like to get to know them.”

He smiled and looked into my eyes, “I’m sorry I’m such a lousy date.”

I grinned, “Yeah well, as I said earlier; you are what you are, right?”

He laughed, “So you’re agreeing? I am lousy?”

I pretended to weigh heavily on the issue, “Yeah. Lousy.” I shifted slightly.

“Your mom’s lousy.” He lowered his voice to a dopey grumble.

Another smile. Another grin. Another laugh.

He leaned in close enough that I could feel his breath on my face, and without touching me with his hands, he closed his mouth gently on my bottom lip. I blindly reciprocated.

I wanted to touch him. I wanted him to touch me. But inexperience kept my hands folded in my lap. He shifted slightly and brought his hand to my calf which was folded over the stained part of my dress. His soft and strong fingers traveled up my leg and underneath the hem of Erin’s dress.

Instinct suggested I pull back at the advance, but I corrected myself and leaned forward, awkwardly draping my arms around his neck. He bunched my dress further up my leg until he reached the elastic of my underwear. I struggled to remember what color I was wearing and whether or not they were decorated with embarrassing patterns.

I made a small noise of confused and unintentional protest.

He pulled his lips from mine, “Eden?” he seemed concerned, but not enough to rewind his advance.

“No-…it’s…no nothing, I’m sorry.” I tried to speak but the words jumbled before they left my mouth.

“What, are you okay? Are you okay with this?” he removed his hand from under my dress and brought it to my face.

To be honest, I was more than okay with it, “Yes. I’m fine. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to turn you off.”

“Turn me off?” he laughed a little bit and pushed my bangs from my eyes, and without saying another word, began to kiss me again.

He used his body to pin me to the couch, supporting himself with his one knee nearest the inside of the couch and his other leg balancing his weight on the floor. I brought my hands to his chest, pressing lightly as not to imply I was trying to push him off of me.

He moved his lips to my jaw line and began a trail of kisses to my collarbone as he ran his hands down my sides and rested them on my hips.

I squirmed a little bit and opened my eyes, feeling abnormally self-conscious of my love handles under the pads of his thumbs. These concerns were soon drowned by the wave of tingling, electric pleasure each of his kisses sent through my body.

Was I a bad kisser?

He kept opening and closing his mouth softly on my flesh until he reached the edge of my dress’s red fabric. I breathed heavily. I wasn’t wearing a bra. Erin and Sarah said I didn’t have to with this dress.

Luke kissed the top of my cleavage before looking up and bringing his hands to my torso, “Do you mind?” he asked, and then reached behind my neck with one hand to unclip the halter.

I shifted quickly, “I’m not wearing a bra.” I said.

He smiled, “I know.”

I opened my mouth but I couldn’t bring myself to speak.

“I’m making you nervous.” He took his hands off my body and smoothed the buttons of his own collared shirt.

“No!” I protested and grabbed for his arms, “You’re just-…”

“You’re a virgin?” he interrupted.

I nodded.

“Well, geeze, Eden. I’m not going to try and have sex with you.” He was almost laughing as he swung his legs over mine to position himself perpendicular to my body on the opposite side of the couch.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’m not very good.” I propped myself up and fixed the back of my dress.

“I never said that!” he exclaimed, “I never even thought it; you’re wonderful.”

I raised an eyebrow.

He smiled, “Don’t look at me like that.” He laughed a little bit.

I leaned my head back and looked at the ceiling.

“‘Slow’ is fine with me, Eden.” I heard him say.

“Okay. ‘Slow’ it is, then.” I agreed reluctantly.

“Will you watch TV with me?” he asked.

“That very much depends on what you want to watch.” I shifted into a seated position.

“I have like…every season of the Simpsons ever.” He smiled as he leaned back into the cushions of his couch.

I smiled back, “Okay.”

* * *
I was so exhausted. But of course, I hadn’t done any of my work for my Monday classes. French ‘dissertations’ and Statistics problems waltzed impatiently in the back of my mind as I absently watched Homer Simpson ride a motorbike around a dome.

Luke snorted lightly at Homer’s subsequent failure and the phone rang. He sat up, “Maybe that’s my dad.” He said as he reached behind him for the phone positioned on the wall, “Hello?” he tried to sound alert.

I paused the Simpsons.

“Oh hey Kelly.” He rolled his eyes and sank in his chair.

Kelly was the head of the dormitory staff on the floor above Luke.

“I’m sorry to hear that. I’m actually a little busy right now, but-…” I could vaguely hear her digitalized voice on the other end cut him off.

“They’re not home? Okay.” He paused, “Okay, sure. I’ll do that for you.”

He turned to me and grimaced as she thanked him profusely, “Just until 11:00?” Another pause, “Okay. Of course. You’re welcome. Bye now.” He turned to place the phone back in its cradle.

He looked at me with pleading eyes.

“What? What’s going on?”

“Kelly’s daughter is sick, so I have to cover for her until 11:00.”

It was 10:10, “Girls have to come in here?”

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t really have a choice.” He insisted.

“No, it’s fine.” I bit my lip, “Can I still stay in here?”

“By all means. You can stay in my room until they leave.” He suggested.

I stretched my limbs, now clothed in Luke’s sweatshirt and pajama pants, “Later then?”

He nodded, “Can I kiss you?”

I smiled as he held my upper arm and kissed me gently. I ran my hand through my hair, tousling my bangs into cooperation and walked to his room, “Don’t wait up for me if you don’t want to.” He called as I opened the door.

“Have fun with all of the freshmen.” I grinned imagining the tedious conversation of his imminent company.

“Shut up.” He muttered under his breath as he turned on the lights and began to prepare his apartment for the swarm of hormonal girls about to enter.

“Night.” I said and closed the door behind me.

I curled into a ball on top of his comforter and stared at the clock. Moments later I heard female voices giggling and shouting behind the door, along with the occasional low rumble of Luke’s input. One sentence caught my attention, “Luke, is this your purse?” a giggle followed immediately afterward.

I froze.

“A student left it in the studio, and with all the sticky fingers on campus, I decided to bring it back up here for safe keeping.” He lied smoothly.

Of course he would have an answer. I relaxed and returned my gaze to the clocks on his dresser. The numbers seemed to switch and blink irregularly as I fell in and out of sleep until the thoughts in my head overpowered the gaiety of the other room.

I was having an affair with my teacher? I was having and affair with my teacher.

It sounded infinitely better as a statement. It wasn’t even as though our affair started with our first kiss. We had been together, inseparable for months now. Mutual feelings. Mutual.

What an odd concept. I had never been in a relationship with a guy, let alone a sexual one, with mutual feelings. I wanted someone to connect with on more than a physical level, and lo and behold…

The picture frames were discolored in the dark. The smiling faces of his boys reflected his own. Interesting…

My disintegrating thought pattern was interrupted by the soft squeak of the door. I hadn’t heard the girls leave. But as I looked at the framed photographs and listened; I heard nothing, “Luke?”

“It’s me.” His voice affirmed, “Shh, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I wasn’t sleeping.”

I watched his outline move to his closet, “Close your eyes, I’m getting changed.”

I laughed a little bit at the irony, but did as I was told.

“Do your parents know you’re here?” he asked.

“Is that a joke?” I twisted into a more comfortable position.

“I feel bad. You can’t tell them?” I heard him close his closet door.

“They’d go off the deep end, Luke.” I said truthfully.

“But my intentions are golden!” he joked a little bit.

“I can’t tell them. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s my problem, anyway.” His weight titled the bed slightly, “I have to go to church early tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

“I may not be here when you wake up.” He pulled some of the blankets towards him.

“Wake me up before you go.” I said.

“It’ll be early.” He warned.

“It’s okay.”

“Do you mind that I’m sleeping here?” he asked.

“I should be asking you that question, don’t you think?”

“You didn’t answer me.”

“I like you here.” I responded.

He was silent, “I like you here too.”

* * *

Sunday was excruciating.

I sat in the computer lab in front of a blank screen for three hours before I decided that writing a paper on Joyce’s Ulysses would not happen until after I had actually read the book.

I signed onto our school’s email host in blatant procrastination. I deleted email after email about lost cameras and sweatshirts from a recent sporting event, but paused when I read the sender name of my most recent email: Luke Heyden.

I double clicked on it and his message expanded to fit my screen.

Hi Eden,

I would like to truly apologize for my unprofessional behavior this weekend. I was out of place, out of line, and completely out of my mind. I can only hope that what I said and what I did didn’t pressure any of your actions.

You are a truly amazing girl, Eden. You’re far too good for all of the headache and heartache of these kinds of situations. As the responsible adult, I am ending this with no hard feelings.

I will be away all today, but will talk to you more tomorrow after class if necessary.

Best,
Luke.

I felt my eyes began to tear and my ears grow hot. What? What did any of that mean? I instinctively hit the reply button, but quickly x-ed out when I realized I had nothing to say. I was hopelessly speechless, enraged, and more than anything, thoroughly confused.

I logged off and abruptly stood. I wiped my eyes and stormed out of the computer lab. Ideally I would have marched up to Luke’s apartment like Sherman through Georgia; but not surprisingly, I instead sulked all the way to the boathouse by the pond hidden in the woods.

I was never exactly what you would call a ‘nature person.’ I was the girl who dreaded outdoor biology labs and canoing trips ever since I could verbally assert an opinion. However, the boathouse on the pond offered a certain serenity unattainable anywhere else on campus, and I had consequently grown to enjoy the wooden cottage-like structure that was oftentimes surrounded by a moat of mud and pond water.

Too good to be true, huh?

I sat crossed legged on the wooden planks that jetted out onto the pond as I watched the cold water ripple with unseen activity.

<i>So that’s it? You’re just going to give up?</i>

Yup.

<i>What are you going to do? Avoid Luke for the rest of the year?</i>

Sounds good.

<i>You’re not thinking rationally.</i>

Shut up! Yes I am! For the first time this weekend I am thinking rationally. I was completely overtaken by my hormones, but finally, that fog has been lifted.

<i>How about you write him a letter? Get your thoughts out a little more healthfully?<i>

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

Okay.

* * *
I furiously scribbled on a lined sheet of paper and avoided the blank stares of other girls climbing and descending the library stairs as the afternoon slowly gave way to the dark of evening outside the oversized windows.

I picked up my hand to massage my bruised middle finger that appeared permanently indented from where I desperately clutched my pen.

I reread my letter.

<i>Luke –</i>

Good. To the point.

<i>I am confused by the contradiction of your actions, my feelings, and your hurtful email.</i>

Can you contradict three things?

<i>I’m unsure as to what prompted your extremely polar actions and my subsequent hormonal reactions, but I know how I feel and I don’t feel what you’re doing to me is at all how this should end.</i>

I stumbled over my words and gave the rest of the letter a cursory glance: hopelessly incoherent right up until the signature.

I scratched my head and exhaled as I folded the inky paper into thirds and wrote Luke’s name in script on the front.

In a sort of highway-hypnosis, I ended up at Luke’s apartment door, letter in hand. I reopened it: as if I had the intention to change anything I had written. I shook my head, refolded it and squatted to push it under the crack in his door.

“Dad, I’m not tired!!” I heard a small voice exclaim as footsteps padded up the stairwell around the corner.

“Grandpa let us stay up til ten!” Another voice added to the argument.

“Do I look like your Grandpa?” Luke challenged playfully as he rounded the corner, one child on his hip and the other two parading in front of him.

“Who are you?” the eldest one asked as he tilted his head to the side and smiled.

I made desperate eye contact with Luke, “I-…” I opened my mouth and stood up slowly.

“This is my friend, Edie.” He said quickly.

His answered satisfied both of his older sons as they bounced past me to open the door. Luke met me in the threshold, “Did you-?” he started to say.

“Yes.” I interrupted.

He looked down at his feet as he shifted his son’s weight onto the opposite hip. His child looked at me with wide eyes.

“What’s that?” he asked as he gestured to my letter.

“Oh, this?” I lifted up the letter and shrugged halfheartedly, “It’s nothing.”

He squinted, “Can you come in for a second?”

“Do you mind?” I rubbed my elbows nervously.

“Of course not.” He answered and pushed the door open for me.

I followed him in, “Have a seat, I just have to take care of some business with baby here, okay?”

“Yeah.” I said, but he was already out of earshot. I hesitantly perched on the edge of the leather couch I had lounged in so comfortably only the night before.

“Dad can we have a snack?” A voice asked from the only room in the apartment I hadn’t been in.

“We’ll eat dinner in ten minutes, can you wait til then?” Luke’s voice was firm.

An exasperated groan came from the little boy who dragged himself in to the family room in a helpless display of hunger as he crumpled to the ground in front of me, “But I’m so hungry!” he complained.

“Peter, listen to me.” Luke reappeared with his youngest son on his hip, “Will you please get off the floor?”

His son obeyed and plopped himself on the couch next to me, “Want to see something really cool?” he asked me, having miraculously recovered from his overbearing hunger.

“Sure!” I said gladly.

“CHRISTIAN!” he screamed and another, smaller boy hopped into the living room.

“Watch!” he tapped my knee lightly to hold my attention and then turned so he and his brother were back to back.

He locked arms with Christian and then proceeded to flip the younger boy over his head and onto the floor.

I jumped off the couch the second Christian’s feet left the ground; however, Luke remained motionless as though these acrobatics were nothing out of the ordinary. They both safely dismounted and stood with beaming grins in my direction.

“You two nearly scared me to death.” I said, “That was so cool!”

“I can teach you.” Peter said and took my hand eagerly.

“I don’t know, I’m a little bigger than your brother…”

“You can do it with my Dad.” He motioned for Luke to participate.

“Oh, I don’t know Peter. I think I’m a little too hungry to learn something new.” Luke expertly side-stepped his child’s unknowingly inappropriate request, “Can you and your brother set the table while I make macaroni?”

“Can Eden help too?” Peter pulled my hand towards the kitchen.

“That wouldn’t be very polite; Eden’s our guest.” Luke reasoned.

“Please?” Peter looked up and smiled eagerly into my eyes.

“I’d love to help.” I said sincerely.

“Yes! That’s good because I can’t reach the cups…” Peter signaled to his brother who had preoccupied himself with lego pieces that had been previously scattered in the corner of the room, “Christian, come on!”

“Can I talk to my friend Eden for one second, boys?” Luke set down his smallest son, “Go ahead Ellie, help your brothers.”

Elliot teetered and tottered into the kitchen behind his siblings, “Wait!” his small voice crackled as the three of them bustled into the next room excitedly.

I turned to Luke, “They’re sweet.”

He smiled, “Will you sit with me for a minute?” he asked and gestured to the couch.

“I hope you understand why I-…” he started to say.

“No, I don’t. I’m sorry Luke, but I don’t understand.” I felt the anger unraveling inside my throat, “You can’t feel me up and then pencil me in for a fifteen minute conference after class. It doesn’t work that way, “I paused, “I don’t work that way.”

“I see you’re upset.” He leaned back, “I’m trying my best to do what’s right. This is my responsibility.”

“I like you so much.” I said.

“You shouldn’t.” he shook his head, “I’m not that great.”

I felt the tears beginning to well in my eyes, “I know I shouldn’t. Do you think I want this? Do you think that I want to sneak around with my teacher?”

“Of course not, I-…”

“No, I need this. I need you.” I heard myself being honest and immediately closed my mouth.

“Eden, I’m flattered.” He said after a few moments, “But you have to ignore those feelings. You just have to. This is my job. This is my house. This is my life, hell, my children’s lives. You’re splendid, Eden. You’re beautiful, intelligent, and talented. I want to be there for you, and I want to have you, but pragmatically, I just can’t. Okay? It hurts me so much, but I-…” He bit his lip and swallowed before looking to the opposite side of the room, “I can’t.”

“So what do you want me to do then? Avoid you? Stop making art and steer clear of you and your family? Do you realize the position you’re putting me in?” I retorted.

He didn’t say anything. He was crying, “I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

I all of a sudden realized how heavily I was breathing when the room grew quiet. I stood up and made my way to the door.

I left in silence.