Page 36 of Scarred King

“To be a professor,” I say confidently, and he smiles and sips his wine. “But not just to get to be one.” I feel the excitement swirling up inside me. “I want to get there by carrying out groundbreaking research, I want to pass on my love and passion for this field to thousands of other people. I want to spend most of my time studying and doing research and…” I fall into an embarrassed silence when I see the awed expression on his face, “It probably sounds so childish to you.” I drink some wine and avoid his gaze.

“It sounds so real.” My hand is resting on the table and he strokes it for a minute then pulls his own hand away quickly, as if he’s done something wrong.

“No one in my life understands it,” I say sadly, and I am silent as the waitress returns to take our orders. When she walks away, I see that he’s looking at me tensely. “I don’t need to burden you with my private issues,” I wave my hand casually and sip some more wine.

“Actually, I’d like to hear all about it,” he says and places his glass down on the table. “I got divorced for exactly the same reason,” sharing such an intimate detail of his life so easily and I nod awkwardly. “My ex-wife couldn’t accept the fact that I have another great love,” he says, “that I have a pressing need to study and teach.” He moves our glasses aside so that the waitress can put our plates down.

He looks deep in thought. “Well, I’m not divorced yet,” I interrupt the silence, trying to sound amused in order to lighten the atmosphere. “But I’m sure that if my parents could divorce me for that, they would.”

“Why?” he asks confused.

“Because it’s physics. They can’t understand why I’ve developed an obsession with all sorts of things that they don’t understand at all. If it was business administration, med or law, they’d be happy about it. But an obsession with atoms, energy, mechanics?” I laugh bitterly and he smiles. “That’s just too weird.”

“You are so special.” He puts a piece of beef into his mouth and chews slowly. “I knew that as soon as I saw your eyes shining during our first class.” He eats another piece of beef and I can’t believe what I'm hearing. My perfect professor noticed me over the other students on our first class. "You remind me of myself,” he gives me another compliment and I can’t swallow the food in my mouth. “You were talking about passion.” He puts his fork down and sips his wine. “I wish that people could understand my passion for my research.”

“I do!” I blurt and blush again. “There’s nothing stronger than intellectual passion.” I ignore my burning face. “People think that passion comes from physical urges, but it’s right here,” I point at my head. “And it’s a thousand times stronger and more intense than any other desire.”

He nods enthusiastically. “That’s right, and I’ll prove it to you.” He puts his fork down again and starts on a long and impressive monologue of the theory of artificial light. When he finishes, my head is on fire and I’m dizzy with the pleasure I feel. The only thing that's bothering me is that I’m waiting to feel the same dizziness on a physical level inside me as well. That’s not happening and I don't understand why. All my adult life I’ve been dreaming about a man just like this one, and the private lecture I just received is one of the most exciting things I’ve ever heard. My mind responded appropriately… so why didn’t my body?

He smiles at the expression on my face and raises his glass to mine. “To intellectual passions,” he clinks our glasses and I smile back.

At the end of our meal he takes out his wallet and doesn’t even give me a chance to pay for anything. We take a cab back to the hotel and each of us is deep in thought. When we enter the hotel, the lobby is packed with people who came for the conference. I can’t avoid the looks of all the women. This time the looks are different – not kind and polite but invasive and rude. It’s as if, during the day, when I looked so young and harmless, I wasn’t a worthy opponent, but now, walking beside him in my tight dress, they are ready to attack the minute they get the chance. But they don’t get one. He’s walking straight towards the elevators, ignoring all the stares and whispers around us and chuckling to himself when the elevator doors close behind us.

“Could I be the only bachelor here?” he asks in an amused tone and the bashful smile is back on his lips. “Now, because you decided to show everyone how beautiful you are, the gossip will start. Try to ignore it.”

“I didn’t decide that,” I stutter, embarrassed.

“I apologize,” he grows serious suddenly. “It didn’t come out right. It’s just that you also surprised me with your appearance.”

The elevator door opens. “That’s OK,” I say, “I don’t usually pay attention to the way I look. I just thought that it would be better not to embarrass you and make the effort.”

He waits for me to open my door and then turns towards his room. “Elena, you are beautiful either way,” he says and closes the door. Excited, I continue to stare at the white door.

16

The second day’s panels are even more interesting, and I find myself listening more and typing less.

“Don’t worry,” I feel the need to reassure my professor when he looks at my blank computer screen. “Everything’s in here,” I point at my head, “I’ll summarize it all tonight.”

“I’m not worried at all,” he laughs. “I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.”

After lunch I go to my room to freshen up and return to the ground floor. I enter the main lecture hall and look for him. He’s not waiting at the entrance and I can’t find him inside. I sit down confused and look around, wondering why there are only women sitting in the first few rows. I look at the program again and go pale. How didn’t I notice this? He’s about to give his lecture right now. I didn’t even ask if he needs help with the presentation or wish him luck. I’m so embarrassed. It looks like I’ve forgotten my main reason for being here. I’m supposed to help him, not be preoccupied with myself and my own ambitions and desires.

He gets on the stage and the hall is silent. He scans the hall and then smiles his self-conscious smile. Oh my God, he’s smiling right at me. All the women seated in the first few rows are looking towards the back and I am looking for a way out. There is none. It’s just me and my professor’s smile.

He clears his throat and the women’s malicious stares stop and focus on him instead. He is wearing a light blue button-down shirt and dark navy blue jeans, as if he is intentionally choosing not to wear the type of tailored clothes worn by the speakers before him. He shoves his hand in his pocket and starts explaining the new theory he is researching. He walks across the stage like a rock star, soaking up all the love and admiration of his audience. His words flow and suddenly everyone is looking at me again.

“Elena, stand up so that everyone can see you,” he motions with his hand for me to stand up and I turn pale. “Come on, don’t be shy,” he insists. I get up slowly, smoothing my blouse as I stand up straight. He smiles at me, but I can’t smile back. “All the researchers in this room know that we’d never meet our deadlines without our assistants,” he is still smiling directly at me, as if we are the only people in the lecture hall. “And I have an assistant who is passionate about our joint research.” I can’t believe that he used the word ‘passionate’. My legs start to tremble. “I’m certain that in a few years, she will be standing on this stage, so remember her name.” Now I feel as if I’m going to faint. “And give her a round of applause,” the audience does as he asks, and I crash back into my seat. I’ve never felt so proud and embarrassed at the same time.

He finishes his lecture and is surrounded by a group of women who all want one precious moment of his company. I make my way outside, escaping the commotion and go into the restroom. I wash my face in the sink and try to get my pulse under control. I can’t believe the experience I just had; my mind refuses to relax. Two women come in and look at me curiously. I realize that they must have been sitting in the hall during the professor’s lecture and I escape back outside.

“Where were you?” the professor asks with a smile while walking away from the group of female admirers surrounding him.

“I was in the restroom,” I stutter, trying to figure out how to thank him.

“Did I embarrass you?” he has a worried look on his face.

“Very much so,” I answer honestly and look around, hoping that there are no audience for this awkward conversation.

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