To the readers who've been following our story -- I'll be adding Lissia's commentary as she is willing to provide it. Her rapier-like wit hides a tender heart that beats inside her. She is going to cringe when she reads this but that's okay. And now back to our story where I had gone to her home on Saturday morning after receiving the good news about the scholarship...
This time we sat on the sofa in the living room. I wasn't wearing my sweaty, dirty, lawn-working clothes and boots. I was well-scrubbed, shaven - refreshed physically and emotionally. Lissia was beautiful in a bright yellow housedress, her hair pulled back; a pencil stuck in her hair over her right ear, no earrings, no lipstick, a complexion that shone and glistened like richly polished walnut, her sweet smile belied the toughness underneath -- our fingers interlaced on the back of the Victorian-style sofa in blush-red velvet. "Steven when you left last night I had a long time to think about what happened...well what I caused to happen...I was selfish...you essentially told me I couldn't have you and I set out to prove you wrong. I tripped myself up and found that I was hoisted upon the petard of my own doing." She slid across the short space that separated us and kissed me.
"I guess I don't know what you mean Lissia."
"Steven my sexual appetite got me into a situation that I thought I could handle easily -- you know a one-night stand kind of thing...I can't do that with you. I need more and I want you right now more than I want anything else...I have no right to ask that of you...I am ashamed but not sorry that I had the pleasure of your loving."
"Lissia, I want to see you everyday -- even if it's just to share a cup of coffee or a few moments talking in the carrel or a casual conversation in the SUB (student union building). I like that you know what you want. I really like how intelligent you are -- you're fast as polished steel and quite frankly you're a great teacher. You said you wanted to give me a gift of loving that someone in my future would benefit from. I don't want someone in my future -- I want you. Dad saw it in me this morning. He wants to meet you," I admitted what was going on with me.
By now she had her arm through mine and we were holding hands looking dead into one another's eyes, "Steven I am eight years older than you," she waited for my response. "Did you hear me?"
"Okay. What does that mean?" I pushed hard now. I wanted her to run if she was going to but I wasn't going to help her.
"Look, when you're 25 I'll be 33..." she tried the arithmetic logic on a math major.
I smiled, "Nowhere to run is there?"
She dropped her eyes, "Damnit Steven aren't you the least bit afraid?"
"Of what? Losing out on a relationship with you? The answer to that question is yes. But not about these numerical, pseudo-issues. Do I think that our relationship is going to be delicate to maneuver through? Yes it's gonna have its moments and I'll probably have to punch a few people in the mouth before all things have been said and done -- but that's a foregone conclusion with me," I explained.
"Steven you don't know anything about my past. I could be an ax-murderer or something more sinister...like a communist...or even a democrat...God forbid given that they are the party of the KKK and all the southern legislatures," she tersely responded. "The point is baby you don't know as much about me personally as you do about my physical geography. Your tongue has been on more places than my washrag and your big ol' hands have held my ass more than my panties have...damn it Steven don't you see what I'm saying?"
I kissed her, "Sure I do but you're not using sound, sentential logic in the process of trying to shake me into reality. How about we try it this way? First I am nineteen but that doesn't preclude me from cogent thought. Second, I usually get what I want -- I didn't know I wanted you until I got to know you. You ask great questions and you're blunt, which is my preference. Asking a great question grows out of a great intelligence. Bluntness saves a lot of heartache but it also hides a tender, sweet being and you don't want anyone to see that in Phylissia C. Wright, Ph.D. -- the most accomplished associate professor on the campus because it might reveal too much of who you are and you couldn't handle that because the iron rails of your success would be ripped out...wouldn't they?"
She nodded her head, tears forming on her eyelids, "How do you do that? How can you be so damned precise in human analysis -- you're a mathematician? I-I...oh Steven I don't know what to say I feel so exposed right now and scared that someone will find me out as not being 'Dr. Bitch of the Sociology Department'."
"Who's going to talk? Are you going to tell the people in your department that your lover is a student? I don't believe in talking about other people for any reason. If you have a problem with me you come to me don't go talking behind my back the very same way if I have a problem with you I'll be standing in front of you so I can see and hear what you've got to say. As for your specious title it don't mean rat spit. What matters is what's in your heart. I've seen what's in your heart and I like what I see. I'm going to make a bold claim..."
"What is that?"
I looked into her eyes and took her hands in mine, "You're my woman -- period. I'm your man -- period. I can guarantee you this - the person who thinks she or he can step in between us is dead wrong. I don't play baby -- at all. Do we understand each other?"
