Teacher's Pet

“I know, Mom.”

Our waitress came over to take our order, and I was glad for the interruption because I wanted to change the subject. I kept thinking about that letter I got and the fact that I’d need to somehow fit that in on top of all the other schoolwork I had.

“So,” my mother said, after our waitress left, “is there anything else you want to talk about?” she asked. “Any other good news you want to share? Have you been seeing anyone?”

I stared at her. “Seeing anyone? Why do you think I’d be seeing someone?”

“I don’t think that; I was just curious since you’d been seeing that other person and had never mentioned it. It’s totally fine if you’re not seeing someone, but I wanted to reiterate to you that if you were, I’d hope you’d share that with me. Not all the details or anything, but believe it or not, I still remember what it was like to be your age and how exciting it was to go out on a first date.”

“Right, but the whole reason my grades slipped in the first place was because I was seeing someone.”

“That’s true,” my mother said. “Well, that’s very responsible of you—not to get involved with someone until you’ve got your grades back under control. I’m going to tell your father we had this very conversation, and that you’re committed to getting your grades back on track. I think he’ll be pleased.”

How did we keep coming back to this? It seemed unavoidable. I was actually glad when my mother started talking about Marjorie and Brynn, who had just found out she’d been awarded some grant to go study in Ecuador.

After our food came out, I mostly listened and ate as my mother talked about how nervous Marjorie was to be letting Brynn travel to a new country and how she was considering going with her, though that wouldn’t really be practical. I could tell my mother was sort of fishing, wondering if I had any big project that I was working on that she could brag to Marjorie about.

When we were finished eating, our waitress came and took our plates, and asked if we wanted to see the dessert menu.

My mother looked at me. I shook my head. “I think we’re all set for dessert,” my mother said.

“That’s fine,” I said. “I don’t need to be indulging in any extra sweets.”

The waitress nodded and said that she’d be right back with the check.

“Take your time,” my mother said, taking a sip of her wine. “Just enjoying a lovely day out with my daughter. What are you doing after this? Should we go to a museum? Do a little shopping?”

“I don’t know if I can do that,” I said. “I’ve got a ton of work I need to be doing.”

“There is a new exhibit I’ve been wanting to see at the MoMA . . .” Her voice trailed off, her eyes going past me, fixing on something else. I turned to see what she was looking at, and there he was.

Leo.

Walking down the sidewalk, wearing a black T-shirt and blue jeans.

He caught my eye, and for a second, I thought he was going to keep walking. I felt a thrill at just having seen him out like this, but that thrill suddenly became tinged with anxiety when he veered in our direction.

“Oh, hi,” I said as he approached.

My mother had a flustered look on her face, and looked to me, then him, then back to me.

“Hi

there, Tessa,” he said.

“Mom, this is one of my teachers; this is Professor Rochman,” I said, hoping that I wasn’t blushing too much.

My mother smiled. “It’s a pleasure to meet you!” she said. She held out her hand and they shook. “Would you like to join us?”

“Oh no, I don’t want to infringe on mother-daughter time.”

“It’s not infringing at all! Please—sit! It would be so great to get to chat with one of Tessa’s professors. So long as it’s not crossing any boundaries—I know how strict some schools are about student-teacher interaction, but there’s nothing going on here that shouldn’t be!” My mother giggled, and I realized that she was trying to flirt a little with Leo. And I could tell by the look on her face that she was very taken with him, that she was surprised he was so good-looking.

“Maybe another time,” I said, right as Leo said, “Sure, why not?”

He sat down next to me, his knee brushing against mine under the table.

“So, what class do you teach?” my mother asked, her eyes wide and eager.