Chapter One
Richard Marsh took off his glasses and tossed them on the pile of papers, on his desk. He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. A glance at the clock revealed that it was three AM. It had been a long night grading mid-term papers. There were still over a dozen left in the stack to be graded. Richard was tempted to call it a night and go to bed, but he couldn't. He was required to post all mid-semester grades and student evaluations into the college's computer records system by five PM. For a minute, he regretted the tough twenty page thesis paper he had assigned his students because of the time involved in grading them. It was only a brief flash, if he was demanding and set high standards, he did it with his student's benefit in mind. He pushed them relentlessly to produce the best work they could. In turn, his student's enthusiasm to learn was his motivation when fatigue threatened to engulf him. Richard felt validated by his work as a college professor. His private life offered no such validation. In fact, it was a disaster. The interaction he had with his students and fellow faculty members was all that staved off loneliness and the near depression that weighed him down, at the end of each day. The hour and fifteen minute drive, from the college to his home, seemed endless. Made more so by coming home to an empty house. It hadn't always been that way. Years ago, his wife had been there with a welcoming kiss. His children had been there with hugs and "Hi, Daddy!" greetings.
Now, the children were gone. They had homes and families of their own, now. Vicki, his loving wife, had lost a valiant battle with cancer , leaving him a widower. The pain of losing her had led to a distrust of personal involvement. He didn't date and rarely went out socially except to teach and do routine errands. He was aloof and distant with an air of an academic recluse, to those who knew him.
Richard replaced the glasses, with a sigh, and picked up the next paper. He quickly scanned the title page. "I'm Not Salome" He read the title of the paper aloud, without realizing it. His voice was a deep baritone, slightly hoarse from too many cheap cigars and too much expensive Scotch.
"Margaret Ray. Margaret Ray." He repeated the author's name with the hint of a smile. As he turned the page, he leaned back in his chair to read.
Margaret Ray was one of the most intelligent, gifted students he had ever met in his career. She wasn't your typical college senior. Margaret was a returning adult student, in her late thirties or early forties. She was one of few students with a perfect 4.0 GPA. A remarkable feat considering she was a full-time student, worked full-time, and had a husband and two young children at home. To date, Margaret had been the only student he'd ever had that was willing to challenge some of his theories and opinions. While he didn't agree with her positions, he had to admit she backed up her arguments with solid data and stood her ground. Class discussions came alive with her in the room. Margaret could easily become a dynamic lecturer and educator, but her major was in a healthcare field. Why she had chosen to be little more than a medical secretary, Richard did not know. In fact, he knew very little at all about Margaret, except what he had gleaned from her student file, essays, and his own observations. She rarely talked about her personal life and did not socialize with the other students, as far as he knew.
As he skimmed the first page of her paper, Richard realized that this paper was a far cry from Margaret's usual academic fare. She had taken the more challenging creative option of the assignment instead of the strictly academic one. Every year, he had offered student's the option of submitting a personal narrative essay in lieu of one academic paper. As most student's felt that personal narratives were harder to write, he rarely had the opportunity to read one.
Going back to the beginning, he started paying more attention to her words. As he started to learn more about her, he began to draw a mental picture of her inside his head. Margaret was no beauty. She was rather plain. She was short and obese. Probably over three hundred pounds. Margaret wore glasses and was often clad in all black. In fact, he didn't remember ever seeing her wear anything colorful. She didn't wear makeup and didn't wear any jewelry, except for a simple silver wedding band. Her red hair was short, thin and touched with gray. Often, he would catch a sad expression on her face. Richard remembered wondering what caused the sadness. Her smiles were rare, but when she smiled, her eyes danced. It was her eyes that made her memorable. Bright blue pools that reflected the light and lit up her face.
As Richard read her words., he grew to know more about her. Margaret's narrative essay revealed a lot, perhaps more than she had intended. As the hour grew later, he continued to read her story.
Margaret's words powerfully drew his interest, compelling him to read the entire paper. When he finished reading, Richard set the paper, on the desk. He picked up a pen intending to write some comments, but put the pen down without writing anything. There were so many things he wanted to say, but he wasn't sure if he should say them. Richard lit a cigar, poured some more Scotch, and leaned back in his chair to think. His fatigue rapidly caught up with him and he drifted into a dream.
Chapter Two
The next day, Richard looked up, as the door of the classroom opened. As usual, Margaret was the first to arrive.
"Good afternoon, Professor Marsh."
"Good afternoon. How was your weekend?" Richard returned her greeting.
Margaret placed her laptop case and a stack of books on the desk. Her answer was an almost snap.
"Busy, as usual."
"Must of been pretty bad, you sound like you are mad at the world. We have a few minutes if you'd care to talk about it."
The sound was slight, but Richard thought he heard her sigh, as she placed her coat, on the back of her chair. She gave a short, almost sarcastic laugh. "I'm not mad at the world, yet."
Richard didn't hear the comment. He was too distracted by the bright red satin blouse she wore. The bright color and sensuous fabric was definitely not her normal attire. It was low cut, revealing a lot of her chest. The fabric clung tightly to her large breasts. A string of pearls dangled against her cleavage. She wore the blouse with a black skirt that ended just above the knee. The skirt was much shorter than the ankle length ones he had seen her wear before. What looked like silk stockings covered her legs. She wore a pair of black high heels with the outfit. Much different from the sensible footwear she normally favored.
When she turned to face him, he noticed that she was wearing makeup, something she normally didn't wear to class. She had also curled her hair and wore it styled in such a way that it looked softer and prettier. Margaret looked better than he'd ever seen her, today.
"You're dressed up, today. Special occasion? " He asked.
The familiar sad look crept across her face. "Well, it was."
"Was?"
"Today's my birthday. I thought my husband might take me out to lunch."
"Happy birthday. I take it he didn't take you out for lunch."
"No. He forgot, as usual. He took his mother to the casino for Senior Bingo." Margaret open her laptop, but continued to speak. "I don't know why I thought today would be any different."
"Too bad he forgot."
"I guess I shouldn't let it bother me so much." She added.
"Why shouldn't it bother you? It would have bothered me, if my wife had ever forgot my birthday." In thirty- five years of marriage, Vicki had never forgot his birthday , nor had he forgotten hers. In fact, he still left a dozen roses for her, on her birthday, at the cemetery. He couldn't imagine just forgetting a loved one's birthday. He found his gaze drifting back over Margaret, again. Damn, she looked really good, today, Richard thought. He wondered if her hair was as soft to the touch as it looked.
Other students started to arrive and Margaret didn't answer. Richard decided he would offer to treat Margaret to a cup of coffee, after class, for her birthday. Maybe it would cheer her up a bit.
A few minutes later, as he began the lecture, Richard noticed a male student casting some glances Margaret's way. She's old enough to be your mother, kid, he thought to himself. He frowned, when he noticed the guy lean over and tap her on the shoulder. Richard saw her turn slightly and listen to something the guy said. Margaret blushed and whispered something back, then turned around. Richard wondered what the guy had said. If he was bothering her, he would ask him to leave.
"Mrs. Ray, is Mr. Jones bothering you?" He asked.
Margaret seemed surprised by the question.
"Not really." She answered, but her tone was a bit strange. She almost giggled, he thought.
Richard went back to the lecture. He taught almost on automatic pilot, as his thoughts drifted.He thought about Margaret, once again. His mind drifted back to some of the things she had written about, in her personal narrative.
Margaret had written about being offered a work study position as a professor's assistant. She mentioned how she felt that she had to turn down the position because no one realized who she really was. She commented that her academic merit and many successes were merely a mask that people did not see through. Margaret wrote that she wasn't the wonderful person people, at the college ,thought she was. Margaret considered herself a failure as a woman.
She had plenty of reason for the lack of self confidence. Her disaster of a marriage and poor relationship with her husband were,obviously, to blame for that. She hadn't come right out and admitted it, but Richard suspected that Margaret's husband was verbally and emotionally abusive. There were a lot of things, in her essay, that hinted at it. Despite what you think, Margaret, you are far from a failure as a woman, Richard thought. His eyes once again drifted over her ample breasts.
Richard planned to ask Margaret about some of the things in her essay, while they had coffee, if she accepted his invitation. As class was ending, Richard asked Margaret if she would stay behind for a couple of minutes, as he wanted to discuss her essay. She agreed. When the last student had left, she stood and walked up to his desk. Richard tried hard to keep from staring at the jiggle of her breasts and slight sway of her hips as she walked.
"I need a cup of coffee." Richard said. " Care to join me for one in the coffee shop? We can talk about your essay there. "
"Sure. Let me get my things." Margaret walked back to collect them. Richard grabbed his briefcase and followed.
