I’d dug myself a crater so big I couldn’t climb back out of it, and it was horrible at the bottom. I felt like a terrible person and the most vile excuse for a professional. Helen’s father’s eyes had spoken volumes; I was a letch, a pervert, messing around with a vulnerable young girl I should be trying to nurture and take care of.
I’d broken a moral code that ran through my profession, and my very soul. And I’d hurt her. I’d hurt her in a way that made me feel sick to my stomach.
A virgin. I should have known. But I hadn’t known.
I wasn’t sure which was worse — taking aside the moral implication and the ethics I’d committed to as a teacher — getting involved with a girl half my age and taking her innocence, corrupting her before she’d even had chance to grow up for herself, or leading her on and then casting her aside in the name of decency?
I poured myself another glass of wine and stared at my phone. Her dad had seen straight through me, bristling in recognition of my intentions towards his daughter. His teenage virgin daughter.
Christ, I was in the shit up to my neck. But I was more worried about Helen.
Poor sweet Helen and her horror when I’d pulled away.
Sending her a message would be risky, but I took a long slug of wine, then did it anyway.
Are you ok?
Officially the most lame excuse for a text message in the history of mankind.
Helen: Not really.
I’m so sorry.
Another lame excuse for a message.
Helen: I don’t want you to be sorry.
I was trying to formulate a response when the phone pinged again.
Helen: I thought you wanted me.
Helen: I shouldn’t have said anything.
You should have.
Helen: What happens now?
Helen: Is this over?
Helen: Please don’t say this is over.
The conundrum was a tough one. To say it was over and devastate a sensitive young woman in the middle of her final year, or continue with something that should never have started in the first place.
I couldn’t take her virginity, I couldn’t be that man. She was worth so much more.
But I wanted to, my God, I wanted to.
I wanted to make her mine, and show her how beautiful that could be. I wanted to love her, and teach her, and coax out her darkness and drink it from her lips. I wanted to hold her, and press my mouth to hers, and love her so gently.
Helen: ??
I typed out the only reply I could. The only reply I could commit to with any truth in it.
I’m sorry, Helen. I don’t know what else we can do.
I wasn’t expecting her response. Wasn’t expecting it at all.
Helen: Fuck your apology, Mark. And fuck you.
***
Helen
“For fucking real? Are you shitting me? You told him to fuck off?” Lizzie’s face was a picture, and it was almost worth the text to Mr Roberts just to see it. I rolled over in bed and she slipped under the covers with all her clothes on. “I’m impressed, Hels bells. That’s some sassy shit you’ve got going on.”
“It wasn’t sassy,” I said. “I was hurt. I didn’t mean it.”
“You should mean it. What a douche.”
“He isn’t a douche. He’s just…” I struggled for words.
“…A douche?”
“He’s not a douche, Lizzie.”
“Well, he’s sure acting like one.” She draped her arm across my waist. “What kind of guy freaks out over a brand-new *? Most guys would snap your hand off.”
My tummy fluttered and pained at the memory. That horrible moment he pulled away from me, just when I thought I had him. “He’s too… decent.”
“Maybe he is gay after all.”
I managed a smile. “I can safely say he’s not gay.”
She rested her head on my shoulder. “So, what happens now?”
I shrugged. “I cry forever. Accustom myself to the spinster lifestyle.”
I could feel her smile on my skin. “Or we could hole up with ice-cream and slushy movies for all time. I’d like that.”
I wondered where he was. How he was feeling. How much relief he was feeling now it was all over. I hadn’t heard a peep from him, not all night, and I’d stayed awake as long as I could. Until I’d realised he definitely wasn’t replying, and then I’d cried myself to sleep. “He thinks I’m a big baby. A stupid little girl.”
“So prove to him you’re not,” she said. I rolled over to face her and she raised her eyebrows. “He’s really got you good, hasn’t he? You look like you’ve been crying for twenty years.”
“I’m just sad. It was like a lifetime’s worth of Christmases, everything I ever wanted, everything I ever dreamed of. And then it was gone.”
“Temporarily gone, Hels. Don’t be naive.”
“He was serious. He looked horrified.”
“So? He wants it, you’ve just got to make sure he can’t resist it.”
I shook my head. “I’m done with all the fancy knickers and pretending to be cool.”
“There’s a stronger weapon in your arsenal than those things, my sweet Hels.” Her smile was wicked. Devious.