How It Could Have Been Different
	She watches him from across the room. She doesn't want to make the first move, fearing that he will think her too assertive and improper. But what could be proper about it? He was the teacher and she was the student. There wouldn't be anything proper about it, especially when you factor in how he is twice her age. No matter, the facts did not affect the power of the one fact that held her eyes to his figure. It held the hope that there would be something magnificient to experience when he would decide that she would be let in, into his world and his arms. The thought was arresting and so was the feeling every time he looked her in the eyes. Her body froze and a feeling of delight crept over her rigid body. The instant he looked away, the feeling faded and she was left with a longing for him to look again. Perhaps, for him to see her, to know her was what she really wanted. Yet all she could think of was the animal in herself taking over and taking him right there and then, not caring that there were people present, not caring that he was lecturing at the moment.           After the lecture, with everyone filing out to quickly get back to their important social lives (or whatever it is they do after class which is so important to rush to... ), she packs away her belongings slowly. Perhaps, if luck would have it, there will not be too many students with questions to occupy his attention. "I am selfish; I want his attention in full, "she thought. She trots down the steps toward the center of the lecture hall where he is, answering questions. "He is so hansom. I don't think I have ever met anyone as -- "           "Yes?"           "Oh. I am having trouble with that paper due Wednesday. Can I just pick any topic? How closely must it be related to political science?"           "It does have to be related to political science. What were you thinking about writing about?"            "I planned writing about abortion but I am unsure of my stand on it. I thought my first idea was right until I tested it out and found that someone became very upset with my idea."            He then described the different types of abortion in graphic detail. She found this stomach-turning and decided not to write on the subject.            "Okay, well. If you need any help, just email me."            She did not know whether or not he was flirting or serious. There was that girl again, patiently waiting to talk to him. She would be so pretty if it weren't for all that make-up she wore. She decided she didn't like her. The potentially pretty girl was nice but she always staid to talk to him.                                                       *        *          *             I wanted my grade. I thought that I would do "okay" on the test even though I had not kept up with the chapter readings. I read maybe half of them. I waited and waited by his office. Where was he? These are his office hours. Why is the building locked? I don't understand. I wait longer. Maybe he'll show. Next to the time I decide that I have waited long enough, he shows with a student at his side. Luckily, it is not that girl but a boy with acne eating away at his face like a horrid disease. I stared at them as they walked over.           "Hi! I wanted to get my test grade, " I say.            "Oh, really? Well, then we'll get that. I hope you don't mind me getting something out of my car first, " he says. He walks over and unlocks the door to the building.            The boy waits outside while the teacher holds open the door. I oblige myself and go in before him. The door closes. The building is surprisingly empty and dull. A partition offends my vision to the right. It is a dull, depressing gray to match the rest of the building, its floors, its walls, and its furniture. I bling out of la-la-land and walk out into the middle of the room, not knowing where I am going.           "They haven't given me a proper office yet. It's all kind of out in the open." He walks over to a gray desk and pulls out a key, opening the top drawer. "I am not sure where your test is. You might want to take a look."            I walk over and look through the pile of scantrons with names and answers. He is watching me flip through them. The light glazes through the seams between the horizontal blinds. It feels like suspended time. I find the scantron with my name scrawled in the margin and hold it up as a trophy. I realize in a delay that he is looking at me and that I am seeing deeper into his eyes than perhaps I had ever wanted to. I glimpsed pain and decided involuntarily on a nervous smile and looked away. Later I would feel ashamed and frustrated with myself for having looked away from the soul-bearing eyes of such a hansom, intelligent man. I should have punched myself. What a fool... But now, we shall remember the title of this bit of writing. "How It Could Have Been Different." Let us change the past now.            "Why do you look at me like that?"            "Like what?"            "Like that?"            He takes the scantron from my hand with a gentle pull but with sharp words. "I don't know what you're talking about."             "Of course. I'm sorry, " I say and turn away and walk out int othe middle of the gray, depressing room. There weren't many desks. How many people us this? There is a lot of space but not enough privacy or furniture. I stare around the room.             He makes his way for the door but stops. He turns slowly. "I do know, " he says as if it were the only truth he knew. I look at him looking at me. It is fascinating to watch such an internal struggle. Could he move? Was the feeling arresting for him as well? He moved towards me. Perhaps he is more deserving of courage. He hugs me with force, scantron still in his hand. How could such a force feel so delicate? I relax in his arms. The feeling is arresting. I think he feels it too. The softness of his arms beneath the professional fabric of his dress. I cannot imagine a better moment as he buries his face in my hair and kisses my ear. "This is how life is supposed to feel, " I think, "No, not with the pain but the acceptance. And the freedom."