He turned 24 on April and was my literature teacher at secondary school. Needless to say, I thought he was as old as Methuselah. But he was completely different from the herd.
I loved his freckled face and blond reddish hair. He had that irresistible bohemian intellectual look. Nobody but him could cope with my mental gluttony and eagerness to learn, read and write.
We used to talk about everything during school recess, while the boys played football in the schoolyard and the girls gathered to chat about boys.
We started dating secretly on Friday afternoons, after the class was over.
On our first rendezvous he invited me to see “My Fair Lady” at a local movie theatre. On our second, he gave me “Poms Penyeach” by James Joyce, and wrote this dedication on the first page:
“To a girl who will be a wonderful woman in just a few years”
I smiled at him, not knowing what to say.
– It will be unbelievably nice to be with you when you become an adult. –he said-
He walked me to the bus stop and sat on a bench beside me, as we waited for my bus to come.
– You’ll probably hate me for saying this, but if you were just four years older, we would have no choice but to be lovers. –he said, devouring me with his eyes-. I’m now too troubled by our 9-year age difference.
He gave me a hesitant smile and kissed me soft and long on the lips. Happily stunned and almost in shock by his words, I rushed off without even saying goodbye and got on the bus.
My mind floated blissfully through space. My heart was beating like a machine gun. I sat on the side of the bus, looked at him through the window and smiled.
He stood there until the bus moved. His eyes were beaming at me.
How I wished I had been a grownup that day.