The Professor and the Vagrant Ch. 01

I could not stop myself from glaring at him.

"Of course. Is how I look not obvious enough?" I asked.

I tried to speak in that indifferent cool voice too.

"So professor, how do you look like?" He asked, with a hint of a smile on his lips.

"Are you blind?" I shot back.

I felt like roles were reversed. His scarred and welted face were an obvious distraction when people looked at him. That was the first thing everyone noticed about him. Yet now he was making this about me.

Still I had noticed his amber eyes before I noticed his scars. I must be the weird one then.

Perhaps it should not have come as a surprise to me that I was the black sheep everywhere I went. The concept of home was an illusion for me. His eyes had made me think of a home somewhere in which I could be belong because we were both strange creatures.

"Remember professor, you sought me. Humour me." He said.

His voice was getting more languid by the second.

"Plain and inconspicuous." I said.

He arched his chin up and smiled me a crooked smile.

"If you are as plain and inconspicuous as you say you are, how can you stand out like a sore thumb?" He asked.

I felt blood rise to my cheeks. A fleeting thought crossed my mind. I had not known before that I could be both fuming mad and blushing hard at the same time.

"It's my ethnicity and height which obviously caught your attention, not anything else." I said.

"Many tourists come and go, and the colour of their skin is nothing but colours which blend into the background. Lots of people stand at your height, and I do not care less." He retorted back.

So he had a queer eye for picking out someone like me.

"Okay. I was wrong. You do not stare aimlessly into space all the time. You managed to pick me out from the crowd." I said, in a huff and puff.

He smiled a half smile. This man was still not satisfied with my admission of error, which was equivalent to an apology from me.

"You hardly get the point." He said.

"It is not my concern and I could not care less. I don't even know why I bother to explain to you." I said.

Being mad and flustered were very new feelings to me. I felt this feeling as a prickly stone which pounded in my chest erratically. I felt like wringing his neck to get him to see a semblance of sense.

"Do you not consider yourself an attractive woman?" He asked.

He shuffled the chair closer to me until his knees were gently grazing mine. This barely there fleeting pressure sent shivers to my spine. I must have been very cold. I thanked God that the plaids were there. I figured that without this man's interference, I would have found the plaids myself.

I shifted my position in the chair so that my knees were the furthest they were from his. At the same time, I tightened the blankets around my chest.

"Well, professor?" He asked.

I stared at him, mesmerized by the beckoning amber which arose in his eyes again.

"Whether or not I consider myself attractive has nothing to do with the reason I have sought you." I said.

My voice was softer than I wanted it to be. Maybe the storm was pelting harder and belting out all its wrath in a din beyond the church walls.

"I think I must have noticed you because you are unconventionally attractive. You have the gaze of the world about you." He said, as he had promulgated when we were outside the church.

His definition of the gaze of the world fleeted into my mind. I attempted to deconstruct his impromptu concept. Someone who knows about why and how things happen. This was the past; of course we construct rationalizations to explain the outcome. It was only human to do so. History was only analyzed after the passing of events.

Now my presumed knowledge about what was going to happen. My take was that based on why and how things happen, we could predict the future by analyzing concrete facts of the past. I did not consider these attractive qualities at all, but rather life principles.

The reality was I considered myself wholly unattractive; in all spectrums possible. I did not have beauty nor did I have an attractive personality which drew people to me in droves. All I had was my intellect; and that was hard-earned. I was never very academic, but I slogged all the way through university by studying very hard. I had never told anyone that I believed I was initially granted tenure because of a lack of suitable candidates. The pool comprised only of me and another who tragically met her death before the selection decision was made public.

I was brought back to how she died. It doused me entirely. I thought of the past; pulled back by drowning currents. I yielded and was lost.

"Professor." He said.

He shook my body. I was found again. I jolted back to the lushness of those indiscernible amber eyes. I saw that he held the plaids in his arms. I had not noticed that the plaids had ceased to be wrapped around me. He draped them over me gently; so unlike the time he flung his coat on me.

"Thank you." I said.

I began to take the blankets from him. His hands got in the way and I could swear that my heart almost jumped out of the confines of my chest. What rough, callous hands; how strangely warm too; how disturbing really and what a distraction! However it was a good distraction for I did not think of death again.

Now he had a clear look about him as though he was observing a specimen under a microscope.

"Was it something I said?" He asked.

I looked at him with perturbed eyes. My heart was thumping wildly.

I shook my head.

"Do you not know how to take a compliment when it is due?" He asked.

His voice was gradually getting huskier by the second. He was clearly in one of those shifty moods again where he cannot decide how he wanted to engage with me.

"What compliment?" I asked.

I hoped that my voice did not betray my more turbulent emotions of unease.

"For whatever it's worth to you, I do consider you an attractive woman." He said then.

His eyes gently locked onto mine while I looked at him incredulously.

"That's not what I want to hear and that's not what you should be saying." I said.

"Why not?" He asked.

His voice was purposely kept low.

"You don't mean a word you say. And I am not vain nor insecure enough to crave hearing that I am an attractive woman." I said.

"Even if most men would be attracted to you?" He asked.

"But you do not know what most men think." I said quite bluntly.

"I know how I think." He said.

Amber eyes yielded to me now and I felt a rush of something churn through my entire body. It must be getting really stuffy in here to the extent that it was compromising my senses.

I did not say anything nor did he. Moments passed us by in eerie silence. We heard the muted but ferocious storm through the ancient stone structures of the church. I heard his deep breathing and he must have heard mine. I pulled and squeezed at my fingers; not really sure what to say anymore.

"I find it odd that you do not believe a word I say." He said.

His eyes never left mine. He was being very patient, but I detected an annoyance in his voice. To be honest, I would have been annoyed with myself too for not being competent enough to cut to the chase.

"Thank you for thinking highly of me." I said then, out of courtesy.

Still, he had been right. I had not believed a word he said. I did not believe that he found me attractive. He was a great flirt; a loner or whatever he was, I did not care.

"Pray, in seeking me, what was your intention? I am a good for nothing vagrant. I am homeless, and later tonight when this bloody hailstorm subsides, I will sleep at the train station." He said.

He arched up his eyebrows; challenging me to flee.

"That's good." I said.

"That's good?" He repeated incredulously.

"It is much warmer at the station compared to this cold brick church. The station comes equipped with better heating." I said.

I thought of my jittery reactions in the church so far. The wretched stuffiness and cold was intolerable because it compromised my senses. If we have had this conversation at the train station, perhaps the outcome would have been different simply because I was not freezing.

He suddenly smiled.

"It is rush hour now. The station is packed, so I normally wait it out a bit in this quiet church yard. And I saw you, coming here every day for the past week." He said.

I smiled at his ingenuity. He reminded me of someone; a long time ago; with plain brown eyes, but sought little secrets that were common knowledge here and there to make life bearable until she could not keep up with it. Life had lost its magic for her.

"Professor, I believe an introduction from my side is warranted. I am Noah." He said, looking solemn now.

He finally told me his name. It was about time.

"Like the Noah who saves all the animals in his Ark?" I asked.

He chuckled.

"Yes, but only in name. I save no one except myself." He said.

"My name is Violet." I said.

Our gazes locked. Amber eyes burned into mine.

"Like the flower which is love and purity?" He asked, with a kind smile.

"Yes, but only in name. I do not love nor am I pure." I said, parroting what he said about his name.

He smiled that kind smile again.

I gazed at him briefly, before lowering my eyes to the stone floor. Yet I felt this was not how I wanted to present myself. I had to ooze out more confidence befitting of a professor. Thus I faced him again. All this while, it seemed that his amber eyes had latched onto mine like a finger to a nail.

I dug my nails deeper into my palms at this thought.

Those eyes were not mesmerized by me. In fact, it was that very same undecipherable emotion in the vortex of his eyes which caused me unease.

I had to say something because the silence was unbearable. Making the same mistake twice was a deadly sin. I always learned from my mistakes.

"The nave of the church is thought to represent Noah's ark." I said, looking around the nave behind him.

He appeared amused at my statement.

"The word nave is derived from the Latin navis. It means ship. The same way Noah saved the animals, the church is the place where refuge is offered from the storm of God's judgment." I continued, feeling that I had to say something intelligent if it was a universal fact that cutting to the chase really took longer than expected.

"Do you also double up as a professor in theology, Violet?" He asked.

He smiled at me warmly until I was flabbergasted. I could not understand his erratic change of behaviour. He went from the whole range of emotions; from disinterest to annoyance and from kindness to amusement. And perhaps a fleeting concern for my wellbeing. Maybe it all came naturally to him. But surely he was a mismatch of sorts. He never displayed any stable, regular emotion which stuck on.

"No. I am a professor of literature with my current key research area on Tang dynasty poetry." I said seriously.

"I see." He said.

He held my gaze seriously now.

"I am writing a joint research paper with my colleagues here reconciling Tang poetry with Anglo-Saxon poetry in the context of foreign relations and culture. We are looking at the issue from the common shared goal of peace." I said.

I tried speaking about my research paper in a general way because when I spoke outside academia, most people seemed too polite to question anything. This prompted me to wonder if I bored them or if the subject matter was all Greek to them.

"Is there a questionnaire you would like me to fill up or something like that?" He asked finally, trying hard to guess what was on my mind.

I shook my head.

"I want to make you a proposition. I hope that the offer is good enough and that you would accept." I said.

I tried to speak calmly but I was getting jittery by the second, partly due to the growing curiosity on his face.

"Before you say that, take a good look at me." He said.

His voice had gone notches lower and his eyes commanded my full attention.

I noticed how the raised welts on his face became whiter than it already was.

"I am looking at you right now." I said.

"Tell me what you see." He said.

"I see you as you are; with your scars and welts. They do not bother me." I said.

It was true. I had noticed his eyes; how they seemed to burn with each gaze he took. I could not explain this pull his eyes had over me to the extent that I was willing to overlook everything else.

A good-looking man; attractive in every sense of the word would have been a better choice. A wealthy man who offered not only companionship but security, was every woman's dream. Ideally he should possess an identifiable career as well. I had been drilled into these concepts since I was a child. I had barely learnt how to read or write yet. It was a materialistic and competitive society, but also one with regard to filial piety and responsibilities towards the family.

His expression did not change as he raised his pullover sweater above his head. As he did so, I saw similar welts from his right palm right up to his elbow. I had not noticed them before.

"How about this?" He asked.

"So your scars extend to your hands as well." I said.

He nodded.

You said that you were injured in a fire eight years ago. Are you still in pain?" I asked.

He smiled the smile of a paramour before answering me.

"No, professor. I am not in pain." He said.

"You want me to see the extent of your injury. Why?" I said, more to myself than to him.

"I do, so that you know what you are getting into." He said, his voice low and husky.

"I don't need to know about any other physical imperfections." I said.

I could not comprehend why my spirit burst out with nonsense. It was not an intelligent reply. The more I knew, the better it was for me to make plans.

"Why?" He asked.

He practically breathed out the words.

"Because I had already chosen you. I knew from the moment..." I said.

Amber eyes drained mine of serendipity, causing me to jump out of my skin.

I paused midway. Now I was too spontaneous. I was never speaking at the right pace when it came to him. The pace of speaking was important when with my students. I told myself to treat him like a twenty year old party-crazy teenager.

He placed his scarred palm onto mine. I felt the roughness of his raised welts against my skin.

"Please, do continue." He said, urging me on.

I deliberated on my words.

"What I meant to say was that I thought you had all the perfect qualities I was looking for in a candidate." I said.

"The scars of a beast..." He said.

It was more of a grunt than anything else.

"If that's what you call it, then yes. The scars are quite distinct on you." I said.

He was silent for a bit. His expression was hard to read.

"From what moment did you know that I was the chosen candidate, professor?" He asked.

His voice was silky smooth but it was all an act of pretence. He attempted to bridge back my initial impromptu thoughts.

I moistened my lips. I did not want him to think that I was pretentious but I did want honesty from him so I should be honest myself.

"From the moment I saw you in the church yard. There was something about your eyes which made me feel..." I said.

I admitted that I could not find the right words.

"Feel what?" He asked, his voice low and mysterious.

"...that you would understand me." I continued.

I could not help but look at him in trepidation. He in turn took me in his entirety without saying a word. Not a word was uttered until the bells in the church tower chimed seven in the evening.

"Whether I understand you or not, professor, remains to be seen." He said, in a low voice.

I nodded in understanding.

"Then hear me out." I said.

"What can I do for you?" He asked.

I gulped. Explaining my idiotic state of affairs was always difficult.

"For the past five years, I have been telling everyone I know that I have a lover abroad. I just didn't want them setting me up with all sorts of men. I told them that I was in a long-distance relationship." I said.

"I see." He said, in a terse voice.

"By the standards of my conservative town, I am not considered young anymore. Because I am unmarried, there is a high probability that this would affect my chances of being promoted to Head of Faculty in Literature. I do want the position and I do want to be judged on equal grounds with my married counterparts." I said.

And I did want the position badly. If there is one area I could succeed magnificently in, it would be my career. All my life I had worked for it. I deserved Head of Faculty. I was the hardest worker the university could ever get. When I was not occupied with teaching, I plunged myself into research. I even had five authoritative textbooks published so far in a span of ten years. That must mean something.

I went on slowly. I did not face him. It seemed easier to talk when I was facing the ancient, greyish statue of the Archangel Gabriel which was across the pew.

Not to mention that it was painful to talk about this, because I felt ashamed and that there was something wrong with me because I was unmarried. I would not disclose that just yet because it did not concern him and pity was something I would rather not have.

'I don't see how anything you said concerns me unless..." He said, in that silky voice of his.

The tone of his voice had changed again into forced smoothness.

Amber eyes gripped plain, brown ones.

"You want me to play the part of your lover." He said.

His voice reverberated unassumingly but steadily through the passageway of the pew.

Amber eyes coursed through mine then, seeking to deliberate on my proposal. I felt powerless internally. I was glad that we were two separate beings with distinct feelings. He could not feel me, and I could not feel him. If we could have felt each other, I would have died of shame.

"My lover, only with your consent." I said, in a soft voice.

I blinked into his eyes which were suddenly full of light.

"You will be more than adequately rewarded." I continued.

I told him the sum that I was prepared to offer him if he agreed to be with me for the next six months in addition to half my monthly salary which would go to him every month for that duration. I did not know if it was a desperate move or otherwise because I had been willing to part with a significant portion of my life savings. I told myself that all said and done, money was superfluous. I was living testimony to it. Still I would have hated to go poor again.

"You will be required to live with me abroad in my home country. Your accommodation and living expenses will be borne by me. After six months, we would part amicably and I would see that your travel expenses are paid for to return here." I said.

I spoke in a clear, pedagogic-like tone and I tried to be detached. Like a professor with her students. I did myself some justice here.

"What do you expect out of me as your lover?" He asked.

The hint of curiosity was gone now; his words were a dangerous question which shot out like a gun.

"That you accompany me to family, social and academic functions. In public, you would be required to be by my side; to be seen as giving me moral support." I said.

I awaited his reply with bated breath. My lips felt very dry in this church. What was it with this church?

I could hear the faint patter of rain outside amongst the louder thuds of hailstones on the bricked walls. The wind was howling still; but its sound were decreasing in volume and I wondered if I only imagined the wind.

"You mean I have to be seen to be deeply in love with you?" He asked then; just when I thought the night had been still again.