Too Young

Dear Readers,

Sorry for being away. Hope you'll enjoy something a little different.

—Steve

*****

Part I: The Friday

For the words: "You're too young."

May their shallow depth be recognized.

The day that Professor Jason Argos, MFA, handed back the memoir assignments to his Creative Nonfiction class, Ben Patterson was uneasy. It was unlike Professor Argos to come into class without a word and take his place at the terminal in the front of the room. Especially when his thick fingers pounded on its keys.

Ben watched the man with curiosity, wondering what had the instructor in a foul mood. Were the assignments that bad? He hoped not; Ben spent four days writing his assignment and then editing it until he was certain that he poured every bit of his feelings into his writing. If Professor Argos didn't like it, he knew he'd feel like an idiot.

It wasn't that he was afraid of professors not liking him; he had plenty of those before. At Tilly University in Connecticut, there were plenty of instructors between the English and Creative Arts Departments that had doctorate degrees they felt the need to recognize. Ben was a sophomore and had plenty of them.

But Professor Argos was different, at least Ben thought. Instead of donning the traditional slacks and dress shirts common of the other faculty, Professor Argos spent his time giving classes in jeans and t-shirts. Sometimes in polos if he joked that it was laundry day. He was down to earth, the single trait that made him Ben's favorite professor.

"Alright, I'm not going to lie," Professor Argos's voice broke everyone back to reality. His six foot five figure towered over the first row of desks at the front of the room, grey eyes scanning the faces of his students. "I was taking a look at these memoirs, and they're not good. Well, I guess 'not good' wouldn't be the best way to put it because I think everyone here is a good writer from the stuff you've all turned in so far. But I think that a lot of these either didn't have as much of you put into them as was needed to be successful or read a tiny bit rushed."

Ben was crushed; what was wrong with his piece? He gazed from Professor Argos's eyes to the stack of marked up papers beside his instructor's dog eared copy of

Writing Creative Nonfiction

. He felt the pings of disappointment jabbing at him.

"I know you all have other assignments and that this isn't your only class, guys. But I think we might need to redo these. I'm going to hand them back, and we'll have either a revision of this one or a new one due next Friday." Professor Argos continued. He rubbed the gray whiskers around his mouth with a hairy hand and locked eyes momentarily with Ben. Then he asked, "Are there any questions?"

"Wait, I'm confused. Do you want a brand new memoir piece or the same one just revised?" A girl with buzzed blue hair at the back of the room stared at Argos. Something in Ben made him think she was a senior on coast mode, but he couldn't be sure.

Argos used the same bear-paw like hand to run through his thinning grey-black hair. "It's up to you. Guys, as much as I would love to tell you what the best move would be as far as topic of focus, I want all of you to trust your instincts. You're writers, no matter if you're in school or if you're my age. You have the talent and know what to do with it; so if you want to write a brand new piece with a fresh outlook, go ahead. But if you want to work on this one, that's your decision. You know what's best for your writing."

"That makes no sense, though." Blue Hair looked puzzled.

"How so? When you're out in the real world, you're not going to have me there to tell you if you should rewrite your story or put it aside and work on another. It'll be your career."

The girl, seemingly annoyed, gave up and went back to her cell phone.

Ben's bright blue eyes looked up to Professor Argos again. The grey eyes found him as the man grabbed the stack of papers and handed them out. Argos nodded to him. Ben nodded back and bit his lip.

He felt small; at five foot nine, he was borderline average. But it was knowing that Argos could probably pick him up and throw him if he wanted to that made Ben feel like a child. Even if he wasn't a child.

"Ben, good work," Argos looked down at the red haired student as he neared him. "See me after class."

The student bit his lip and looked at the rugged face of the older man, confused. Although he wondered why his instructor would say it was good if the class was re-doing the assignment, he couldn't find words to speak. He wanted Argos to like him, at least as much as any good student wants their instructor to like them. But he felt nervous about what the man would say and more specifically, about the nakedness he'd feel talking to Argos knowing that he knew everything.

When Argos's gaze kept meeting him as if to read Ben's confusion, he nodded back, then looked down at his memoir assignment.

Old Gay Soul

The title stood out on the paper, with a giant green circle around it and a notion in Professor Argos's sloppy handwriting reading GOOD TITLE. Ben looked over the comments of his assignment, the story of his discovery of his homosexual sexuality, his interest in older men, and how Ben's father came to accept him and his ex-boyfriend of forty-six years of age. While it was longer than the seven page limit, judging by Professor Argos's notions, the man didn't mind. Comments like GREAT LINE and NICE CHARACTERIZATION were littered throughout, along with some comments about possible places to expand the piece.

At the end, Ben also found a notation echoing the words Argos told him before: SEE ME AFTER CLASS.

Ben slowly exhaled, then watched the clock waiting for class to end.

***

By the time that the end of class came, there were two other students ahead of Ben that Professor Argos wished to see. Ben sat and watched the man speak to a girl in a mini skirt about a memoir book she should read. She thanked him and left, practically skipping out of the room from how well she did on her work. The boy after her wanted clarification on what his handwriting read.

Then, when they were gone, Ben slipped his backpack on his shoulders and neared the front of the room where Professor Argos was stuffing his books into his own backpack. He swallowed hard, thinking about what Argos would discuss with him. There were no specifications about the nature of the discussion, only the comment: SEE ME AFTER CLASS, which wasn't any help.

"You wanted to see me?" Ben asked. He approached with caution, uncertain of what would come.

Argos looked up. "Ben. Yeah. Just wanted to congratulate you." He shuffled his papers together and paused, then came around the desk.

Ben nodded, but he didn't speak.

"It was a very good piece; I really enjoyed the tension of being caught in between wanting to tell your father and wanting to keep your relationship secret," Argos crossed his arms and leaned against the desk. "The biggest problem I found with it, though, is that I didn't really believe your motivation for wanting to date an older guy."

"What do you mean?" Ben shifted his slim frame from foot to foot and adjusted the straps on his backpack.

Professor Argos laughed. "Oh, come on, Ben. You talked about how you loved him so much, but you didn't mention what your motivation was. That first attraction. The piece is called 'Old Gay Soul' so what about older men makes you think they're right for you? The way that it reads right now, it sounds like he was way too old for you."

Ben froze. "But I'm not a child."

"I'm not saying you are," Professor Argos held up his hand to stop Ben from continuing. "All I'm saying is that with age comes different experiences and different perspectives; from what I read, I'm not convinced about your point in the piece that you were on his level. Or what motivated you to seek him out as a boyfriend. Or even his motivation to seek you as a boyfriend."

Ben bit his lip and nodded.

Seeing that he offended his student, Argos seemed to backpedal. "Look, I'm sure you're a nice kid—guy," he corrected himself, holding out his hand again. "But I gotta say that, as an older gay man myself, twenty-year-olds aren't really cut out for a relationship with an older man." Argos smiled gently, as if he were trying to diffuse the tension.

"Bullshit." Ben hissed.

"Excuse me?" Argos's eyebrows arched in surprise.

"Bullshit," Ben repeated and swallowed hard as his eyes bore into the taller man.

Argos gave a half-hearted laugh. "That's great; resort to swear words. That really convinces me." The professor went behind the desk again and began gathering his papers.

"Just because you're older doesn't make you wiser. And just because I'm younger doesn't mean I'm not mature enough for anything long term." Ben felt the fury creeping inside of him as he approached the desk.

Argos shook his head. "Just forget it. If you feel you made your point, change or don't change your piece. It's not my writing."

"You're right it's not your writing. And it damn sure wasn't your relationship," Ben stared at the man shuffling papers into his bag. "We were able to talk to one another, about anything like best friends. We were able to share experiences with each other and open each other up to new ones."

The professor looked up at him. "But you were so young and inexperienced. There's so much to a relationship on multiple levels; love doesn't just happen overnight. There's emotional chemistry and passion." Argos shook his head, as if trying to think of examples. "You share hurt, secrets, and..." He paused; Ben could tell the man was struggling for a third example. "Kisses and so much more."

"You really think I'm such an inexperienced little brat from Maryland?" Ben could feel the heat on his cheeks, his hands clenching and unclenching as he rounded the desk.

"Yes," Argos turned to him. His voice was rising with anger now, and Ben could tell he more than crossed the line. "I'm really beginning to."

Ben wouldn't let Argos finish; instead, he grabbed him by his shirt in a fist and yanked the man's mouth to his. The tall professor stumbled, nearly losing his balance as Ben forced their lips together. It was a passionate, angry kiss, Ben's tongue skipping across Professor Argos's lips as his lips sucked on the man's mouth. It only lasted a short moment before Argos regained his bearings and pushed Ben away, but there was a fraction of a second where Ben thought that he was kissing him back.

"Whoa, that is..." Argos laughed and took a step away. "So inappropriate. That's completely out of line."

Ben stared at him with anger and saw Argos clench and unclench a fist. "You're unbelievable."

"Ha!" The professor's voice raised in a growl. "I'm unbelievable?"

"Yes. It must be nice to be some bullshit professor who can go on and on building his students up but doesn't have the balls to look at them like real people."

Argos nodded. "Right. Coming from the child whose only argument was to kiss me! This conversation is over, Benjamin. It's done, finished. Hasta la vista."

Ben's eyes burned red with moisture. He said nothing, then left, his feet falling in hard steps as he ran out of the room and down the hallway. Ben never looked back, but he heard a clatter, like Argos had pounded his fist against the whiteboard.