Forbidden Professor

by R. S. Elliot

  Zach

  Aly didn’t show up to class today.

  It bothers me how easily this upsets me, but, considering I never have any other time to see her, those few moments when I can make all the difference in the world. Even if it’s just to steal a glance at her from across a crowded room. I message her, but she doesn’t respond back. She’s been avoiding me since yesterday when she saw Chloe and I together.

  I can’t blame her. If I saw her with another man I’m not sure how I’d react. I only know it wouldn’t be very sensible.

  I stare at the desk in front of me. Images of Aly half-naked on top of it flood my thoughts. Her soft breasts exposed beneath that skin-tight blouse and the pink nipple in the center immediately come to mind. My cock springs to life at the thought of her hands on me, the feel of her silken pussy constricting around it. The sound of her shortened breaths and delicious climax echo in my ears like a siren’s tune. Seductive. Mysterious.

  Dangerous.

  I can’t imagine Aly sharing that with anyone else. The idea of another man touching her, making love to her, twists in the pit of my stomach like a poisoned dagger.

  I can’t imagine myself with another woman. No matter how hard I’ve tried to shake the idea of Aly from my mind, nothing satisfies me. I haven’t even been able to kiss Chloe. I can barely stand to have her touch me, let alone be expected to return the same affections.

  This idea of going along with my father’s plans sounded plausible in theory at first. Then after these past two weeks spent apart from Aly, I’m not sure how I’ll be able to withstand a lifetime away.

  I love her.

  I can admit it to myself for once. I’ve fallen so helplessly in love with Aly McKenzie that no reward seems worth the sacrifice of losing her. My mother can stay in the apartment in San Francisco until we can figure out how to distance her from my father. She could stay there forever, for all I care. If that’s even what she wants.

  I haven’t asked her. Either Chloe or my father always seems to wedge in between us. Just like they had last night at dinner. It’s all a part of his plan, I assume.

  I pull out my phone and punch in my mother’s number. There’s no harm in calling and seeing if she can talk without my father looming over every word. The video chat sparks to life, and my mother’s smiling face materializes on the other side.

  “What do you need?” My mother looks somewhere off camera. She’s out on the pool deck, making something or mixing something. Though I can’t tell what.

  “Do I need any other reason to call you other than to check in?”

  “Hmm.” She muses to herself. “Well seeing as you rarely check-in, I would say yes. You usually only call when you’re concerned about something or need my advice. And considering how miserable you looked with that woman at dinner last night, I’ll guess that has something to do with it.”

  “How insightful of you.”

  She flicks a hand in the air. “Call it ‘mother’s intuition’. What’s the story there anyway? Did your father put you up to this?”

  “Um…” How the hell do I answer that?

  Before I can develop a convincing excuse, the tiny wrinkles around her eyes deepen into notable wings at the corners. “I’ll have a word with him. He shouldn’t do this to you.”

  Shit.

  This isn’t going the way I wanted it to go. “Mom, wait. It just…”

  How do I tell her? How do I ask her to come stay in an empty apartment and leave my father? What possible excuse could I give that wouldn’t put her at risk of fighting with him again? If I tell her what he’s done, what he’s threatened, she’ll either say I’m overreacting or confront him. That will only end in more broken furniture, and I will end up with nothing. Just like he promised.

  If she does believe me, she’ll say something like, “nothing could ever keep me from you”. It would only hurt more when the time came, and my mother was nowhere to be found. Perhaps, not by any choice of her own. My father can be very convincing. Either way, it is difficult to convince a woman to leave her husband after thirty-five years of marriage. She’s already put up with so much over the years, why wouldn’t she be able to handle this, too?

  My mother’s been staring at me for the last minute. Her scowl gradually tightens with each passing second.

  “I just…” The words fail me. “My apartment in San Francisco has been vacant for a while. Dad doesn’t know about it, so...if you ever need a place to stay.”

  “Honey, why are you telling me this?” My mother puts down whatever she’s been working on, the gravity in her voice revealing how transparent I’ve become.

  “Just in case, you know, you need some time away,” I explain, trying to wave off her worries. “That’s a normal thing married couples do.”

  “How would you know?” She sniffs at the air. “You’ve always hated the idea of marriage.”

  “Mom.”

  “What?” She peers into the camera innocently. “I’d like to see my son settled down before I’m put in the ground, you know.”

  “You’re only fifty-six.”

  “You never know when it’s your time,” she all but shouts into the cellphone. “So you need to hurry up before it’s too late. Just not with that girl. That Chloe. I mean, my grandchildren would be beautiful, but they’d also probably be born with a Mattel symbol for a birthmark, so…”

  She raises whatever she’s been working on up to her lips. Some multicolored concoction with a pineapple wedge and flamingo embellishment flashes across the screen.

  “Find someone who treats you right and loves you for all the right reasons.” Her eyes drift off the screen again, staring off into some magical realm from the looks of it.

  “Otherwise, you’ll wake up after thirty-five years of marriage and realize you’re too old to flirt with that sexy groundskeeper who’s always smiling at you from across the pool deck.”

  What the hell?

  I must have slipped into some sort of hallucination. But she appears completely serious, her eyes locked somewhere off screen. “Mom!”

  “I’m kidding.” She does a half-turn into the camera and smiles. “You’re never too old. Gotta go, honey.”

  The video shuts off, and I’m left staring at a dark screen. “Mom?”

  Other than my mom’s disturbing comments about her fascination with the groundskeeper, her words hit me hard. I don’t know if I’m ready for something like marriage with Aly yet. I don’t even know if she will have me after all I’ve put her through these last few weeks. Or how she’ll react if Jackson ever does finally make good on his threats.

  All I know is I’ve spent too much time hiding, too much time worrying about problems that don’t really matter. I may not be a billionaire after all this is done, but I won’t be flat-broke either. I’ll still be able to donate a little to Derek and Marianne’s organization each year. I’ll be able to start Aly with a program of her own, one that we build together, work on together. Something where we can change the world.

  Who knew I was such an idealist, after all?

  I collect my things and rush downstairs. If I show up at Aly’s place, she’ll have no other choice but to talk to me. As I cross the lawn toward the parking lot, I notice a young blonde carrying a yoga mat. I recognize her instantly and hasten my steps to catch up with her.

  “Lyndsey. Can I talk to you for a second?”

  Lyndsey stops and turns to face me. “You!”

  “I’m starting to think that’s the only greeting you know.”

  Her dark eyes turn almost black, pinning me with a deadly glare that would even give Medusa pause. “You have a lot of nerve coming up to me right now. Aren’t you afraid someone will see us?”

  Alright. I deserved that. “God, Lyndsey. I know I’ve fucked up. Can you just tell me where Aly is? She didn’t show up for class today, and she isn’t returning my phone calls.”

  “Yeah. Well, her phone’s dead,” she explains candidly, avoiding the answer to my first question
altogether. “I’m supposed to bring her her charger later tonight.”

  “Where is she?” I’m starting to get worried. Why doesn’t she just come right out and say where Aly is? Where could she possibly be that she wouldn’t have her charger handy for so long?

  “Why should I even bother telling you?” Lyndsey asks. “Why do you even care? Shouldn’t you be snuggling up to your little bimbo trophy wife?”

  “She’s not mine. I mean she’s not a trophy-” I stammer. “Dammit, this is all a huge misunderstanding. Mainly on my account.”

  All on my account.

  If I hadn’t been so blinded by my pride and completely oblivious to my feelings, none of this would have ever happened. Aly isn’t some delicate flower that needs my protection. She just needs someone there for her, a partner to share the burden with and help her realize her greatest potential.

  Like me.

  “I’m not the best at recognizing my own feelings and knowing how to act on them,” I explain. “Aly is much better at that than I am.”

  The darkness in Lyndsey’s eyes fade. She softens. A look of sympathy washes away the previous glare of murderous rage.

  “Can you please just tell me where she’s at?”

  Lyndsey hesitates, but eventually adds, “She’s in the hospital.”

  A thud the size of a freight train plows into my chest. “Wha- Is she okay?”

  Lyndsey reaches a hand out to me. “She’s fine. It’s her mother.”

  Her mother? Even before Aly explained her mother’s struggle with depression, I realized the story she told during our first meeting wasn’t a hypothetical one. Aly took on more responsibility than should be necessary for a sixteen-year-old, never questioning for one second that these expectations weren’t normal.

  “She took almost a whole bottle of sleeping pills Sunday morning,” Lyndsey explains. “She’s lucky to be alive.”

  That same pounding in my chest returns. Though this time not for Aly’s safety. The amount of pain she must be in chips away at my heart. She needs someone to comfort her, someone to convince her it will be alright no matter the outcome. “Which hospital?”

  The look on Lyndsey’s face is one of sheer panic.

  “Zach, I wouldn’t go down there.”

  “Why not?”

  “She needs all the support and stability she can get right now,” Lyndsey shakes her head. “And that isn’t you. You’re the opposite. You’re chaos and self-serving.”

  A sharp pang sears through my shoulder. The sting magnifies with the awareness that Lyndsey only feels this way through her conversations with Aly. I’ve really messed it up this time. “Wow. She really paints a great picture of me.”

  “No. She thinks the world of you,” Lyndsey explains. “But I can see what’s really going on here. You’re only worried about yourself and your career, and how you look in front of all your fancy friends.”

  “Lyndsey.” I steady myself with one long breath. Someone should probably know the truth. “Jackson knows about Aly and me.”

  The scolding glare shifts to shock. “What? Like, knows? Or actually knows?”

  “I’m not sure which of those to choose since they’re basically the same,” I grumble. “But he has a photo of all of us from the night she was drugged. Then I guess one of his friends saw us together outside your apartment.”

  “Well, that doesn’t seem very threatening.”

  No, not on the surface. A little bad ink is a ritual form of gossip in my old social circles. But people tend to overlook things when you can offer them parties on private islands and diamonds as favors. I’m not sure how Aly would take it, what it would do to her to see our relationship as fodder for people to feed on like blood-thirsty beasts.

  “He knows how to manipulate the information to his advantage,” I explain.

  “So that’s why you’ve been staying away from her?”

  The lump in my throat prevents me from nodding all the way, but I give it a try all the same. “I don’t want her to get hurt. I don’t give a damn about my work anymore. Aly doesn’t even need the apprenticeship with her new business proposal. But I just… I don’t want him dragging Aly’s reputation down in the mud. She’s worked too hard to have it all ripped from her like that.”

  Lyndsey’s dark eyes study me, reaching deep down into my soul to assess the authenticity behind my words. After what feels like twenty minutes of her examination, she gives in, and says,

  “She’s at Oakland Regional. Ask for Nora McKenzie.”

  The corridors of the hospital are a maze of misdirects.

  Every hallway looks the exact same. Paintings of flowers or landscapes act as the only decorations in an otherwise sterile environment, each one indistinguishable from the next. The same sad, miserable faces peer back at me from their rooms as I pass them. A cold embrace of fear envelops me.

  I hate hospitals.

  I can’t imagine what it must have been like for Aly to have spent as much time as she did here. Watching her father grow weaker, slowly slipping away from her. Now, it must seem like a recurring nightmare.

  When I find the right room number, the ethereal scene before me nearly breaks my heart. Aly’s asleep on the small sofa next to the hospital bed. She’s curled into a tiny ball, arms crossed over her shoulder and her feet drawn tight into her chest. I find a soft blanket discarded to one side of the couch and drape it over her. Without thinking, my fingertips brush back the soft locks of hair tangled about her shoulders and face. She looks so peaceful, despite bunching her body up to retain warmth.

  Who knows what quality of sleep she’s been getting? If it were my mother, I know I’d have trouble sleeping at all. I toss my coat on the arm of the sofa and walk over to check on her mother.

  The first time I’m meeting Nora McKenzie and the circumstances are less than ideal. So this is the woman who raised Aly? This is the woman she’s constantly worrying about? The woman who shaped Aly’s career decisions and ambition.

  It’s hard to tell whether Aly looks anything like her mother, or what traits they share in common. Not with all the tubes and contraptions Mrs. McKenzie has hooked up to her. The only noticeable characteristic is her vibrant red hair. I reach down for the log of notes at the foot of her bed and skim through them.

  So not an overdose on sleeping pills but whatever benzos they’d prescribed for her depression.

  Close monitoring for at least 48 hours after waking.

  I set the log back down and try to think of the ways I can help. But what can I really do? I can’t stay with Aly’s mom. I can’t even hire a full-time care worker to watch Mrs. McKenzie’s every move for twenty-four hours a day.

  “What are you doing here?” Aly’s groggy voice asks from beside me.

  I turn toward her. She’s still laying down on the couch, snuggled up in the blanket I set over her. “I heard about your mom.”

  “So why are you here?”

  Damn. You really messed this up with her.

  The many reasons for why I’ve come to be with her assail me, each answer sounding more pathetic than the last. I want to be with you. I was worried about you. Each one sounds selfish.

  I’m here to appease my mind because I can’t stand to see you in pain.

  I reach into my pants pocket and remove a long white cord. “I brought you your charger.”

  Her sleepy eyes rove over me, suspicious. She closes them again and releases a soft chuckle. “Fine. I’ll accept your peace offering.”

  Aly extends her hand outward, and I place the charger in her palm. Instantly, she tosses it to the side and holds her hand out to me again. Warmth radiates around my heart. I don’t deserve this woman or her forgiveness.

  I claim her hand with my own and take my seat down beside her. “How’s she been doing?”

  “She hasn’t woken up yet,” Aly mumbles. Her hand flexes around mine, and I tighten my grip to reassure her I’m here.

  For this, for whatever’s next. Forever.

  “
The doctor said she should recover, just her body’s in shock or something like that,” she continues. “Lyndsey stayed with me all last night. She went home this morning to get some sleep. I’m guessing she’s not coming by.”

  “She’s just waiting to hear from one of us.”

  Aly sits up. Her hair spreads every which way in arbitrary clumps. She dreamily rubs the dust from her eyes and yawns. And she could not be any more beautiful than she is now.

  “How long do you plan on staying?” she asks, facing me.

  “As long as you need me.”

  She opens her mouth to speak, the exact words failing her. For several seconds, she flounders like that, putting into images every thought I’m feeling at the moment. Her struggle with speechlessness ends with the arrival of the doctor.

  “Still here, Miss McKenzie?” he asks. “I thought I told you to go home and get some rest?”

  “I don’t want her to wake up alone.”

  The doctor looks down at his chart. “No chance of that. We’re going to keep her asleep for at least another day to give her body time to heal. We can give you a call in the morning before we wake her.”

  “That’s fine.” Aly nods weakly, still stunned and trying to get her bearings about her. “Anything else I should know?”

  “Someone should probably stay with her for the next couple of weeks. Is there another family member who could stay with her while you’re at school or work?”

  “No. There’s just been the two of us for a while.” Aly stares down at the floor tiles. She’s already adding up the costs in her head. The lost wages, the money spent on these recent hospital bills, and what it’s going to cost her to miss any time from school.

  I want to help her. I’m more than capable of doing so. At least for now, until my father finds out I blew off a date with Chloe to be here. Aly would never accept a handout, especially for something like this. Not from me.

  “Well, I can put together some resources for you, and we’ll keep her here for a couple of days,” the doctor says. “But you should really start thinking long-term.”

  Long-term. God, that sounds expensive, too! I can’t just sit by and watch her get pummelled with expenses like this.