Awkward. It was very, very awkward.
"Don't you like me?" she asked.
"Of course I do," I replied, "I've always liked you. That's why I've worked so hard to help you."
The "she" I'm referring to was Raelene, an 18 year old student at Bridgeport High School. As guidance counselor, I'd been meeting with Rae for over two years, after she came to me and confessed she had an alcolhol problem. We cut a deal: I promised not to tell the principal (which would lead to some serious consequences) or her mother (maybe even more serious consequences) if she promised to stop drinking and check in with me each week. I figured it would be worth the risk as long as it worked. After all, the goal is to help kids, not punish them, right?
She kept her end of the bargain. Every week she would set an appointment with me, and not once did she miss it. And every week she told me that she successfully made it without drinking any alcohol. I was confident she was telling the truth too. At first I would subtly check with other kids to see if there were indications that she had gone to any parties, but there never was. When I went to the lunch room, I noted that she sat with completely different students than before she started meeting with me.
"Then why are you going on a date tomorrow night?" she asked.
"What?" I said completely dumbfounded. First of all, I was taken aback by the fact that she seemed to be jealous. I had heard that school girls get crushes on their teachers, but I never actually thought that would happen to me.
Second, I was shocked that she considered it a date. I wasn't surprised that she knew about it – it was with her mother after all. But we were simply getting together for a cup of coffee after school the next day.
"You're going out with my mother tomorrow," she replied. "That's what."
"We're just having coffee," I said. "But you don't have to worry, I'm not going to tell her anything about your problems. Those will remain our secret."
As she stepped around the side of the desk to eliminate the barrier between us, she responded, "You think I'm worried about that? You don't understand women at all, do you?"
"What on earth are you talking about Rae?" I said.
"Oh come on Mr. Z.," she said as she took a step closer to me so that I could now smell the coconut fragrance of her shampoo. "Do you really not know how I feel? And don't you know how you feel?"
I just looked at her. For a man who usually had a well thought out response (I was a counselor after all), I had no idea how to respond.
"Oh come on," she continued. "You can't tell me you don't feel anything towards me. Do you remember your reaction last year when we were decorating for homecoming?"
The truth is I had forgotten. Or more accurately, I had repressed it. You see, as class advisor I was helping the students decorate for the homecoming dance. Rae and I were putting up streamers. She wasn't tall enough to reach so I came up behind her to help her. While we were reaching up together to tape the streamer, her buttocks rubbed against my groin which produced the natural reaction of any red-blooded, straight, American male. I instantly had an erection.
I walked away immediately, hoping that she hadn't noticed. It was after all absolutely wrong for an educator of any kind to touch and/or react to any student in such a way. So I got out of there quick. And then I repressed the memory. Wiped it out of my data base. Or so I thought.
As soon as she mentioned that moment, it all came rushing back. I remembered the reaction. And when I did, it left me just as speechless as I had been a moment earlier.
"I can tell by the look on your face that you do," she said. "And the fact that you have nothing to say tells me that you feel the same way that I do. So let me help you out here. You like me and I like you," she said as she moved her hand to my crotch and began to gently rub my penis, "and it's about time that we did something about it."