In Class – Sarah

I don’t understand how he still makes me feel like this.

When he walks in the room I feel like my stomach becomes tangled in knots. My breath falls short, and my skin tingles as if an electric current has been run through my entire body. I hope none of the other students in my class notice me like this. I do my best to remain calm, participate normally, and perform the way a student would in this situation. But sometimes, I am afraid that a mere glance, and a simple mention of my name would catch me off guard.

Sir Michael, on the other hand, performs superbly.

He is professional, but casual. He plays no favorites and shows absolutely no sign of a connection to me. Even the other students would have no clue to our relationship. In class he is all about the topic. Throughout my years as a student I have never seen a teacher or a professor handle Science like this. He has a masterful grasp of the subject. Today the lesson was about the effects of gravity on different things. We reviewed the speed and the correct measurement of gravity, we talked about how weight and mass is different and that gravity affects all things and that it even has on effect on the seas, the tides, and how even the moon. He brings no books or notes to class. Sometimes he would use the video projector to show us slides or images of the lesson, but he never, for once, read from a textbook or his own papers to discuss the current topic. He does all this from memory, from the top of his head. That is another reason probably why I fell so deeply for him. He has an intellect that is above anything I have ever seen. But he wields it so skillfully, so casually, that it seems so easy to learn from him. My classmates all agree, he makes our lessons interesting and fun, that we all have a good time every time we are in class.

I sit at the rightmost rear corner inside the classroom. Facing the window, I get a good view of the early evening sky, the rolling hills of the campus, and the long stretch of road beyond. It is bustling already by this time. Lights from billboards, stores, and restaurants paint a bright picture of the scene. Cars would zip through traffic, or stay stuck when caught by the rush hour. As a dutiful student, I would scribble notes or highlight phrases on my book as Sir Michael discusses in front of the class. Sometimes, I would even raise my hand to ask a question or answer one of the computations on the board. He would casually attend to me as he would any student. At times, it takes everything I have not to try to brush his hand or linger with a look. Being in the same room with him is intoxicating. But I manage to handle myself and act naturally.

The bell rings and Sir Michael ends the class. The students all rush to stand to pack up their things and head home. The Physics class was the last class for the day on the schedule. As usual, Sir Michael would clean up the board and wait until each and every student was out of the room, including myself, before he leaves. I pass by him and attempt a small glance. He catches my eye and gives a warm smile. My body tingles at the sweet sight. We all walk out, he closes the lights and shuts the door behind him, then he heads back to the faculty room.

It takes maybe 15 minutes for me to get to my car from the Science building. I walk past some friends and wave goodbye. My car was parked at its usual spot below a huge mango tree in the parking lot. My little subcompact has been a good companion this past few years in university. It was my mom’s old car and she generously lets me use it now. I click on my keys and a soft beep sounds to open the locks. And there I see it, our sign, our symbol, an old rose on my windshield. My breath stops for a moment and a huge smile creased my face.

He wants to see me.

We cannot communicate by phone, by social media, or by email. He would not be so casual as to allow that to happen. We do not talk privately anywhere in the campus. But this was one thing he proposed when he wanted us to meet. He would leave a small, old rose in the top of the windshield of my car. I never caught him actually passing by to leave it, sometimes I stay at a distance to see how he leaves it there or when. But I never spot him. Mysteriously it appears. But the reason could not be more clear as the daylight. He wishes to see me. We were going to meet.

Excitedly, I pick up the rose and put it in my bag. Starting my engines, I start the quick trip home and start thinking about the night that was ahead of me. It’s easy enough to tell my parents that I have a late night ahead due to studies or club activities. Dance club does have plenty of late night rehearsals these days, it would not be too uncommon for me to use that as a reason. But it didn’t matter. The traffic didn’t matter. Having two tests tomorrow didn’t matter. What was important was that in a few hours’ time, I would be in his arms. I would be with him. I didn’t realize that I was almost at my house, I parked the car and rushed to my room to change and prepare my things. I may be in my house, but soon, I will be in a place that I now call home, home with him.