WHERE'S THE BEEF (Part 2)
Catching up with him, I asked, "Aren't you in one of my classes?"
From the look on his face and the glint in his eye, I knew immediately he was. Also, that this young man had possibilities.
"Now that you mention it, I do remember you. I'm Jake, a teacher's assistant. You're the student who's always got something to say in Metaphysics--the one who gets Professor Clint side-tracked."
"Yes, I confess. I'm the one . . ."
"You know you staying after class, talking to him as you do, shortens my time with him. Between classes is supposed to be the time he discusses term papers with me."
I wondered if it was his way of flirting or what, but decide to play along. "Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Kate Calder. I pay for my education and try to get my money's worth, not see how little time I can spend in each class."
He sniffed and looked down his nose. "What, no scholarships?"
"Probably not in the fashion you are used to . . . "
"Oh, I get it, you must be in the Gates D.O.P. That dropout program--for ones like him that dropped out of Harvard and went on to other things--the one the capitalist's fund to keep their name affiliated with the school."
"You could look at it that way, but the primary thrust of our program is to help broaden the vision of students who eat the meat out of their hamburgers and donate theirs buns to little old ladies down on their luck. You know, as I saw you do with Molly a few minutes ago . . . "
"Is that a slam at me?"
"Just trying to make a point. The whole idea behind the program is that for ANY business to succeed, the customers should never have to ask, 'Where's the beef?' That's cheating them. Not giving them full value."
With that and a wave of my hand, I walked through the gates and across the yard into Emerson Hall. Being early, I made a quick detour to the restroom before class started, I mumbled aloud as I washed my hands. "Accept it. He may be gorgeous looking, but he's rotten to the core. Probably a sociopath who got in here on dummied down SAT tests."
His type never failed to get me steamed. Walking upstairs to class, I mentally scratched him off my list of people I wanted to get to know better.
God how I missed my former life. Did I do the right thing in coming here? If I wanted to be a "do-gooder," why didn't I just stay put and simply send the school a check now and then? It would have been cheaper in the long run and a lot less stressful.
* * * * * * *
Taking my usual place at the front of the class, I noticed Jake from the corner my eye. He was standing by the window glaring at me across the room. Professor Clint noticed it and gave him a wave of the hand to sit down as he walked over to my seat. "I was afraid you might not be here tonight, is your back feeling any better?"
Damn! He was such a sweetheart, even if he was a liberal. Or so I assumed. I didn't know for sure, but him teaching on the main campus, rather than in the business school, it was a good bet.
* * * * * * *
Despite little background in higher math, Professor Clint had let me take the course. I wasn't sure it was a good idea, but by the second class, I wanted to stay. I could see he was an extraordinary teacher and blessed with a great personality. Gifted.
Every class after became easier and easier. Soon I looked forward to them, confident I was going to make it through with flying colors. It helped too, that he wasn't bad to look at when he took off his nerdy looking horn rimmed glasses.
I had no intentions of messing around with him, but I HAD added him to my collection of men. In my mind, it was not unlike how you'd find various chocolates pictured on the inside lid of a box of Whitman's Sampler Choclolates. That's how I kept them mentally organized and sorted them out. Then on lonely nights when I was hungry, I'd pick one out that suited my appetite for that night. Unbeknownst to Professor Clint, he had become my favorite candy of choice--a delicious pleasure on many a lonely night.
* * * * * * *
After class I gathered up my books and headed for Border's Cafe to eat and study. As I approached, I saw a line half block long waiting to be seated. It had been a mistake to go to the Harvard Coop first for books. Usually I missed the crowd by going early.
Carlos, one of the Brazilian waiters, was working his way through the line with clipboard in hand. When he got to me, he said, "I know who you are," and handed me a pager. "Good luck!" he said with a sneer.
I knew him too. The creep. His attitude and poor service had made him memorable. If I had to guess, I'd say he thought restaurant work was beneath him and giving good service to me, was even further beneath him.
His macho entitlement attitude was hard to overlook. He was rude and abrasive. Slow. Kept people waiting while he talked about nothing, Even so, I had repeatedly given him the benefit of a doubt. But, the last time I had to put up with him, I lost it. I asked the night manager to never again, seat me at one of his tables. Now I would pay for not keeping my mouth shut.
After ten minutes of standing in line, I gave up. Figured I'd go back to my dorm and order in Chinese. It'd been a long day. Maybe my favorite delivery guy would bring me a fortune cookie with a promising message. My back hurt and I was simply too tired to stand in the line any longer.
As I turned tail to give back my pager, I worked my way up to the head of the line past the big window running nearly the length of the building. Nearing the front door, I heard a knocking on the glass. It was Professor Clint and he was motioning for me to come inside, pointing to the extra seat at his table where he and a woman were sitting.
**************************
Once inside I found him waiting for me by the cash register with a big smile. "Oh Kate, your back must be killing you." Taking my books and steering me towards his table, he added, "Come now and rest. You can join my sister and me at our table."
Pulling out a chair for me, the professor reached back for a mug off the nearby station and poured me a beer from the pitcher on their table. "Kate, this is Anne, my daughter. She and my TA Jake, recently became engaged. He will join us soon. "
"Oh, yes, I know who he is. I hope you will be very happy."
"I do too," he added with a sigh. "By the way, have you gone to that chiropractor yet?"
"Not yet Professor, I keep thinking in time it will get better by itself, it usually does."
Hearing the oversize wooden screen door slam, I saw Jake enter. "I made it," he said scraping a chair noisily across the old wooden floor. Glaring at me he said, "Well, surprise seeing you here!" Three times in one day, it must be true, it never rains but it pours."
"That's right . . . " I said, but under my breath I added, "you sarcastic jerk." Realizing I had a bad attitude where this guy was concerned I figured I'd better calm down and try to find something nice to say.
"Jake. Congratulations on you engagement, so do you and Anne share any classes?"
"Are you asking," he said with a frown, "how we met?"
"Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to be intrusive."
"It's all right Kate," Professor Jeff said glaring at Jake, "Go ahead and tell her, it is okay with me."
Looking a bit skeptical, he mumbled, "I was a teacher's assistant for Professor Clint's s Philosophy 101 class. Anne was helping her dad with paper work. One thing led to another."
"Oh, I see. Incidentally, I'm surprised you are not a TA in our metaphysics class."
"Clint wanted me to audit the class first before I assisted him next semester."
The waiter brought us another pitcher of beer and we all ordered Taco Grande Salad. Jake ordered his with no chips and extra guacamole--swore it was legal on his no-carb diet. As we waited for our food, he ran-on and on about a controversial issue on campus regarding the Ayn Rand Objectivist Club and the Objectivist Philosophy
Professor Clint laughed and said, "Jake, Rand would roll over in her grave if she could hear you now. You need to brush up on your economics and history."
Anne spoke up after having sat quiet for sometime. "Jake and I have a difference of opinion when it comes to Ayn Rand."
"For or against," I asked her.
Before she could answer, Clint broke in and said, "My sister and I were raised on her brand of objectivism. Our parents were very much into us living by values and the "virtue of selfishness."
Suddenly, I didn't feel alone anymore. I could have hugged my professor, and told him I loved him. I had known all along there was something about him that made my heart and mind sing in harmony.
While Jake sulked with his arms folded, Anne, and Clint and I couldn't talk fast enough. As we shared our combined philosophical and political views, it was as if a flood of emotion had broken loose.
We laughed and talked and got so carried away, that Professor Clint forgot himself and slapped me on the leg. I was sure it was unintentionally but God it felt so good. I tingled all over.
Apologizing, he put his arm around the back of my chair and leaned in close. "Forgive me Kate. I got carried away."
My face felt red hot and I wondered if he noticed. Stuttering, I reassured him. "No problem Professor, I know it was perfectly innocent."
He laughed. "Don't be too sure about that," Discretely he moved his chair closer to mine to make room for the waiter. Because of the small chairs and the closeness, his thigh now pressed against mine.
"You have a good sense of humor," I told him
as I felt myself blush again.
"I wasn't joking," he murmured as he patted my hand.
Keeping an eye on his sister and Jake who were talking to the waiter, he added, "Are you going across the street when you leave here? You know, to sing, over to Club Passim."
***********************
To Be Continued: Part 3
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