Forbidden Fruit: An Unlikely Love Story

by Michelle Fondin

  Marissa wanted to quote the teachers she interviewed but she hadn’t taken everything down verbatim. It was hard to write as they were talking. She couldn’t write fast enough. Now she would have to go back to the teachers and read them the quotes she wrote to make sure they agreed with them.

  “Oh, and Marissa,” began Ms. Prime, “I hope you have a photograph of the new teachers to go with your article.”

  She caught Marissa by surprise, “Um, I hadn’t thought of that Ms. Prime but I will try to take care of it.

  “Sam, can Marissa have the camera?” asked Ms. Prime.

  “Phil has it to take pictures of the football teams,” answered Sam.

  “Well, see if you can borrow a camera. Maybe the photography teacher has one,” suggested Ms. Prime.

  “Ma’am?” asked Marissa.

  “The art teacher teaches photography. He probably has a camera. Ask if you can borrow it. I’ll give you a roll of film. We’ll get everything developed after school. And remember, people, articles are due no later than 3:00 p.m. today.”

  Before lunch Marissa ran to the art room. Mr. Smith was eating out of a plastic container. Once again music filled the room.

  By the time Marissa reached Mr. Smith’s desk, she was out of breath. She had forty-five minutes to gather four teachers, borrow a camera, take pictures, verify quotes and try to eat.

  She caught Mr. Smith with a fork midway to his mouth, “Hi. Sorry to interrupt your lunch but I need a favor,” She stopped to listen to the music a minute. “Uh, Cat Stevens right?”

  Mr. Smith shook his head, “No, Peter Gabriel. And uh, whatever happened to knocking?” he said dropping his fork.

  “Sorry. I’m kind of in a pickle you see. Um, do you have a camera I could use? You see, I need to take a picture of the new teachers and uh, well that would include you but I don’t have a camera and I need to take the picture today.” Marissa tried to look as defenseless and pathetic as she could.

  Mr. Smith shook his head in disbelief. He wasn’t sure if he was more surprised by her boldness or her energy. “O.K. first, take a breath. Now, I do have a camera but it’s an expensive one so I don’t lend it out. But I’ll allow you to use it to take the picture since I’ll be there. I can even develop it in the photography lab this afternoon. Why don’t you see if you can get the other teachers and we can take the picture out on the patio here?”

  Marissa exhaled deeply. “Thank you. You’re a lifesaver,” she said smiling. “I’ll be right back.” Then she stopped, “Oh, and I forgot. I need to verify the quotes I’m using for the article.” She opened her notebook, You said quote ‘I believe that teaching someone something is one of the greatest gifts you can give’ end quote and quote ‘I hope to bring a keen awareness about the importance of art in people’s lives.’ End quote.”

  “That sounds about right,” Mr. Smith stopped and stared at Marissa intently, “You’re taking this article very seriously.”

  Marissa stared right back at him. “I take everything I do very seriously.”

  It took a lot of persuading but when Marissa finally pried the other teachers away from their lunches, Mr. Smith was waiting on the patio, camera in hand. It was a bright, sunny fall day. Mr. Smith had his sunglasses on. When Mr. Sincop stepped out onto the patio he put on his sunglasses. That gave Marissa an idea. She asked the other two teachers if they had sunglasses too.

  While the other teachers went out to their cars to get their sunglasses, Mr. Smith showed Marissa how to use the camera. It was a manual camera and she had only ever used a 35mm automatic camera. He showed her how to look into the viewfinder and to adjust the lens. He stood close to her as he explained. His sandy blond hair flipped back in the wind. In the three or four times she had seen him, this was the closest in proximity she had ever been to him. The breeze blew the scent of expensive cologne in her direction. Their hands touched as he handed her the camera. Marissa felt a chill through her spine.

  “Do you understand?” he asked her.

  Marissa was so taken by all the sensations that she forgot to listen completely. “I think so,” she lied. She couldn’t possibly tell him she was too busy smelling him to listen to his instructions.

  “O.K.,” she directed, “Could you all put on your sunglasses and sit on that brick wall? That’s it. Good. Now smile.”

  She adjusted the lens. The camera clicked once, twice, three times.

  After school, Marissa returned to the art room. This time she knocked. “So how did the pictures turn out?”

  “Come look.” Mr. Smith said smiling.

  Marissa went over to the table. “I like that one,” she said pointing to one.

  “Me too, that’s probably my favorite. You see, Marissa, you are an artist after all,” he teased.

  Marissa rolled her eyes, “O.K. whatever. Thanks for the pictures. I have to run these to the newspaper room.” She turned to go.

  “Do you ever slow down?” Mr. Smith yelled to her.

  She turned and answered quickly, “Nope.”

  Chapter Six

  Friday, mid-morning, the newspaper arrived. The student newspaper staff was in charge of passing out the papers. Marissa made sure she got the art room. Pamela was in art class during that period. She walked over to tease her sister. “Oh, that looks advanced, scribbling on paper are we?”

  Mr. Smith came over to the girls, “Marissa, don’t bother my students, please.”

  “Uh, this is my sister. It’s my God-given right to bother her,” answered Marissa haughtily.

  He looked from Marissa to Pamela and back again. “Wow, I would never have believed you two were sisters.”

  “Well, being that our last names are both Belknapp. That might be an indication,” chided Marissa.

  “Yeah, with about seventy students and only one week into school, chances are I haven’t learned everyone’s name by heart yet. And being that you’re not my student, I don’t know you at all. So what are you doing in my classroom in the middle of class?” Mr. Smith said sarcastically.

  Marissa held up the stack in her arms, “School papers.”

  His face brightened up, “Oh, you have them.”

  “Yeah but technically I can’t pass them out. You can pass them out when you’re done teaching your lesson so it won’t be a distraction. How many students do you have this period?”

  “Twenty-four.”

  “Done.” She held out her hand. “Nice doing business with you, good-bye.” Then she yelled out over her shoulder, “Have fun scribbling Pam!”

  “Shading,” Pamela yelled back, “We’re shading.”

  Nick Smith unfolded the newspaper. On the front page he saw a black and white photograph of himself and three other teachers wearing sunglasses. The caption above the photo read, “Brilliant Futures Predicted”. He read on. “The future’s so bright-gotta wear shades. This line from the Timbuk 3 song sums up the attitude of the four new faculty members.” He stopped.

  He thought about the writer of the article and how she had burst into his life so unexpectedly a few days before. There was something about her that intrigued him, something that made him come alive. He wasn’t sure if it was her lack of fear or her self-confidence, but something. Here he was finally starting his career as a teacher and he found himself blindsided by a student. It made him wonder what was wrong with himself. It made him wonder if he was fit for the job. He needed to focus.

  In order to show support for the school, he had decided to go to the school’s first football game. He wasn’t particularly interested in the sport but felt it was a good way to socialize with other faculty members and show he was a team player. Since he wasn’t crazy about the idea of going alone, he had invited an old high school friend to come along.

  Marissa was proud of her first article. To celebrate their first edition of the year, the newspaper students held a pizza party after school. Some of the seniors decided to tailgate before the football game. Marissa went home to get ready.

  She never went
to the football games for the football. She went to socialize with everyone. Meg had suggested they go together and Marissa agreed.

  St. Mary’s was the home team that night and the stadium was extremely crowded. The girls stood in line at the concession stand to get something to drink before they headed up the bleachers.

  “Hey Mariss, have you started working on your college apps yet?” asked Meg.

  “Yeah, I’m working on my essay. It’s killing me. I’m not sure what to write,” confided Marissa.

  “You’re applying to colleges in California right? Because of your boyfriend?”

  “Well, that’s not the only reason. But yeah, I really want to get into UCLA. Where are you applying?” asked Marissa.

  “State. That’s where my brother goes. I go up there a lot. It’s really cool. It’s a total party school,” said Meg.

  “Sounds like fun. I’ve never been to State.”

  “Hey, I’m going next weekend. Do you want to come with me?” asked Meg.

  “Thanks. I’d love to. Hopefully, Barb, I mean, my mom will let me go,” said Marissa.

  The girls continued to chatter about college dorms and parties when they heard a woman’s voice behind them say, “I can’t believe you teach these kids. Just look at them Nick, they look like sixteen going on twenty but they act so crazy. I know I agreed to come with you but come on. And these are the catholic school kids? I wonder what the public school kids are like these days.”

  Marissa wondered who would be at a high school football game criticizing high school kids. She turned casually to take a look and followed the voice to a medium built woman in her early twenties. She was talking incessantly to the man next to her who happened to be Mr. Smith. When Marissa spied him, she turned quickly back around. She didn’t want to stare but from what she saw of the woman, she was not pretty at all. If that was Mr. Smith’s girlfriend, he did not go for the good-looking kind.

  Part of her felt disappointed that he had a girlfriend. But then again, she had a boyfriend. In her twisted logic of lusting after a teacher, they were even. Besides, with the way he looked, there was no way on earth he wouldn’t have a girlfriend.

  Meg and Marissa bought their drinks and headed for the bleachers. “Meg wait, we need to stop at the bathrooms.”

  “Hurry up Marissa, go. I’ll hold your drink,” said Meg.

  Marissa went into the stall.

  “Hey what was the deal with that woman behind us complaining about teenagers and stuff? How weird was that? What the hell is she doing at a high school game anyway?” snickered Meg.

  “Yeah, I don’t know,” yelled Marissa from the stall.

  Just then a toilet flushed. Mr. Smith’s companion came out of the adjoining stall.

  “Hey Marissa,” yelled Meg. “Got something to tell you.”

  Marissa came out of the stall and saw the woman. Both girls looked at each other and giggled. They rushed out of the bathroom and bumped directly into Mr. Smith.

  “Hey, it’s the future Pulitzer Prize winner,” he smiled.

  “What?” giggled Meg.

  “Marissa, I want you to meet my friend, Ann. Ann this is Marissa, future award-winning journalist.”

  Marissa stuck out her hand. “Pleased to meet you. Uh, we gotta go. The game’s about to start.”

  Meg nudged Marissa in the side as they left. “Mariss, what was that all about?”

  “Oh, I did that newspaper article. He was just teasing me about it,” answered Marissa.

  “Do you think that’s his girlfriend? She’s like not very pretty.”

  “O.K. like I care. Let’s just go,” said Marissa annoyed.

  “Okay, okay. Chill out,” answered Meg.

  But Marissa couldn’t chill out. She was thinking. She was thinking and gathering information to help her learn more about this teacher who intrigued her so. The lady called him “Nick”. And Nick told her he wanted to introduce her to his friend. He didn’t say girlfriend.

  Marissa watched the couple through the entire game. She knew it was insane but she couldn’t help herself. Any sign of affection and she would forget him completely. She watched, waited, nothing.

  *****

  It had been ten days since the first football game. And Nick’s life was getting back to normal. He hadn’t seen Marissa Belknapp and he was all the better for it. He didn’t need distractions to take him away from his job. His life had been in an upheaval for long enough, it was time to settle down.

  Nick was quickly discovering the disadvantages of teaching part-time. One, he didn’t make enough money to move out of his parents house. Two, he couldn’t figure out how to work only part-time. And three, he needed a second job if he was going to make ends meet.

  At twenty-four, he wasn’t especially interested in settling down, but his parents had pushed. Seeing their son travel from place to place with temporary jobs made them worry and they were more than relieved when a friend told them St. Mary’s was looking for an art teacher. They urged Nick to apply and offered him a place to stay until he had enough money to find a place of his own. What they really wanted was for him to get married. They figured a good woman might help anchor their artistic boy. Among their friends and colleagues, they kept the word out that their son was young, handsome and available.

  Nick loved his parents and he knew they had the best intentions in mind. But in reality, he wasn’t sure that teaching in a Catholic high school was his vocation. He had been exploring other avenues but had not yet found one that fit him perfectly. Discovery and exploring were what he loved and that was why he craved knowledge from books. Yet his parents were right in one aspect, he needed to make a living and this job was his opportunity to start. He had the drive to succeed. He felt if he botched this up, he would disappoint them and himself.

  Chapter Seven

  When opportunity knocks, be ready to answer. Obsessed by the thought of another encounter with Nick Smith, Marissa searched for an opportunity. There was absolutely no reason why they should meet again except by chance.

  In the minutes before she drifted off to sleep, she thought of how she had felt when their hands touched. She longed for that feeling again. In that brief moment she had felt something between them. She was certain. She hadn’t imagined it. Yet she did imagine what it might be like to be that close to him again, to feel his hands on hers, to smell his body. If she had imagined that spark between them, she would let it go. That’s why she needed to see him again. She needed to create the opportunity to see what would come out of it.

  The next day when the bell rang for lunch, Marissa took a detour and headed for the art room. She had practiced what she would say all morning, yet she was still shaking as she walked toward the door. But when she arrived, the door was locked. She knocked briefly then quickly turned to go. She took in a deep breath. It was a bad idea anyway, she said to herself exhaling deeply. With her heart still beating fast, she sprinted down the corridor. Nick was coming toward her. There was nowhere to turn and no one around but him. He stared at her puzzled. “Hey Marissa, were you coming to see me?”

  Marissa held her breath, then blurted out, “I, uh, yes. But I see you have your lunch there so I can come back.”

  Nick smiled at her and said, “No, that’s O.K., I can take a minute.”

  She followed him to the art room. Nick was holding a plastic container in one hand and his keys in the other. He fumbled with the keys for a few seconds before he said, “Could you hold this for me for a sec?” He held the container out to her.

  She beamed, “Sure.”

  “Watch it, it’s hot,” he warned.

  Marissa held up the container, “What is it?”

  “That would be my lunch.” Nick said matter-of-factly.

  “O.K. I got that much but what is it?” she asked.

  He pulled the key out of the lock. “Uh, tofu and brown rice.”

  “What and brown rice?” Marissa smirked.

  “Tofu. It’s bean curd.” Seeing the confused l
ook on Marissa’s face, he continued to explain, “It’s made out of soybeans.”

  Marissa shook her head with understanding, “I see. You actually eat that stuff?”

  Nick laughed. “So what can I do for you?”

  “I was wondering if you could proofread my essay for my college application,” she said.

  Nick crossed his arms. “Why do you want me to proofread it? Why not your English teacher?”

  Marissa thought he might ask that so she had rehearsed an answer. “Well, there are two reasons: the first is you don’t know me so chances are you’ll give me an objective opinion. The second reason is you said you’re an avid reader. Avid readers are usually decent writers. I should know since I’m an avid reader myself.” She paused here hoping she didn’t sound too eager.

  Not knowing whether or not he was going to buy her answer, he hesitated a moment. “What schools are you applying to?”

  “Well, I’m applying to at least three but this essay is for UCLA.”

  “Do you have your essay?” Nick asked.

  Marissa smiled and pulled it out of her bag. Handing the essay to him, she said, “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

  Nick took it and said, “Why don’t you stop by after fifth period.”

  “O.K.” she said and turned to go.

  She had done it. The door was open and she could at last peer inside.

  At one o’clock, Marissa found herself once again in the art room. Nick was sitting at his desk flipping through a magazine. He handed the essay to her. He had stuck on a post-it note upon which he wrote:

  Marissa,

  Thanks for allowing me to read this. It was expressive and well written. Thanks for allowing me to get to know you better!

  I highlighted some grammatical errors. Maybe I should double as an English teacher. I seem to correct and criticize a lot in that department. I should look at what I wrote when I was a senior. I believe I would be surprised at the simplicity of my expression. My expressiveness and ability to write intelligibly has improved immensely.