12. Sasha

Sasha slipped her books into her backpack and zipped it shut. She was really looking forward to school again. She had been meeting Professor Wolf at the campus coffee house for a couple of Thursdays now, during his unofficial office hours he held before one of his classes. After talking, he would head to his class, and she would head to the music building to practice, or compose, or whatever she felt like doing that day.
Professor Wolf had brought this new warmth to her life; they talked about all kinds of things and she felt at ease with him, as if she had nothing to hide. It seemed like he would understand whatever drivel came from her on any given day.
She walked into the small food court and scanned the area for him. He was sitting alone at one of the small round table with a bit of reading in front of him. She approached slowly, still somewhat unsure if she should interrupt him. She was still a few feet from the table when he looked up and smiled at her. He closed the book he was reading as she got to the table and sat down.
“How are you?” he said jovially.
“Good.” She settled into the rigid wooden seat and laid her backpack on the floor. Conversation with him was so easy and fluid, there were never any of the awkward pauses that sprinkled most of her conversations with people. They talked about the things they liked to do, places they’d been, things they thought about. He asked her about college. She told him about all the classes she’d gone to, the great professors she’d had, the fun town, and all the friends she’d left behind to move to California.
“So was there the college boyfriend, too?” he asked expectantly. She stopped and looked at him. He shifted in his seat. “See, this is what I think. You had a fair number of boyfriends, with one or two long relationships, maybe you even got close to getting married. How close did I get?”
She swallowed nervously and looked around her, then back at him. “Well, actually, you’re way off. There was nothing like that.”
“You mean you never had the college boyfriend?” he asked with disbelief.
“No. Never. Not even close,” she scoffed. He could see the cynicism on her face and the tightening of her posture. He didn’t prod her, but she continued anyway. “Actually, the vast majority of my relationships last a week or two, with the longest being a whopping nine months. Second place comes in at six weeks.” She laughed self-consciously.
“Why is that, do you think?”
“Oh, I’m insane,” she was trying to keep things light.
He laughed and said, “Why, what makes you say that?”
“Well, it’s true. I might be ok to look at, but after a week or so, I’m not so much fun anymore. Then they see what a freak I am and just quit calling.” She had been looking sideways while she’d been talking, and they trailed back as she finished her sentence. She was waiting for him to agree with her, or to disagree, or to change the subject altogether.
“Why do you think you’re a freak? I can’t imagine anything that terrible about you that it would scare someone off like you say.”
“Well,” she was trying to think, “I have really funny eating habits, and I drink too much, and I work too much, and I spend all my time at school…” She trailed off into the noise of people behind her.
He shook his head. “That doesn’t sound freakish. It actually sounds like you’re pretty normal.”
“Tell that to them.” She laughed, hoping that would be the end of the conversation. She felt weird talking to her professor about such a personal thing, but she wasn’t sorry or uncomfortable. Maybe it was just weird because no one had ever asked her that before. Someone was actually listening to the answers to their questions. It reminded her of the therapist she used to visit, but better, because she didn’t have to pay for him to listen. It seems like he really wanted to know everything there was to know about her. She liked it. It made her feel interesting.
She laughed again quietly and looked up at him. She was surprised to see him sitting back staring at her. He has a funny smirk on his face that showed just a bit of white teeth behind his lips. His gaze made her nervous; she didn’t know how to react. She wasn’t used to people looking at her either. Or rather, inside her.