The Asrt Teacher

The Art Teacher

Thom was my first love.

“Hi guys, the names Mr. O’Neill, I’m your teacher for this course.” He was tall, with brown eyes, brown hair and a way of standing that I’d never seen before. Our art project that year? Self portrait. I was happy with that. I could finally express myself, without that sense of self doubt I’d felt years before. The art trip was what started the rest of my life.

“So I haven’t really got to know you yet.” He said as we waited for the train to come.

“I guess so.” I said. “Why would you want to sir, I’m your student?”

“I don’t know, I just like to feel, close with my students. Especially the dedicated ones” He said. We were going to the National Art Gallery in London. I was wearing the same shoes I wore everyday. The rubber scuffed the train seat as I sat.

“How was your day then? The reunions this weekend isn’t it?” Rob says as he sits next to me, loosening his tie. Doing that strange thing with his glass. Tilting it to and fro.

“It was fine. And yeah, yeah it is.” I turn away and mildly focus on the news. There’s a fire in Moscow, but I’m really not too concerned.

“So, you really like art then?” he said. I thought this was a very stupid question. I was the only one in my class who cared enough to bring a pencil.

“You’re so gifted, you know that don’t you?” he said.

“Gifted? Alone, sir.” I said.

“You’re not alone. I’m standing next to you aren’t I?” he said. Eventually.

“That doesn’t mean I’m not alone does it? I could be standing in that crowd over there and I’d feel like I was the only person.” I said. I coughed as I looked out to the horizon. The window was so dirty, where were the people that cleaned them? Was there a person? I was thinking too much. A small plastic bag flew around on the tracks, I was gripped.

“We’re gonna be late, babe. Hurry up.” Rob was wearing that brown jacket that I absolutely hated, but I wasn’t worried enough to make him change. The reunion was tonight. I was hoping Thom would be there but I never told myself that. The best moments of my life were with him, feeling love for the very first time. We walked to the cab, got in and I sat staring out towards the houses that went past. This was my life now, I wasn’t going back.

I remember the first time he kissed me. It’d never happened before, with anyone. Shocked? I couldn’t breathe. But regardless, it was amazing. I remember everything down to the twitch his nose made when he pulled away and the way he breathed inwards as our lips touched.

“Thom, I’m sorry. I don’t know how to kiss; I’ve never done it before.” I said.

“Do I care? I’m with you. That’s all that matters.” He said.

I remember it second by second. Days went on and Thom and I found it harder being in the same classroom together. We never went beyond kissing. Until that Thursday afternoon.

I was wearing a trouser suit, sort of thing from the little shop Rob’s sister owned. It was the only purple suit I had, I wanted to show off. It was nice, not too nice, but just right for this sort of occasion. I walked into the venue, holding Rob’s sweaty hand and an old song was playing that both Thom and I hated.

My mother and I had fought and fought for hours. I couldn’t blame her. I was totally in some sort of wrong, but I didn’t care. I wasn’t alone anymore.

I left, walked a very long way in the rain and turned up at Thom’s flat. It’d been months and we were like Romeo and Juliet, in the most clichйd way.

The smell of rain was vapouring off of me and I felt sick. He was there though, holding me. We worked on my final piece for my project and we finally finished it. We’d changed the idea. It was a simple photo of me, blurred so you could only see my outline and hair and neck. My name was inscribed at the bottom and that was that. It felt as though, because I’d finished my piece, my relationship was over. But it wasn’t. Like in a movie where one thing leads to another, it led to another.

“Come on, I’ll show you my bedroom.” Thom said. He was never usually that forward.

“Sarah!”