Maggie and The Professor

It was Maggie who found the section that they'd been looking for. She kneeled and caressed the spines of the old books, surveying the numbers and titles with darting eyes, a thoughtful hand pressed to her lips.

"Hey, what was the title we were looking for again?" She looked up at him, and, in turning her head, she revealed the moon-pale skin of her neck, her luminous collarbones, the tops of her breasts and the slip of shadow between them. The pair stared at each other then, wordless, aware, stirred. Maggie wide-eyed, David heavy-lidded, the both of them recognizing for the first time the wanton longing in the other's look.

Maggie sneezed and broke the spell.

"Tradition and Modernity in Bhakti Movements," he mumbled, as if he'd been woken suddenly. He clumsily handed her a scrap of paper with the title and call number scrawled across it. Maggie stared at it as if just handed something written in a foreign language. She shook her head and focused on the numbers and scanned the shelf again.

"Found it." She plucked the book from the shelf and checked it over.

He moved toward her unconsciously, hoping to catch her scent and, as she rose, she realized that David was threateningly close, thrillingly warm behind her. She turned to see something sharp and foreign in his expression soften into a nervous half-smile.

He offered his hand. "I'll take it."

"Thanks," she whispered. David felt his light-headedness ease as they descended the staircase but his arousal remained as he watched her glide down the steps.

Maggie stopped short of the first floor, and David nearly plowed into her. She turned to him, serious. "Do you have a problem with using the self-checkout?"

"What? No. Why?"

Her voice low, she explained, "This librarian likes to hit on me." She indicated the only librarian working, a lanky, pink-faced blonde about her age. He hadn't seemed to notice them yet. "I've been going here for privacy and peace but he always chats me up. He's pushy. He makes me nervous," she confessed.

David tucked their books into the crook of his arm. "Take my hand."

"What?"

"We'll pretend we're an item. Throw him off for good."

"Oh!" She thought it over but still looked a little leery.

"You'll have to choose the lesser of two evils," he smirked.

"You'd do that?" He offered his hand, and she took it without hesitation. For a moment, he marveled at the pulse that ran between them as they touched, and at how delicate her fingers were inside his own hand, which seemed huge in comparison. The two walked together, David only slightly disappointed to lose the best vantage point to watch her move.

The librarian was up from the desk and headed their way. He took notice of the pair and smiled and waved, and Maggie waved back with her free hand. The librarian opened his mouth to speak, but David improvised and kissed her hair just in time. The man's mouth closed, and he only nodded to them as they passed.

When they reached self-checkout, Maggie looked at David, her surprise barely disguised. He prepared for a lecture, to hear that he had crossed some boundary. "Thanks," she said, and that was it.

"Anytime," he grinned.

*

David and Maggie fell into a rhythm of meeting every other day for a few hours, usually in the early afternoon. They spent half of their time working, and the other half making small talk and getting to know each other. And then one morning, David woke with more energy than he was used to. He called Maggie to let her know that there would be a change of plans. "I think I'm going to work all day today," he explained. "So you can come over whenever, if there's a better time for you."

"Thanks for the heads up. I'll probably be over later tonight, if that's okay." And David accepted.

So even though he'd known that she'd be coming over, David's nerves sparked at the sound of his doorbell late that evening. Maggie stood on his porch, absently toying with the strap of what looked more like a doctor's bag than a purse. She wore the same big shirt she'd had on the day they'd met, but she'd thrown a cardigan over it.

David was the first to speak. "Hi there."

"Hey. Sorry if this is too late." He shook his head.

"I didn't even notice. Come on in." David had started to think that she might not show at all, so by this time, he'd poured himself a couple glasses of wine and was already feeling the effects, having not eaten a proper dinner. It was only polite to offer Maggie a glass, he reasoned.

"Wine?"

"I could use a little," she responded with only a moment's hesitation. David felt tense and decided he'd get right down to it.

He handed her a heavy book. "I'd like you to read through this, maybe make a note of any passages you find interesting and relevant, then summarize them." Maggie had always prided herself in being a hard-worker, and she found herself wanting to impress David. So she sat down at the table, a pencil in hand, and immediately began to read.

But Maggie, thin as she was, felt herself grow tipsy faster than she expected. It felt to her as if they'd been sitting there together quietly for at least an hour, and she lost focus and grew bored. "What are you reading about?"

David felt he'd been awakened from a deep sleep. "Samoans."

"What about them?"

"Virginity was a legal requirement for marriage," David explained, summarizing the chapter that he was reading.

"I guess I'd be ruined," Maggie responded with a smirk and, curiously, a little color in her cheeks. David arched an eyebrow but her attention had already shifted back to the book in front of her.

"You and me both," David muttered. He let his comment hang in the air as he returned to scribbling notes. After a few moments, he felt eyes on him and looked up. Maggie was watching him and looked serious.

"What was your first time like?" she asked, her bottle-green eyes intent on him.

"Awful and great. Terrifying and exhilarating. I guess what you'd expect. How was yours?"

"I don't really remember much about it. Except that I cried after," she blurted and avoided David's gaze. "It wasn't even painful."

"Why then?" David understood that this was a particularly delicate topic of conversation, but he felt at once protective and concerned.

"I wondered about that for a long time. For a while, I thought it was just because it was an emotional experience. And it was. But these days I don't know. I don't know why I cried." She smiled at him abruptly. "Jesus. A little late night wine and you get an earful." She'd certainly fooled around before dating Rafael, but he had been her first. Despite the drink, Maggie couldn't yet muster the courage to confess to David that she had a fiancé.

"I'm willing to hear whatever you have to share, you know."

"Oh, David, don't encourage me." He felt a quick, inexplicable thrill at the sound of his name coming from her lips. "If we keep going like this, you'll know all my secrets before sunrise."

"Is there a downside to that?"

She smiled coyly. "Maybe not."

"Tell me something about you."

"Does it have to be a secret?"

"Not if you don't want it to be," he acquiesced. "Tell me anything." Maggie was thoughtful for a few moments and meditated on the tabletop. She perked up when she had something to share.

"Well, growing up, I loved movies. I told everyone that I wanted to be a waitress one day. I thought that's how you became an actress. Embarrassed my parents every time." David smiled at this and leaned back in his chair, letting the book in front of him shut. He was too buzzed to do anymore work, too interested in what Maggie might confess.

"What happened to that plan?"

"I grew out of it. I forgot about it. It seemed so impractical. And I was really drawn to anthropology. To 'academia.' I think I'm better suited for it."

"I don't know what your acting is like, but you've certainly got the look. You're beautiful." Maggie fidgeted and blushed a lovely dawn pink.

"What about you? What's something about you?" she asked, hoping to shift the focus off her.

"I was a cop before I became a professor."

David almost looked bored. Maggie jumped a little in her seat and her hands went flying, nearly knocking her glass over. She couldn't believe it. "I knew it!"

"You got me."

"But I knew it when we met! Why didn't you confess when I guessed?"

"Correction: you almost got me. You thought army or marine, not police." Maggie shook her head.

"You're awful. I wish you would have said something."

"Don't feel too bad. I graduated the academy, and I was a cop for less than a year. I barely remember it. Plus, if I'd told you I used to be a cop when you thought marine, it would have seemed like I was bragging."

"All right. So why did you quit? How do you make the jump from cop to professor?"

"Law enforcement is a family profession. My dad and uncle and grandfather were all cops. My brother became a cop. So it was expected of me, but I wasn't cut out for it. I had the nerves for it, probably, but I was bored. I'd taken anthropology classes before and couldn't get it out of my head. So I quit and went back to school."

"How'd your family feel about that?"

"My dad told me it wasn't a big deal to him, that I should do what made me happy, but I could tell it upset him. He's a tough guy. Stoic. Would never let on feeling otherwise."

"Sounds familiar. My dad wore sunglasses the day we went shopping for my wedding dress," she shared, cringing as soon as the words had left her mouth.

"Wedding dress?" David echoed. The look on his face was inscrutable, as stoic as his father must look, she imagined. But the hurt in his eyes was unmistakable.

"Yeah." She sounded meeker than she wanted to.

"You're married?"

She sighed, unable to meet his eyes. "Engaged."

"Was there a particular reason you hadn't mentioned this before?" Maggie had known David's reaction wouldn't exactly be positive, but she hadn't expected the edge of anger she heard in his voice.

"It just hadn't really come up," she explained weakly. "And I didn't think it was relevant." The truth was, she hadn't wanted to tell him, had been avoiding it for as long as she could without having to lie outright.

"Not relevant?" David caught himself, breathed deeply in an attempt to dispel his anger. "It couldn't have maybe come up during our discussion of my research topic?"

"How is knowing about my fiancé pertinent to my employment?" But Maggie knew. Maggie had known, in the way women usually do -- whether or not they were able to admit it to themselves -- that David's interest went beyond professional. She couldn't deny that she had lied by omission. She also couldn't deny that she hadn't wanted to lose David's interest, that he had maybe piqued hers, and this was the most inexplicable and troubling of all.

"What about when I told you about my divorce?" he said, quieter now.

"I'm sorry. You're right." But she couldn't bring herself to explain why she'd hid her engagement from him, though she had the uneasy feeling she didn't have to, that he already understood.

David knew that if he continued to berate her, he would lose his temper. He would betray his feelings and alienate Maggie in the process. He tried a gentler approach. "Is it rude for me to say that you seem a little young?"

The slightest change in subject was enough to prompt a sigh of relief from Maggie. "Twenty-four isn't so young, is it?"

"I guess not, no. Relative to me, though, maybe," he murmured, almost as an afterthought. "When's the wedding?" He folded his arms, and the gesture was not lost on Maggie.

"Valentine's Day." She frowned. "With a Valentine's theme to go with it. Not my idea."

"His idea to have a 'cutesy' wedding? That's unusual."

"He's a little more traditional than I am, I guess."

Maggie had to admit to herself that her reasons for not wanting to tell David about her fiancé were not so inexplicable. It was dangerous, the way she was starting to look at David. She couldn't remember a time that Rafael had ever made her feel this way: electric, ecstatic, off-balance.

"Why don't you wear your ring?" David asked, glancing over at her bare left hand.

"I guess I'm just not used to wearing jewelry. I'm worried I'll scratch it up or lose it. I should wear it more often, it bugs Rafael when I don't." Maggie realized that, to David, this would be a telltale sign of her ambivalence. And maybe David would be right, that there was a reason deeper than the flimsy excuse she'd given him.

Annoyance at Maggie for not wearing her ring was something David had in common with Rafael. Maybe if he hadn't tried to be her employer first, this essential tidbit of information would have come out sooner. He felt dejected, that was true, but he had to wonder why it had taken her so long to tell him. Why she acted as if she'd just confessed to murder when she'd finally informed him.

Maggie was the first to speak after a long, tortuous silence. "I guess I should get going."

"Sure. That about wraps it up for us, I think."

Something in his voice made her stop. "You mean for tonight? Or altogether?"

"Intersession ends Friday. The Abbots will be back even sooner than that. I think you've helped me as much as you can, and you'd probably like to get serious about your job search." David's anger turned inward at this point. He knew that he was being childish and obvious, but he was drunk and, the fact was, the belated news of her engagement was more devastating than he could have ever imagined it to be.

"Yeah," Maggie agreed, too drunk to argue, submitting to David's dismissal. "You're right. I have some interviews coming up, and I'll need time for that." The pair rose from their seats, and Maggie walked to the door, David following closely behind. He gave her a perfunctory, uncomfortable hug, then watched her walk to her bike. He was too drunk and too hurt to offer to walk her home, and his guilt over this would be the first thing on his mind when he woke the next morning, hung-over and bereft.

*

Maggie disappeared for three days. David was too proud to call her, and he imagined that she was too disinterested to call him. In his better moments, he chalked her silence up to embarrassment and regret.

When she finally turned up, she opted to pay him a visit rather than call. He knew as soon as he heard the knock on his door that it would be her. He opened the door to find her there on his porch, beaming and shivering in a drizzle.

"David, sorry I stopped in uninvited, I know I'm being pretty rude and you haven't heard from me for a few days, but I'll only take a minute. I just had to tell someone. I was offered a job teaching life science and anatomy at a public school in the city. The money's not insane but it's nothing to sneeze at, you know? So, once this house-sitting gig is over, I'll be moving into a place I can actually afford. Anyway, I'm sorry, I'm rambling. It just happened so fast. I interviewed yesterday, and I just got the call."

"That's great, Maggie," David managed to force out. He brought her in for a hug as he felt the dull throb of longing build in him, soft as she was in her oversize burgundy sweater and smelling like strawberries and spice. "Why don't you come in?"

"Oh, I couldn't, it's getting late and I've already imposed."

"Maggie, please. We'll celebrate. I was just about to open a bottle of wine anyway." He waited a moment, but she still looked uncertain. She wanted to sit with him, talk with him, but she wasn't sure another night of drinking was in their best interest. "Look, if you don't help me, I'll polish it off all by myself." His eyes seemed to plead with her.

"Well, all right." David guided her inside with his hand at the small of her back. The living room was dim, with only one lamp lit and the fireplace blazing. Two couches faced each other with a table between them, and Maggie took a seat on the side of the couch nearest to the fireplace. David disappeared for a moment and returned with the bottle and two glasses. He sidled up next to her and poured her glass with care. She took it gingerly and tried not to gulp down her first taste, nervous as she was to be so close to him.

He wore only a heather-gray raglan sweatshirt and matching sweatpants. The material was thin and gave her a very good idea of the shape of sinew that lay beneath. They sat together in silence for a long time, sipping their wine.

Maggie broke the silence. "Have you done any work these past few days?"

"Not much," he answered frankly. "I wanted to take a break. It's all we've been doing."

"Oh. You make it sound tedious." Maggie felt inexplicably offended. "I thought you enjoyed it?"

"I do. It's helped me a lot. In a way, it's saved my life. But, you know, everything in moderation."

"It saved your life? How do you mean?"

His answer was blunt. "I almost had a breakdown after my divorce." She was stunned, and then regretful. There it was again, she thought. The pattern she had always followed: always listening, never sharing. David had told her so much, and she, like always, couldn't bring herself to express any of her feelings. And how important that was.

"Oh." It was the only response that she could manage.

"I know that sounds dramatic, especially since I was never really in love with Deborah. But a divorce is huge. Everything changed, and my life became unrecognizable. My depression was debilitating. That project was the only thing that gave my life meaning for a long time." They were quiet again, so quiet that Maggie imagined she could hear his heartbeat. She wanted nothing more in that moment than to hold David, but the boldest move that she could manage was to inch closer to him, side to side now, their legs barely touching though she could feel his body heat emanating through his clothes.

David interrupted her thoughts, which had taken a lustful turn. "I haven't made you uncomfortable, have I?"

"Oh, no! It's just that everything I want to say doesn't seem quite right. It would sound insincere or corny and I don't want that." David nodded, feeling reassured.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Shoot."

"Why did it take you so long to tell me about your fiancé? I've given it a lot of thought and just can't figure it out." A white lie, he thought. He had his suspicions but wanted to hear them confirmed.

"I guess I'm not sure." David frowned at her and shook his head. Maggie already understood that her answer was unacceptable. She bit her lip and confessed, "The truth is, I liked you. You seemed to like me. I knew that the moment I told you, you would lose interest. Something would change. It was so selfish, and it was wrong, but that's why I did it."

"But the problem is, I haven't lost interest."

"I'm sorry, David."

"Why are you getting married?" The question shook Maggie. It had been the one haunting her since she'd met David, she knew. It was the question that had been keeping her from sleep, from any kind of peace.

"I love Rafael." But she loved him the way David had loved Deborah. With warmth, not heat.

"I know I can't push you to do anything you don't want to do. I have a lot to say to you that you don't want to hear. But I do want to say this. I think there's something here, between us. I think it's promising. And it's not too late."

Maggie was dizzy with these revelations. They weren't really revelations at all, though: she had known them all along. It was just the first time either of them had had the courage to say it.

"I don't know. I should go home. I'm exhausted, and I'm drunk. This isn't the time."

"But it's pouring outside now," David objected. "You're not walking home alone, and I'm too tired and drunk myself to walk with you, let alone drive."

She realized the implication of what he said. "I can't sleep here."