“What is going on?” she shrieked. But then she recognized Leo, and she shrieked again. “Wait a minute! I know you! You’re Tessa’s teacher!” Her gaze went to me, eyes blazing. “Tessa—what the hell do you think you’re doing?!”
She didn’t run out of the room like I expected she would; she just stood there, gaping, as I reached for the little lap blanket that was thrown across the back of the couch. Leo had grabbed a handful of his clothing and was holding it over his crotch, a cloudy expression still in his eyes, though I could tell he was trying not to smile.
I tried to arrange the blanket so it was covering me up, but it was too small; if I wanted to cover the top half, the bottom half was exposed; if I tried to cover the lower half, my breasts were right there for her to see. Leo solved this by handing me my shirt, which I got tangled up in as I hurriedly tried to put it back on.
“Now that you’re halfway decent,” my mother said, “would you like to tell me what the hell is going on?”
I opened my mouth to say something, but no words came out. How could I possibly explain this? She’d come in and seen everything. There was no way I’d be able to talk my way out of this one.
18.
Leo
“I’m waiting.”
Tessa’s mother was still standing there, looking at her expectantly. Tessa was stammering, trying to come up with an excuse on the fly, but really, there was nothing that was going to explain this except the truth. And my truth? Well, I wanted to finish myself off, since Tessa clearly wasn’t going to be able to, but there was no way in hell that was going to happen. The best I could hope for was I wouldn’t have to walk around for the rest of the day feeling like I’d been kicked in the balls.
Tessa’s mother looked at me. “And you!” she said. She shook her index finger at me, and I had to bite down on the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. “I don’t know what kind of professor you think you are, but I imagine this is most certainly against school policy!”
“You’re right,” I said. “This is really not the sort of thing that we expected you to walk in on.”
“Tessa must’ve forgotten to mention to you that I have a key of my own.”
I nodded. “I see that. Look, we’re really—”
“No! I don’t want to hear it!” her mother said. “There’s nothing you can say that’s going to make this better. There’s no excuse for this. How old are you?”
“Old enough to know better,” I said. “I’m 29.”
This tripped her up for a moment—I could tell she’d been hoping that I was going to say at least in my 30s, if not older, because then it’d really be scandalous, but she recovered quickly and resumed glaring at me. “It’s not acceptable,” she said, “whatever age you are. You’re a teacher. Don’t you have any self-respect? Don’t you realize that your job is important and by doing something like this, you’re abusing your position of power?”
“I’m sorry, Mom,” Tessa said, saving me from having to answer. “We’re both sorry. I really wasn’t expecting you to come in like this.”
“Clearly not,” her mother said sourly. “This is very disappointing, Tessa. Very disappointing. I thought you were so busy with your schoolwork and trying to get your grades back up. How is it you have time for this—” Her mother stopped abruptly, the synapses firing, connections being drawn. Her eyes narrowed. “Tell me you’re not sleeping with him to get a better grade.”
Tessa hesitated a second too long. If I were her, I would’ve been shaking my head emphatically. “What are you, crazy?” I would’ve said. “There’s no way in hell I’d do something like that. What kind of person do you think I am?”
But Tessa was clearly flummoxed (or maybe mortified) by this entire situation, and her shoulders slumped, and she sighed. “I’m sorry, Mom, I’m so sorry, I . . .”
“Jesus Christ!” her mother exclaimed. “Tessa, I don’t even know what to say to you right now. I just don’t. So I’m going to leave.”
“Are you . . . are you going to tell Dad?” Tessa asked, and I could hear the trepidation in her voice. Actually, scratch that—more like abject fear.
“I can’t even talk to you about this now. I just . . . I can’t.”
Her mother shot me one last glare and then left, slamming the door behind her. Tessa stood there for a moment, and then her shoulders started to shake, and she burst into tears.
I stood up and went over to her, put my arms around her. “Shhh,” I said. “It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not!” she wailed, her voice muffled against my shoulder. “That was the worst possible thing that could’ve happened. I can’t believe that my mother just walked in on us. She just walked in on us. Unless this is a dream. Am I dreaming? Because if I am, I’d like to wake up now, because this is more like a nightmare.”
I stroked her hair. “It’ll be all right. I mean, I don’t think any parent particularly enjoys walking in on their kid in the middle of sexual activity, but—”
“It’s not just that. She’s going to tell my father. He’s going to flip out. And it’s not going to be something he just needs some time to calm down about. He is absolutely not going to be okay with this!”
She started sobbing again, and I hugged her tightly, wishing that I could take back the past 20 minutes. My balls ached, which I tried to ignore.
“Do you want me to stay?” I asked.