But right then everything seemed right as rain. I was holding my son and I was looking into the eyes of an amazingly beautiful woman.
Libby strode up to where Toby and I were standing. She’d been showing him something at her desk and the moment he saw me he’d bolted over to get his customary hug.
“Good, daddy,” Toby said.
“I hope I didn’t interrupt something important with Miss Norris,” I said.
Libby smiled and nodded. “No, I was just showing him some color mixtures.”
“Ah, that sounds interesting. You learning some advanced stuff outside of class, buddy?” I asked Toby.
He giggled and buried his face in my shoulder.
Libby was only a few feet from me and I could smell her sweet perfume gliding on the air. It was subtle, and not the least bit overdone. It was perfect. I couldn’t get the full impact until I took a deeper breath, but when I did there it was just dancing on my senses and whipping up erotic images in my mind.
I was so tempted to stare into her beautiful eyes, and possibly drop my gaze to her slightly exposed cleavage, but somehow I restrained myself. This woman was doing crazy things to my mind and I doubted she even had a clue.
I had to speak to her. I had to say something interesting, or at least beyond the typical parent/teacher conversation. Why couldn’t I open my mouth and just talk?
“He is a fast learner,” Libby said with a smile.
“Oh, I know that,” I said. “He loves art, so it doesn’t surprise me that he is into the colors.”
“That’s good. I developed an appreciation for art at an early age,” Libby said. “I still have it.”
“Oh, do you paint?” I asked.
Libby smiled. “I used to. I just don’t have the time anymore.”
“What did you used to paint? Landscapes? Portraits? Abstract?”
I was actually having a conversation with her, a mature, adult conversation. Wow, it was working…
“Um, a bit of all that actually, but I primarily was into sculpting.”
“Ah, I’ve never been much for that,” I said.
“Well, I used to think I wanted to be a sculptor, but then I realized I didn’t quite have the patience for it.”
“You have to have great patience to be such a wonderful teacher,” I said. “Don’t sell yourself short.”
Libby smiled and blushed slightly. “I think it’s easier to talk to a child than to spend several hours with a chisel to get a fraction of a nose carved out. Just doing that day after day, eventually I just didn’t think I could take it. I needed something more stimulating. I think that is the reason why I quit working at the pottery that summer in college.”
“Oh, you did the pottery thing? Tell me, is it really done with that wheel thing like in the movie Ghost?”
Did I really just ask her that? What in the hell was wrong with me?
I wanted to smack myself upside the head, but I just went with it.
Libby smiled. “Um, yeah actually. That is the precise term for it. You’ve done your research.”
I laughed. Was she flirting with me? Or just being friendly?
Why was I worrying so much and second guessing myself? I was going to get nervous and spaz out. I needed to relax.
“Well, I like to stay up on things,” I said. “What are your plans this weekend?”
Libby seemed a bit taken by surprise at the question. It was so random that I just threw it out there.
I had a feeling I was blowing this completely, but I’ve learned in life that when you think you are failing, you are usually doing way better than you realize. It’s best to just hang in there.
“Um, I’m not sure,” Libby said. “I’m probably just going to spend some time with a few friends, or I might drive up to Los Angeles and visit some family.”
“Ah, ok,” I said. “Well, I hope that goes well for you. I’d better get this guy home for his after school snack.”
“Yes!” Toby squealed with laughter.
Libby smiled and waved at him. “Bye, Toby.”
“Bye, Miss Norris,” I said.
“For the millionth time, call me Libby,” she said with a touch of annoyance in her voice.
I nodded and left the class room.
As I walked Toby home, I silently scolded myself. That conversation had gone about as tragically as a train derailment. I was all over the place and just keeping the talking going even though we didn’t have much to say to each other.
But she did give me something to look into, a way to find some common ground. She loved art, specifically sculpting. I made it a point to begin studying more about it. The next time we spoke I’d be able to ask her a few questions about artists and possibly suggest taking her to an art exhibit.
I was way overthinking all of it. What was wrong with me? This woman was perfect and she was driving me crazy. The more I thought about her the giddier I felt. Things were not going well between us, but at least I made some progress. That was my thinking at the time. I’d had an actual conversation with her. That was progress from my viewpoint.