Salim arrived at his office and accepted a handful of messages from his secretary on his way to the elevator. As he waited impatiently for the doors to open on his floor, he read through them. There were five, and they were sorted in chronological order; 8:45, message from Robert. 8:52, slightly angry message from La Rosa, 9:10, message from potential client, 9:15, message from a mechanic. And the last one, 9:18, was a message from his teacher. Salim looked at his watch. It was 9:35. She must've called when he was en route to the office. He read the message hastily.
"My apologies," it said, "I have to cancel class for today. I will call you when I can come." Alice always took messages verbatim, and as Salim read the note, he tried to hear the words as his teacher spoke them. In his head they sounded toneless, ambiguous, possibly benign or possibly angry.
The elevator doors opened and Salim walked slowly to his office and sat down at his desk. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his mobile phone, cycling through the directory and looking for her number. He found it and hesitated before pushing the button. What if she was angry with him? What if he had been too forward in the car? He placed this thumb over the button that would cause the number to be input and the signal to be sent. He knitted his eyebrows together and pressed it.
The phone rang, once, twice, thrice.
"Hello?" It was she who had picked up.
"Hello, this is Salim," he said, trying to sound nonchalant. "I just received your message. I am hoping everything is well?"
There was a pause at the other end of the line. "Hello?" Salim said again cautiously.
"Yes, everything is fine, thanks," she answered. "I just can't make it today, sorry."
"May I help with anything? A taxi perhaps?"
"No, thank you. A taxi will not be necessary."
"Pardon my asking," Salim ventured, "I hope you will not mind, but may I ask if there is any problem?"
Salim thought he heard the scratch of breath blown across the receiver. It could have been static, he was not sure.
"There is no problem at all, thank you."
Salim twirled his pen in his free hand and then said, "Then why can you not come?"
Over ten seconds of silence followed. Salim cleared his throat. Then he heard the sound again, it could not have been static. It was definitely a breath of some sort.
"I'm sorry," the teacher said slowly, "I just don't feel up to teaching classes anymore. I'm tired these days. If you don't mind, I'd like a vacation."
"Of course, of course," Salim said right away, "A week? Two weeks? When will you return?"
"I'm sorry for not making myself clear the first time," the teacher said. "But I would like to postpone classes with you until further notice."
Salim put his hand quietly on his forehead and said, "One moment please." He put the phone down on the desk and exhaled loudly. Then, as he was staring at his desk in perplexity, his eye caught the fourth phone message, the one from the mechanic. It read: "Tell him that I tried to keep it a secret but she's very persistent and I'm sorry. Tell him I'm sorry, ok? There was nothing I could do about it." After the last line Alice had penned a few dots and a question mark in parenthesis, which was her way of signaling her confusion.
Salim picked up the phone quickly. "I..."
"Yes?" his teacher said tonelessly. Now Salim realized that her voice was calm but angry. How could he have missed the exasperated sigh earlier?
"Listen," he said, dropping all pretense of formality, "Can you please come to my office? I think we must talk in person."
"I would rather not," the teacher said.
"Please," Salim said, "You must, please, I shall send the driver for you in ten minutes, ok?"
After a tense silence she said, "Fine," and hung up. Salim rang his secretary and had Taylor sent to the teacher's house. She would be arriving soon, it would take less than twenty-five minutes altogether. He had much to do in that time, and had to hurry to accomplish it.
He quickly called La Rosa and made the proper apologies, and set a time for a longer, uninterrupted phone call later in the afternoon. He phoned the potential client and convened a council of their secretaries to arrange a meeting some time next week. He stuffed the other three messages in his desk and in doing so, spied his bottle of Scotch. He lifted the bottle to his lips and took a long draught to settle his nerves. Then he rushed to his bathroom to brush his teeth, and to shave, which he had not done yet.
He emerged from of the bathroom with his jacket in his arms and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and stopped in his tracks. His teacher was already sitting in the chair on the opposite side of his desk. Taylor must have done some very fast driving. Either that or time had passed much faster than Salim expected it to.
She did not turn around when he stepped into the room, but stayed in the chair, erect and motionless. Salim felt his stomach quiver suddenly. He drew in a breath, called upon all his mental resources, and walked past her to his desk and into his chair, still with his sleeves rolled up and his jacket still over his arm. He sat down without looking up at her right away, contemplating his lap. After a few moments, the teacher said, "Well?"
Salim looked up guiltily, embarrassedly, and said, "This is about your car. Please allow me to apologize."
The teacher looked unflinchingly at Salim, the only sign of her emotions being a slight flaring of her nostrils, a rise in color to her cheeks. "What-"
"Please," he interrupted, leaning forward and putting his elbows on the desk. "I know that it was not right of me to do such a thing secretly, but I wanted to make a surprise for you."
"That's not the impression the mechanic gave," she said hotly.
"Oh," Salim said, wilting under the heat. "I am sorry. Please forgive me. I am very sorry."
The teacher put a hand on the back of her neck and shook her head. "I just-" she began, exasperatedly, "I mean, what right- What are you trying, to, to- achieve?"
Salim looked up at her, and he stared sadly into her eyes. She shook her head slightly as he did this and raised her eyebrows, as if asking a question. Salim opened and closed his mouth several times as if to answer, but when nothing came out, his teacher shook her head once more and stood up.
"Wait!" he said, suddenly recovering his powers of speech.
"Good bye Mr. Umari," she said through tight lips. "Good luck with your English studies, and with finding a new teacher."
She turned and walked out of the door. Salim sat in shock, and then bolted up and rushed out into the hall behind her. The elevator doors had already opened and she was just stepping inside of them when he caught up with her, and ran in behind her. She turned around angrily as the doors closed behind him.
"Now what?" she said irritably.
"Please," Salim said, trying to stand at a respectful distance in the limited space of the elevator. "Please, you misunderstand me. I meant you no harm, I did not mean to violate your privacy."
"Then what did you mean?" the teacher challenged, placing one hand on her hip. Salim was momentarily distracted by its curve. Then he blinked and looked up, staring into his teacher's angry blue eyes again, searching them for a sign. That fierce sparkle, was it the hard sparkle of a diamond? Or was it the faceted sparkle of ice? Could the ice melt? Could he make the eyes melt?
As he stood staring, the ice did melt, and a trickle of water leaked out onto the teacher's cheek. "Oh I am so sorry!" Salim said, frantically producing a silk handkerchief from his pocket, "Please don't cry, please, I am so sorry!"
The teacher snatched the handkerchief and turned away, and at that moment, the lights flickered in the elevator and it came to a screeching, grinding halt. Salim stood uneasily with his hand on the brass rail in the compartment.
The teacher looked up to the ceiling, and then to Salim. She pushed the button for the 31st floor several times, and then the button for opening the door, and when at length, nothing happened, she threw the handkerchief back at him scornfully and said "Dammit Umari! Did you arrange this too?"
Salim shook his head innocently and pushed the emergency button. It gave off a wicked spark and a puff of smoke and he leapt back. The teacher also jumped. Salim reached into his pocket for his mobile phone, and remembered that it was still on the desk.
He closed his eyes and turned and rested his head against the cool wall of the elevator. The teacher was standing with her back to him, both hands on the brass railing. They stood in silence for a interminable amount of time, waiting, and finally, the teacher sighed, set down her purse, and sat down on the floor with her legs crossed beneath her skirt and her arms crossed on her stomach. Salim sat down also, and stared meekly at his fingernails.
He cleared this throat and spoke, quietly, because the stillness in the elevator made his voice seem very loud, saying, "I am not a bad man. I am not what you think I am."
The teacher was staring at the elevator door. She said, "So what."
"So you do not have to leave teaching me. I will not harm you."
The teacher raised an eyebrow and turned and glared at Salim "Harm me?"
Salim felt a hot rush of color to his neck and he lowered his gaze. After a while he glanced down at his watch. Ten minutes had passed in the elevator. Salim looked at the ceiling, then at the floor, at the elevator buttons, and then at the door, and when he turned his head slightly to steal a glance at his teacher, who looked like she was resting her head against the elevator wall with her eyes closed, she turned to him and gave him an accusing stare.
"I did not do this!" Salim pleaded, "Please believe me. I would never do anything like this."
"Like you would never do anything with my car?" she was still staring at him.
"My apologies," it said, "I have to cancel class for today. I will call you when I can come." Alice always took messages verbatim, and as Salim read the note, he tried to hear the words as his teacher spoke them. In his head they sounded toneless, ambiguous, possibly benign or possibly angry.
The elevator doors opened and Salim walked slowly to his office and sat down at his desk. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his mobile phone, cycling through the directory and looking for her number. He found it and hesitated before pushing the button. What if she was angry with him? What if he had been too forward in the car? He placed this thumb over the button that would cause the number to be input and the signal to be sent. He knitted his eyebrows together and pressed it.
The phone rang, once, twice, thrice.
"Hello?" It was she who had picked up.
"Hello, this is Salim," he said, trying to sound nonchalant. "I just received your message. I am hoping everything is well?"
There was a pause at the other end of the line. "Hello?" Salim said again cautiously.
"Yes, everything is fine, thanks," she answered. "I just can't make it today, sorry."
"May I help with anything? A taxi perhaps?"
"No, thank you. A taxi will not be necessary."
"Pardon my asking," Salim ventured, "I hope you will not mind, but may I ask if there is any problem?"
Salim thought he heard the scratch of breath blown across the receiver. It could have been static, he was not sure.
"There is no problem at all, thank you."
Salim twirled his pen in his free hand and then said, "Then why can you not come?"
Over ten seconds of silence followed. Salim cleared his throat. Then he heard the sound again, it could not have been static. It was definitely a breath of some sort.
"I'm sorry," the teacher said slowly, "I just don't feel up to teaching classes anymore. I'm tired these days. If you don't mind, I'd like a vacation."
"Of course, of course," Salim said right away, "A week? Two weeks? When will you return?"
"I'm sorry for not making myself clear the first time," the teacher said. "But I would like to postpone classes with you until further notice."
Salim put his hand quietly on his forehead and said, "One moment please." He put the phone down on the desk and exhaled loudly. Then, as he was staring at his desk in perplexity, his eye caught the fourth phone message, the one from the mechanic. It read: "Tell him that I tried to keep it a secret but she's very persistent and I'm sorry. Tell him I'm sorry, ok? There was nothing I could do about it." After the last line Alice had penned a few dots and a question mark in parenthesis, which was her way of signaling her confusion.
Salim picked up the phone quickly. "I..."
"Yes?" his teacher said tonelessly. Now Salim realized that her voice was calm but angry. How could he have missed the exasperated sigh earlier?
"Listen," he said, dropping all pretense of formality, "Can you please come to my office? I think we must talk in person."
"I would rather not," the teacher said.
"Please," Salim said, "You must, please, I shall send the driver for you in ten minutes, ok?"
After a tense silence she said, "Fine," and hung up. Salim rang his secretary and had Taylor sent to the teacher's house. She would be arriving soon, it would take less than twenty-five minutes altogether. He had much to do in that time, and had to hurry to accomplish it.
He quickly called La Rosa and made the proper apologies, and set a time for a longer, uninterrupted phone call later in the afternoon. He phoned the potential client and convened a council of their secretaries to arrange a meeting some time next week. He stuffed the other three messages in his desk and in doing so, spied his bottle of Scotch. He lifted the bottle to his lips and took a long draught to settle his nerves. Then he rushed to his bathroom to brush his teeth, and to shave, which he had not done yet.
He emerged from of the bathroom with his jacket in his arms and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and stopped in his tracks. His teacher was already sitting in the chair on the opposite side of his desk. Taylor must have done some very fast driving. Either that or time had passed much faster than Salim expected it to.
She did not turn around when he stepped into the room, but stayed in the chair, erect and motionless. Salim felt his stomach quiver suddenly. He drew in a breath, called upon all his mental resources, and walked past her to his desk and into his chair, still with his sleeves rolled up and his jacket still over his arm. He sat down without looking up at her right away, contemplating his lap. After a few moments, the teacher said, "Well?"
Salim looked up guiltily, embarrassedly, and said, "This is about your car. Please allow me to apologize."
The teacher looked unflinchingly at Salim, the only sign of her emotions being a slight flaring of her nostrils, a rise in color to her cheeks. "What-"
"Please," he interrupted, leaning forward and putting his elbows on the desk. "I know that it was not right of me to do such a thing secretly, but I wanted to make a surprise for you."
"That's not the impression the mechanic gave," she said hotly.
"Oh," Salim said, wilting under the heat. "I am sorry. Please forgive me. I am very sorry."
The teacher put a hand on the back of her neck and shook her head. "I just-" she began, exasperatedly, "I mean, what right- What are you trying, to, to- achieve?"
Salim looked up at her, and he stared sadly into her eyes. She shook her head slightly as he did this and raised her eyebrows, as if asking a question. Salim opened and closed his mouth several times as if to answer, but when nothing came out, his teacher shook her head once more and stood up.
"Wait!" he said, suddenly recovering his powers of speech.
"Good bye Mr. Umari," she said through tight lips. "Good luck with your English studies, and with finding a new teacher."
She turned and walked out of the door. Salim sat in shock, and then bolted up and rushed out into the hall behind her. The elevator doors had already opened and she was just stepping inside of them when he caught up with her, and ran in behind her. She turned around angrily as the doors closed behind him.
"Now what?" she said irritably.
"Please," Salim said, trying to stand at a respectful distance in the limited space of the elevator. "Please, you misunderstand me. I meant you no harm, I did not mean to violate your privacy."
"Then what did you mean?" the teacher challenged, placing one hand on her hip. Salim was momentarily distracted by its curve. Then he blinked and looked up, staring into his teacher's angry blue eyes again, searching them for a sign. That fierce sparkle, was it the hard sparkle of a diamond? Or was it the faceted sparkle of ice? Could the ice melt? Could he make the eyes melt?
As he stood staring, the ice did melt, and a trickle of water leaked out onto the teacher's cheek. "Oh I am so sorry!" Salim said, frantically producing a silk handkerchief from his pocket, "Please don't cry, please, I am so sorry!"
The teacher snatched the handkerchief and turned away, and at that moment, the lights flickered in the elevator and it came to a screeching, grinding halt. Salim stood uneasily with his hand on the brass rail in the compartment.
The teacher looked up to the ceiling, and then to Salim. She pushed the button for the 31st floor several times, and then the button for opening the door, and when at length, nothing happened, she threw the handkerchief back at him scornfully and said "Dammit Umari! Did you arrange this too?"
Salim shook his head innocently and pushed the emergency button. It gave off a wicked spark and a puff of smoke and he leapt back. The teacher also jumped. Salim reached into his pocket for his mobile phone, and remembered that it was still on the desk.
He closed his eyes and turned and rested his head against the cool wall of the elevator. The teacher was standing with her back to him, both hands on the brass railing. They stood in silence for a interminable amount of time, waiting, and finally, the teacher sighed, set down her purse, and sat down on the floor with her legs crossed beneath her skirt and her arms crossed on her stomach. Salim sat down also, and stared meekly at his fingernails.
He cleared this throat and spoke, quietly, because the stillness in the elevator made his voice seem very loud, saying, "I am not a bad man. I am not what you think I am."
The teacher was staring at the elevator door. She said, "So what."
"So you do not have to leave teaching me. I will not harm you."
The teacher raised an eyebrow and turned and glared at Salim "Harm me?"
Salim felt a hot rush of color to his neck and he lowered his gaze. After a while he glanced down at his watch. Ten minutes had passed in the elevator. Salim looked at the ceiling, then at the floor, at the elevator buttons, and then at the door, and when he turned his head slightly to steal a glance at his teacher, who looked like she was resting her head against the elevator wall with her eyes closed, she turned to him and gave him an accusing stare.
"I did not do this!" Salim pleaded, "Please believe me. I would never do anything like this."
"Like you would never do anything with my car?" she was still staring at him.
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