Gesture

Melina raced from the front door and down the steps of the cottage toward William. "What are you doing," she screamed, shocking him to a complete standstill.

 

"You are a student William. I am a professor; A WOMAN professor. I could be fired,” she shouted giving him a forceful shove.

William felt irritation rise from his chest up to his throat. "I am not your student, Melina.  And I am a thirty year old man, not a child.” She hadn’t taken notice of the glow illuminating from the multicolored jars hanging from the autumn branches. Despite the light of the partial sun which had not yet set, the colors commanded attention; yet, in her selfishness and concern, she had missed it.

 

“Yes Melina, it is absolutely stunning isn’t it,” he spat, throwing a box of matches at her feet. He stepped between the lit jars, beginning to walk away. He contemplated tearing them down as he left; wished to tell her she was a fool.  He turned to look at her, to say something mean when he  saw her now torn expression; finally noticed the glow of light in the jars;  grasping the meaning in their gesture.

 

William understood her concern to a legitimate one; albeit not her student, he was still a student of the University. And while not much older than him, the University prohibited any relationship with students. The time they had spent together already would be grounds for a formal warning had she been a man. However, as a woman, she would be immediately relieved of her duties and dismissed, ruining her reputation and further chances for teaching.  He looked at her once last time. Her hair had begun to come out of its pin, her white button up shirt now disheveled during her race down the stairs and from shoving him. Still, she looked as beautiful as he had imagined she would; her silhouette lit by illuminating jars against the backdrop of the setting sun.

William looked directly at her, dropping his hands in frustration.

 

“I would do it again, Melina. If I had to walk all the way to London to gather every bit of used wax, to every market to beg for every empty jar, every tannery for scraps of leather to bind them to your tree and then walk back along the ocean to gather every pebble to fill these jars to see you as I do right now; I would do it again." He turned to go and as he left, raised his voice. "And you wouldn't be able to stop me the second time any more than you were the first..."