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My heart ached as the scene played out in my mind—a little girl looking at her teacher and professing her romantic love.
What did Felicity think?
Did she see the layers of my mouse?
Were teachers even trained to see mental disorders within their students?
Did Felicity recognize the signs?
The weight of such a misunderstanding pressed heavily on me.
M drew petals over words. “Her smile didn’t reach her eyes anymore. She looked. . .sad, and something else, maybe scared or worried.”
M drew more petals, but now there was no delicate kindness to the lines. Soon they became jagged. “‘That’s very sweet, Emily,’ she said, but her voice was too high, too tight. And at the time, I had no idea why she called me Emily. I told her that I was M.”
As if she could not take it anymore, Lunita slowly left the room.
I swallowed. “What else did Felicity say?”
M kept the chalk on the board and mimicked a feminine tone. “But you know, Emily, I’m your teacher, and you’re my student. There are rules about these things. And besides, you’re a very young girl, and I’m an adult. It’s important to keep those boundaries clear.”
“What did you say to her?” I asked.
“I laughed, a strange, hollow. . .laugh. . .and said something about age being just a number. I told her that my cock was huge and could pleasure her. Brash, I know, but. . .she looked like she was about to vomit.” M stepped back from the board. “I saw the pity in her eyes. It was worse than anger or annoyance. That was when. . .”
To my surprise, Pavel watched him. “When what?”
“In a display of true romance, I rounded her desk and tried to kiss her.”
I stiffened.
“She screamed and called Mr. Henderson, the school counselor. When he arrived, they talked quietly in the corner of the room. And. . .I felt everyone’s eyes on me, and the weight of their stares and then. . .”
“Yes?”
“That is all I remember. Someone else must have taken over.” M dropped his hand to his side.
The piece of chalk left a trail of white dust.
I turned back to the board.
The rose—with its petals entwined with words—now looked like some symbol of aching love.
M kept his back to me. “They put me in a new class. Maybe Mr. Henderson saw me as competition. I saw the way he looked at Felicity when he entered the room that day. He saw what I saw. Beauty. The possibility of love.”
Fuck. What will I tell my mouse?
“Days turned into weeks, and I couldn’t shake off the feelings. They were like a song stuck in my head, playing on loop. I found myself lingering near Ms. Felicity’s classroom more than necessary, watching her laugh and teach, and when she caught me watching her. . .she would look away.” M glanced over his shoulder. “It was like a game, a secret only her and I knew about, a silent dance between what was appropriate and what was yearned for in the shadows of our minds.”
Pavel looked at me. “I think. . .we have enough clues.”
M placed the chalk back and walked away from the board. “I started to visit places I knew Felicity would be at. She loved this one park with flowers that matched her eyes. There was also a cafe where she sipped coffee. Although I watched her from afar, we were on adventures together, exploring the world side by side.”
His voice faltered for a moment, before he pressed on. “Felicity stopped staying late after school. Soon, her car began to be the first to leave the parking lot. But I knew she was just being. . .shy. Playing. . .hide and seek.”
I blinked.
“Then one week, she was no longer at school and I had to leave and go right to her house. Something could have happened to her. I needed to save my sweet love.”
