MENTOR ME, PROFESSOR

by Sylvia Fox

  Friday arrived, and despite my best efforts to avoid it, Alexa dragged me to the SAE house.

  Her high school classmate, Trevor, was there with his rugby buddies, including Graham. I’d managed to spend almost two months on campus without attending any sort of social gathering, so I felt completely out of place among mostly upperclassmen and pretty people.

  There was a slight chill in the air, so I wore jeans and a Moultrie hoodie. I knew some of the girls must be absolutely shivering in the barely-there skirts and flimsy tops they wore.

  Guys circled like sharks.

  The rugby guys I met were total douchebags. White-rimmed sunglasses, way too much Axe body spray, and obnoxious as hell. And that was before they started drinking.

  I drank three beers and started feeling buzzed. I’d never been much of a drinker in high school, but my parents often served wine at dinner. I could discern reds from whites and I knew exactly how I’d feel after the second, or rare third, glass of wine.

  Alexa was sucking face with Graham, so I sort of drifted to the periphery of the assemblage and wandered off unnoticed.

  My walk back to the dorms took me past the political science building, and as I turned the corner to cut across its parking lot, two men emerged from the back.

  The light directly over the door illuminated the pair clearly – Dr. John Hardwicke and a younger man, a grad student or TA, I guessed.

  I’d thought about John the previous night. And I mean thought about him. Alexa was over at Graham’s place, and I took advantage of having the place to myself to relieve some stress. My thoughts wandered, as they often did, to that incredible dream. Try as I might, I’d never duplicated that climax, but not for lack of trying.

  My face flushed with embarrassment, I dropped my head and bee lined for the safety of the row of hedges on the edge of the parking lot. Once I made it there, I knew he wouldn’t be able to see me.

  “Josephine! Josephine Faulkner!”

  I was only steps away.

  It was John’s unmistakable voice, warm syrup drizzled over gravel.

  I turned, and he was striding across the parking lot with his colleague. “I thought that was you!”

  I walked toward him, his proximity making me twitch deep inside. Despite his age, he still had a thick shock of mostly dark hair, just graying at the temples. More gray was sprinkled all over his head and flecks showed up in his close-cropped beard.

  “Hello, Dr. Hardwicke,” I replied, smiling awkwardly.

  He stopped and rolled his eyes. “John,” he corrected me. “Unless you’re in my class.”

  He laughed and held his arms wide. I fell into his embrace, inhaling that same aftershave he always smelled like. At. 6’2, he towered over my 5’4 frame, and his powerful arms felt so good around me.

  “This is Josephine Faulkner. She’s a first-year. Her father and I were roommates all through our time as Moultrie men,” he explained to the other man. “Josephine, this is Aaron Rooney, he’s my TA this semester. He worked on the governor’s last re-election campaign.”

  I was suitably impressed, and shook his hand, trying to avoid John’s gaze, which made me feel small and vulnerable.

  “How’s Moultrie treating you, Josephine?” John asked me.

  “It’s tough, way tougher than high school. But I’m loving it. Any chance you can talk the administration into installing an elevator in Hale Hall?”

  John laughed, and Aaron chimed in. “I stayed in Jenkins my freshman year. On the fifth floor. Pure hell.”

  “I’m sure on a Friday night you aren’t heading to or from the library, young lady. It’s not safe to walk alone in the dark, as much as I wish it could be,” John advised.

  “I was with some friends at a party, I’m going home, I’m nearly there,” I replied.

  “Aaron will escort you the rest of the way. I would, but these days it’s not safe for any faculty member to be alone with a student of the opposite sex, even one he’s known since she was in diapers.”

  I tried to protest, but he wasn’t hearing any of it.

  We hugged goodbye and Aaron walked me home. He made small talk, and I was impressed by his resume and academic achievements, but he wasn’t at all my type. He especially suffered in comparison to Dr. Hardwicke, who I could still smell as I bounded up the stairs.

  With Alexa gone, and the beer relaxing me, I set about relieving my stress, knowing I had a long Saturday in the library ahead of me.

  Chapter Three

  Two Months Later

  “Jo, bring me back a spoon, okay?”

  Alexa and I were at our regular Sunday hangout, brunch at Spuds ‘n More, our one splurge after a week of dining hall food.

  As I returned from getting myself a bowl of melon chunks and a spoon for Alexa, I spotted him. Moultrie wasn’t as big as State U, but it was large enough that I hadn’t crossed paths with Dr. Hardwicke (John) since bumping into him that night after I left the SAE party. My parents had come to visit, and taken me and Alexa out to dinner, but John had been out of town that weekend, much to my father’s chagrin.

  I crossed the crowded restaurant and debated whether I should say hello or if it would be an unwelcome intrusion. He had the Sunday New York Times scattered all over his table and he was working his way through a plate of french toast. He wore a dark brown cable knit sweater and khaki pants, his steely eyes engrossed in something on the opinion page.

  “Something caught your eye, babe. Who is it?” Alexa asked, raising up from her seat to see if she could figure out what had captured my attention.

  “Oh, nothing, I thought I saw somebody I knew,” I fibbed, handing her the spoon.

  “Bullshit. You almost walked right into a table,” she scanned the crowd, lots of families, parents taking their Moultrie students out for one last meal before returning home. “You are such a freak!” Alexa teased, sitting down with a smug smile.

  “What do you mean?” I asked, defensively, stabbing a piece of honeydew with my fork.

  “I never knew you were into girls. But yeah, that girl in the blue is a total hottie. If you’re into girls, that is. Which is totally cool. I just had no idea! But it makes sense, every guy I’ve tried to hook you up wi…”

  I had to cut her off. Once she got rambling, Alexa was like a runaway freight train. “Stop it! I’m not into girls. I don’t even know who you’re talking about. But if some girl caught your eye, I won’t judge.”

  “Please. If it wasn’t her, then who were you possibly staring at over there? Wait a minute. Not that old guy? He’s a professor. He probably hands out A plusses for blowjobs, ya know? Graham has him, I went with him one time during office hours. But he’s probably old enough to be your dad!”

  I decided to give up the ruse. “He’s exactly old enough to be my dad. He’s my dad’s best friend. They went here together. He’s known me practically since before I was born.”

  “Wowzers. Ever fuck him?” Alexa asked. Subtlety wasn’t a conversational tool found in her arsenal.

  “Didn’t you listen to a word I said?” I asked, incredulous.

  “Yeah, of course,” she said, between spoonfuls of her bisque. “But look at him. He’s got that whole ‘mysterious, handsome older guy’ thing going on. And he’s a college professor. With no ring on his finger. He’s either gay or fucking his way through every coed on campus. And he has a head start with you, since you’re already acquainted, right? I mean, he’s even in your field. You’ll have him eventually. In class, I mean.”

  “You are the most ridiculous human being I’ve ever met. I love you, but you’re ridiculous,” I said, shaking my head and laughing.

  “Hello, Josephine!” The voice was deep and raspy, unmistakable. And right next to our table.

  Dr. Hardwicke.

  I pretended to be surprised. “Oh my God, hi!” I rose to my feet and hugged him. “Doct-, sorry, John, this is Alexa Merriweather, she’s my roommate. She’s first year, from St. Louis. Alexa, this is John, aka Dr. Hardwicke. Politica
l Science professor.”

  John looked at her a moment and pointed his finger at her. “You’re friends with Graham Nevin, right? Pleased to meet you.”

  He extended a hand, which Alexa shook. “Yes. Good memory. I’m a good… friend of his. Very nice to meet you too, Professor.” She winked at me over his shoulder.

  “Well, I don’t want to interrupt anything, I was on my way up to get some bacon. Their thick bacon, with the glazed edge? It’s heavenly. I’m glad you two discovered this place. It’s a personal favorite of mine, but I don’t make it in on Sundays as much as I like. Enjoy your meal. Always nice to see you, Josephine.” He smiled at me, as if I was the best thing he’d seen all day.

  After he walked away, Alexa tore the crust off a piece of toast and popped the middle in her mouth. “Yeah, he can’t make it in on Sundays because he can’t get himself untangled from the arms and legs of all the coeds he takes home for the weekend with him.”

  I rolled my eyes. “He’s not like that.”

  “Always nice to see you, Josephine,” she said, in a terrible attempt to replicate his voice. “Did you see the bulge in his-?”

  “Stop!” I put my hand up to cut her off. “He is like my uncle. I don’t need to hear about his freaking bulge. You need help.”

  “What I need is a Bloody Mary. It’s too bad this place doesn’t serve alcohol.”

  “Anyway,” I said, desperate to keep moving the subject away from John. “What are your plans for Thanksgiving?”

  “I’m trying to talk Graham into coming home with me. But I don’t want to freak him out, you know? Make him think we’re more serious than he maybe wants us to be?” Alexa looked at me, nervous. That wasn’t like her.

  “Aren’t you? Serious, I mean,” I clarified. “It’s been like two months, and you’re over at his apartment more than you’re at the dorm, lately. Seems serious to me. And it’s not like he’s going home to South Africa, is it? Maybe for Christmas, not for Thanksgiving, surely. Do they even have that there?”

  “I don’t know, I doubt it. But it would be cool to take him home. Hell, he could stay with Trevor or something. He just lives a few streets over from me. I don’t think Larry would be cool with me bringing a college guy home to sleep on the couch. Not yet, anyway,” Alexa said, referring to her dad, a genuinely nice guy who made me wonder how Alexa had gotten so wild. “How about you? Going home to Casa de Faulkner?

  “I guess so,” I replied. “I mean, I haven’t officially discussed it with my parents yet, but yeah, I’m sure. My brother, Jeff, just started a new job up in Baltimore. I don’t know if he’d come home or not. He has a new girlfriend I haven’t met, so that could be interesting.”

  We commiserated over orange juice, soup, salad, bacon, and French toast, talking and laughing the early part of the afternoon away. When we couldn’t eat or drink another bite, Alexa stopped our waitress.

  “Can we have our bill, please? Separate checks.”

  The waitress smiled warmly. “Your bill has been taken care of. By a man in a brown sweater. He was sitting by the window. Very generous, too. You’re all set.”

  Alexa and I looked at each other with happy surprise. I shrugged and we exchanged high fives. Free food, especially yummy food like that, was a godsend for broke college students. After our meal, we figured we’d have a combined $11.27 in our checking accounts until one of us could convince her father to deposit more money.

  As soon as the waitress walked away, I knew Alexa would jump in with a snarky comment about sugar daddies or some such nonsense, so I stopped her before she started. “Not a word. Totally unexpected.”

  “All I was going to say is that we need to come here every Sunday and sit near the window to make sure he sees you!”

  “You’re insufferable,” I said.

  When we got back to our room, Alexa wanted to take a nap and sleep off the remnants of her hangover, so I went downstairs and sat on the bench next to our building and called my folks. I wanted to tell my dad about seeing John and to find out whether or not Jeff would be home for Thanksgiving.

  “Hey, Joey!” my mom answered. I hadn’t mentioned my college moniker of “Jo,” so I let it slide. “How’s school?”

  “School is groovy, Mom,” I said. “It’s hard, but I’m doing pretty well, I think.”

  “That’s great. Hang on, your father is going to the basement to pick up down there,” she said. I could hear her shuffling around.

  Yes, my parents still have a house phone. Or house phones, actually. Believe it or not, the one in the basement is a rotary phone. My brother says it belongs in a museum.

  “Hey, kiddo, how are things at my alma mater?” Dad asked. He never let an opportunity pass to remind me that he was a Moultrie grad.

  “Speaking of that, Alexa and I were having brunch at Spuds earlier and we ran into John. He paid for our meal. Didn’t tell us, it was a total surprise. So thank him for me if you talk to him, okay?”

  “I will thank him. Especially since that means I don’t have to put any money in your account this week now, right?” Dad asked me.

  “I never said that,” I corrected him.

  “Don’t worry, Joey, I’ll make sure he stops at the bank on his way home from work tomorrow. Do you have enough to get by until then?” My mother was always worried about me having enough to eat, despite their overwhelming generosity, my meal plan, and the freshman fifteen which was making my favorite jeans harder and harder to get up and over my ass.

  “Thanks, Mom,” I answered. “Hey, have you guys heard if Jeff is coming home for Thanksgiving? I was hoping he’d bring his new girlfriend. Is it Wendy?”

  My dad entered the conversation, his tone difficult to read. “Actually, baby, that’s something we wanted to talk to you about. I got a bonus at work, and you know our twenty-fifth anniversary is coming up in the Spring, right?”

  “Yeah, yes, of course,” I said.

  “Your mother and I have decided to take that trip to Europe we’ve always wanted to take. And we found a great deal starting midweek the week of Thanksgiving. So we were going to be gone that week and the following week. We hate to miss Thanksgiving with you, but we thought maybe the weekend after we get back, you could come home and we’d celebrate it then.”

  “I’ll cook it all just like it’s Thanksgiving, Joey. All your favorites. It’ll still be Thanksgiving, just not on the same date. What do you think?” My mom sounded so sad, but I knew she’d wanted to visit Europe for years.

  It wasn’t what I expected to hear, and my tone was probably brattier than I meant it to be. “What am I supposed to do for break, then? I’m eighteen, I can just stay at the house, right? Maybe I can go to Janelle’s house for Thanksgiving dinner.”

  Janelle was my best friend from high school. She’d gone away to Colorado for school, near where her maternal grandparents lived.

  “We actually checked with her family, and they’re flying to Colorado to spend Thanksgiving there. We’re really sorry to put you in a bind. It just worked out this way. But we have a plan. John said you could stay with him if you wanted to. I’d hate the idea of you sitting in your dorm room on Thanksgiving. He’s a great cook,” my dad offered.

  “I don’t know, Dad, I think I’d rather just come home and hang out at the house, honestly. I don’t want to bother John and put him out,” I answered.

  “Nonsense. He said he’d be thrilled to have somebody to cook for, for a change. Besides, you two are the only two people I know who could listen to each other talk politics for endless hours.”

  Mom cut my dad off, “Robert! Stop being mean. Joey is hurting. John will be spending the weekend at his cabin. We already talked to him about it. It’ll be the best thing. We didn’t want to scare you, but there have been some break-ins around here lately. We had a security system installed, but I can’t bear the thought of you being here alone for days and days. Do you remember the Palmers? Somebody came in a window while they were asleep! They woke up in the morning and Chip’s w
allet was gone, among other things. And his wallet had been on his dresser, which means the robber was in their bedroom while they were in there! Isn’t that terrifying? And they have a baby. I was almost sick when I heard about it.”

  I sighed. It sounded like there was no convincing them of anything else but me staying with John. The man I frequently masturbated to these days.

  I resigned myself to the strangest of Thanksgivings; John and I at his cabin in the foothills of the Smoky Mountains. I’d never been there, but I’d seen pictures my parents took when they’d visited. It looked beautiful, up a steep, twisty road and surrounded by trees. If nothing else, I could catch up on reading and sleep.

  I could just imagine how merciless Alexa’s teasing would be.

  “Okay, okay. John’s it is. But only if you promise you aren’t planning to pawn me off on cousin Gary for Christmas.”

  My parents both laughed.

  “Heavens, no. We will absolutely be home for Christmas, and Santa will be very good to you,” Mom said.

  “Deal. But I hope his idea of good is the same as mine!”

  “Part of our trip is going to take us through Italy,” Dad replied. “I’m pretty sure Santa speaks Italian.”

  So, it was set. I’d be spending Thanksgiving break at a cabin deep in the woods with a man I’d been masturbating to almost since I’d discovered I could do it. What could go wrong? Or what could go right? And was I completely sure which was which?

  Chapter Four

  Classes were scheduled for Monday and Tuesday, and due to some work on fire suppression systems in the dorms, we had to be out first thing Wednesday morning and the dorms wouldn’t reopen until Saturday morning. John had office hours on Wednesday and meetings in the early afternoon and wouldn’t be able to leave until around three.

  I’d attend my Tuesday morning classes, then John would pick me up later in the day when he was finished, and I’d spend the night at his condo and hang out there during the day Wednesday until he was ready to leave for the mountains.