Her Melting Point

The Weight of Your Decisions

He held a long pensive pause.

"Why?"

She internally praised herself for giving him space. She was definitely getting better at having a constructive conversation with him, as ironic as the timing of it was.

"Because you're my former pupil," she said mournfully. "I know I said it before. More than once," she added with an apologetic glance at him. "And I know you're a grown-up now, but–"

"I don't understand."

He crossed his arms and glowered at her. She had an unwelcome thought that the other two men whom she'd had in her life before, wouldn't have needed an explanation.

"Alexander, things like that always come out. We hadn't even done anything, and Stephen had already had the wrong idea." Jackie said. "And that Harewicke woman this morning was making all these mental hints! We wouldn't be able to keep it a secret!"

"That's why we should be open about our relationship," he pronounced slowly.

"Yes, we should." She sighed. "But I suspect, not in the manner that you mean. This night - and the morning - have been wonderful. I do not regret a second of it! But it can never happen again."

She once again lifted her hand and jerked it back. The craving - to touch him, and to let him hug her, and to hide into him - was excruciating.

"I still don't understand," he reminded her; and she shook herself out of the miserable pondering of having developed an obvious addiction to Alexander Fergusson.

"A romance or a sexual relationship between a teacher and a pupil are never OK," Jackie postulated. "No matter what gender either is. No matter what's involved in it. There's a imbalance of power, even if a pupil is of the age of consent. I've seen so many scenarios play out in my years of teaching and being an education administrator. Wait, sorry, I'll get off my soapbox." She huffed an exhale, focusing on the matter at hand. "What is relevant is that if I date you right now, someone is bound to wonder whether it started ten years ago. And the next logical step is to assume that that's my preference." Jackie gave him a pointed look - but could tell right away that he didn't get the point. "I'm a Headmistress, Alexander. I can't have people question my integrity and worry that I would molest their child. Because if I had accepted your confession all those years ago and encouraged you in any way, and especially if I'd let you kiss me like you'd asked then, that's what I would've been - a molester."

She remembered him, the Alexander of ten or so years ago: lanky; hunched shoulders; large knotty hands and wide wrists. He walked into her empty classroom, his tatty rucksack on his shoulder. I love you. Please, wait for another twenty three months till I'm 18. He hadn't lifted his eyes even for a second. There was a half-healed bruise on his cheekbone. There had been rumours that his father and older brother beat him; but Alexander had always denied it; and nothing had ever been proven, no matter how much other parents and teachers had tried to interfere. I'm 16 now, I can consent. Can I kiss you?

"Have you ever seen it happen?" he asked, his face dark.

"Several times," she answered. "Just an allegation is enough to destroy a teacher's reputation; and it never recovers. In a way, that's how it should be. Pupils are children. They need to be protected. You were a child then."

Jackie decided that she'd allow herself one moment of weakness, and she leaned and pressed her forehead to his shoulder.

"I wish it were different," she whispered. "You're kind of... perfect." She could feel him still against her, and she chuckled shakily. "We've got so much in common. And I fancy your sense of humour. I know you think you've got some socialising limitations, but I feel so content, so comfortable when I'm with you. Had we just met, I think I would've asked you out myself." She gave it a thought. "Well, OK, I would've fretted and stressed myself out, but then I would've tried to get over my crippling insecurities and would've awkwardly mumbled and asked you out for a cup of coffee."