Mr. Richardson and Me

"I love the way you form sentences," I blurted while we spoke on the phone. He was silent for a few seconds, just long enough for me to wonder if I had said the wrong thing. Then, he finally spoke. "That's probably one of the sexiest things one English teacher can say to another." We both laughed then. What nerds we are! Still, it was true: I did love the way he formed sentences. I loved the way he rearranged letters of the alphabet to form words and put them together into a complete thought. Not only that, I loved the way he spoke them. That deep, mahogany voice. I tingled. The next day, he came up behind me at in-service. My friend’s eyes widened as he leaned in to whisper in my left ear, “I love the way you form sentences.” When he had gone, she said to me, “Your face is beet red. I mean beet red. What the hell did he say to you?” “It was nothing, just unexpected. It’s been a long time since anyone has come up behind me like that. I guess I’m not used to it.” As usual, my friend smiled and tilted her head at the same time. She touched my arm as she told me, “I’m really happy for you. You deserve it,” my friend said. With another squeeze, we heard the announcement to take our seats. When I sat down next to another friend, she leaned into me and said, “I saw that you, you know. Just be careful. OK?” I nodded and told her I would tell him that too. “It’s really cute, to be honest. What did he say to you?” “I’ll tell you later.” I wandered my way back to my classroom, deep in thought about too many things as usual. When I opened the door, there he was. “I had to hide a moment, or I was going to get bombarded with questions again,” he said. “It’s good to see you again,” I responded. He chuckled. When I told him I was getting hit with a lot of questions and observations too, he apologized for being “untoward.” I had to admit I really liked it, I said, if it wasn’t the best thing to do in an auditorium full of educators. “I’ll save it for texts and voicemails then,” he said. “Me too.” “Kinda like a little code thing.” “I have a feeling we’ll have several of those. Like our own language.” “How nice to have a universe of two.” “There you go again, making sexy with the sentences.” His expression —jaw slack, eyes gleaming— was too precious to ever forget. I never have. So, I shot for the moon. “Don’t get me started, or I will talk about how I love how you rearrange letters of the alphabet to form words that go into those beautiful sentences. This could get … well…” “Damn, woman… I’m going to go before I do something else inappropriate.” He gave me a hug and left. Later, my friend reminded me that she knew what it was like to be chum in the water with “these sharks” and to be very careful. That was my waking dream until the day I met Mr. Richardson. Then, I had a great conversationalist in the flesh, and no longer needed my waking dream.