Pictures of the Past by Deby Eisenberg Page B

seriously while everything is going on.”
    “Oh, you noticed that too. Well here’s my trick, Rachel.” He was caught off guard hearing her voice, feeling the touch of her hand on his shoulder to gain his attention. He only willed his mind to function to prepare logical words for a response. “I realized from the first time I taught this type of class for non-finance majors that most of the class were taking the course Pass/Fail. This is not the student population that I am used to. In my sections for finance majors, the kids are quiet, unless they are obsessively asking questions, and they’re serious about learning the material and getting a good grade.
    “So when I get a class like yours, I just block out the shenanigans of the ‘artistically gifted’ of NYU and try to teach to whoever is listening—which, in this case, happens to be you—and maybe only you.”
    “Oh,” she returned softly, obviously taken aback. She was surprised that he had even noticed her, since he barely looked her way even when she asked questions.
    He tried to keep his cool; he was so practiced in looking away from her in class that he didn’t know how to handle himself now. “So I guess I need to know if you’ve learned anything, to assess if my system is working,” he finally said.
    Rachel’s relationship with Richard stayed at a controlled distance until the end of the term. Their feelings were never verbalized those first months, and they interacted in an acceptable student-teacher manner, although he did invite her to his office two or three times for tutorial sessions and another two or three times she sought his help before a test. But both of them were aware that there was no need for tutoring, no test anxiety; Rachel could have excelled even in the class for finance majors.
    By their first real date after the course ended, they knew only the most elemental things about each other— that they were both Jewish, both bright and directed, both valued a sense of humor. And they knew the most important part of each other’s history.
    From the beginning she didn’t want to mislead him or take him by surprise. So very soon after their initial connection, the week after they spoke on the street, she knocked on his office door.
    “I won’t be in class on Thursday; I just wanted you to know.”
    At first he didn’t understand; he thought she meant not ever after Thursday. She could tell that from the reaction on his face. “Just that day—you see—it is Parents’ Day at Rusty’s school. I have a son Rusty, Jason really. He’s two and a half, and he is the light of my life. I have no husband.”
    There, it was out. In the past two years she had not been truly interested enough in anyone to even reveal this much. Solitary dates had occasionally been entertaining—that was all. But she wanted Richard to know who she was from the start. As she spoke, she pulled out a preschool picture of an adorable rusty-haired boy and placed it in front of Richard.
    “Well,” Richard said almost choked up that this catharsis on her part indicated that she too thought they might have a future. “You’re ahead of me—I’ve been rejected by love and I have no wonderful picture to show for it.”
    It was then that he told her about Sharon Lee Stein. “Since you have been so honest with me—I will tell you about my experiences with Sharon Lee Stein.” He sat back in his chair, twirling his pencil in his hand and focusing intently on the act without looking up at her. “Obviously, you see me as a handsome, charismatic lady’s man, but it was not always so.”
    She smiled broadly; did he truly not know how attractive he was? His allure was not because of his face or body, but his general bearing, his wit, and the charm of his personality.
    Lifting only his eyes to assess her expression, he felt assured enough to continue. “Now, as I was saying…in high school I was a big team player, but we’re talking the Debate Team and, oh yes,