Date: Sun, 22 Sep 2002 02:17:47 EDT
From: Lherelenfeline@aol.com
Subject: Of Meetings3 ( Male relationship section)

 Common disclaimers apply. If you're reading this , you are doing so of your
own free will and thus you're the one to blame  if it's illegal. Also this
is copyrighted material, so ask for permission before you mess with it.

For those of you who've been following the tale, this is chapter three and
takes place a good while after the second part which ended with Chris running
away. It may  be a bit confusing but please bear with me.

______________________________________________________________________________


Of Meetings

By Julian K Pearlson


    The door stood like a hungry maw ready to swallow up whatever unfortunate
creature chanced to come by. The peeling yellow paint didn't match the  fresh
white of the silk blouse that hung off the  shoulders of the house's
apparently solitary inhabitant. In turn , the clean , relatively new blouse
clashed  with the ancient black leather chaps and frayed blue jeans.  It did,
however, go perfectly well with the man's weary stare  which scanned up and
down the page full of numbers. Emitting a sigh that sounded a lot like a
derisive snort , the man crossed out five out pf the twenty neatly written
answers. "And that makes it a 75%, the highest grade of the whole bunch",
said  he to no one in particular and picked up another page.

    In truth his sole companion was the elderly dog that lay at his feet. The
beagle was nearly as old as the owner, who'd received a squealing puppy for
his fifth birthday. Now, twenty some odd years later the dog rarely emitted
any sound, let alone a squeal. It didn't bother his master at all. In fact ,
he liked it that way. He liked to listen to silence, so different from the
noisiness  and the bustle of New York. The city where he grew up , went to
college, fell in... Clipping that thought in it's root he concentrated on the
quiz sheet in front of him and scanned along the neat rows and columns of
questions and answers. Who would have thought that a music major would end up
teaching math in the out of the way town of Fairlawn? If anyone told him so
ten years ago  he'd have laughed.  Sure, he loved math as a kid, but everyone
knew that his future lay in music. Why else would his parents  let him spend
his every waking moment with the chorus?
    Another  one finished, a failing grade this time. He would really have to
go over polynomials with them. The entire class didn't do so well. Going over
the material wouldn't be much of a problem.  They were a few days ahead of
the schedule  so they would have a plenty of time to digest the topic. He
shifted his weight and  the leather creaked. The strange sound resonated
through the normally still area as he finished the last of them. That done,
he rose and  plucked a rubber band off  the porch steps. Restraining his
shoulder length hair he walked in and deposited the stack on the table.  He
considered his present situation and hadn't found it at all unpleasant.  The
school  paid for his house  and the six acres of land attached to it . The
house, of course , was in the middle of nowhere, but that amounted to much
desired solitude so he wasn't complaining. The money was decent too. He ven
had enough to get a horse, which by needed to be taken out on a run anyway.



    "All right kids!"

The clamoring continued as if he hadn't spoken. If he hadn't braided his
hair , it would be sticking out at odd angles by now.

"Guys!"

A few voices lowered but the majority of his eighth grade class continues to
talk.

"Gentlemen,  unless each and every one of you has perfect scores , I don't
see why you should be talking. Or should I give you a re test right now?"

That produced the much desired silence and he continued.

"As you may have noticed by now, your grades are dismal."

"But the quarterlies are coming up!"

He searched the room for the source of the disgruntled sound and found
Lucien. The normally quiet boy was seething. Cheeks red and eyes flashing the
teenager continued," Did you do this on purpose? Christmas is coming up and
just because you live alone doesn't mean you have to spoil it for the rest of
us! You really don't give a shit do you? Why don't you just get laid and get
a life!?", and then, finally comprehending the gravity of his words he sat
down, tight lipped and scared.

    The class was oddly silent, waiting for their teacher's reaction. He did
nothing . For a long minute he  stood at the cathedra, just looking at his
student. Lucien was one of the best  kids in the class, one of the few he
actually enjoyed teaching .  He really didn't want to do this  but the kid
left him no choice. The pink slip found it's way into his hand and he wrote
in his neat musician's handwriting, "Lucien Duncan, parental conference on
Friday, December 17th at 6:30 PM ", and then signed his name" Master
Christopher Randolph, department of advanced mathematics." The St. Jude
school seal was already there.

    "Mr. Duncan, I believe you have a date with the headmaster?"

The boy stood and quickly left, shooting one last fearful glance  at his
classmates.
" Back to the matter  of the quiz. You will be given a retest a week from now
which will over write your current grades. Until then, we will continue on
with the unit, just to avoid the repeat embarrassment and a dismal
Christmas." After that, the day went smoothly, just like any other day at the
St. Jude Academy for boys.
    Three days later, at precisely 6PM, Master Christopher Randolph entered
his office  and turned on the overhead lights. He would have been perfectly
happy with the small, green table lamp, but the occasion called for the cold
white overheads. They made him uncomfortable and he truthfully didn't want to
be here. Being a math teacher, he wasn't universally well liked, as say, art
teachers tended to be. Also, Lucien was one of his favorite students  and he
hated to make his holidays hell. The kid deserved it though. Even if he did
nothing more than state the truth.
    Truth be told he was lonely. He lived alone. No. not alone, he had a dog,
but still, he craved human contact. Not the casual brushes of egos in the
lounge, but contact, full interaction and that was something he carved  and
was terrified of at the same time. To want it and to run from it tore at him
and he knew so. During the three years at Rutgers he'd been true to his
pledge. Not a single person made it past his walls. He had a few casual
acquaintances, but only out of necessity. Emotional cravings scared him. Not
because he was afraid t get hurt, but because he didn't ant a repeat of that
week in the motel, because he still lacked the courage to pick his stings up
from Eileen's apartment, because he still saw John's face every night before
he slept and probably because he'd kept tabs on Mr. Jonathan Redgrave,
assistant to the dean of economics at Columbia. He still despised himself and
the unclean feeling wouldn't go away. Sometimes he wondered if it ever would.
Still, he deserved it, so instead of doing anything about it, he immersed
himself up to the ears in work, which in turn amounted to his current
situation. "So some good id come from it all," he mused as he leafed through
the file. Lucien was  a model student. His grades, although not spectacular
were comfortably high and he'd never had any behavioral problems until now.
Perhaps that's why he'd never seen his patents? A pity really that it took a
pink slip to get to know a students parents. Then again, who was he to judge?
The way things were going, he'd never have kids.

_____________________________________________________________

Here ends part 3 of the saga. I'm sorry I took so long  since the last
installment, but between school, work and moving I barely had time. Anyway,
expect a continuation within a few days and do send feedback to
Lherelenfeline@aol.com.