Are you trying to suggest I'd take the coward's way out? That as a grown adult I resorted to hiding from an eighteen year old boy to resolve my problems? Okay, I admit it, that's exactly what I did.
Friday was easy... When I wasn't in class I hid in the deepest corners of the staff room, downing mugs of coffee to get me through my mild hang over. And a quick check of Jake's timetables gave me a good indication of where in school he would be so I could plan my movements without having to bump into him in the corridors.
And then it was the weekend.... Tony took me out to my favourite steakhouse - partly as a pre-emptive apology that he would be away with the boys on a stag weekend the next weekend, and partly because he knew that after a good meal and a few glasses of Malbec he was pretty much guaranteed a shag when we got home. His lack of ability to satisfy a woman in the bedroom wasn't due to the lack of practice he was getting .
But even more than usual my Saturday and Sunday was haunted by the thoughts of what Monday would bring, in particular my lesson straight after lunch where I wouldn't be able to avoid Jake. Would I be able to focus on my job with him in front of me? Did he have any idea how much the sight of his penis had affected me? Had he told the rest of the class that he'd exposed himself to his teacher?
Monday morning dragged, as an uneasy sense of anxiety grew in my stomach at how the afternoon would play out. At lunchtime I picked at my sandwiches whilst pretending to mark essays to avoid any of my colleagues trying to strike up a conversation with me. And then the school bell rang and it was time to see Jake.
One by one my students filed into my class, until all the seats were taken except one. Had I misjudged this entire situation - was Jake more embarrassed than me about what had happened? With each minute he failed to turn up I felt more and more relaxed, with the rest of the afternoon flying by. When I got home I took one final check of my work e-mails. In amongst the normal pointless work notes I noticed Jake had sent me a message, simply titled "Homework". Instinctively my duty to my students took over and I opened it up.
"Hi Mrs Stephenson" it began "sorry I missed class today, I had to have emergency dental work. I didn't want to mess up my scores so I hope you don't mind me sending through my homework late. Please find it here. Thanks, Jake"
I clicked the link expecting to find his latest creative writing efforts, but something completely different appeared on my laptop screen.
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