Chapter Text
It was spring and the air was crisp. Jimmy was walking over to the Art room to ask Ms.Philips how her date with Galloway went. He did not have any good reasons, really. But he had a feeling, that if he wouldn't go, the whole situation would feel like an incomplete chapter. He was so close to going on a date, an actual, real adult date with her, and he was so ready for it. It still burned in his memory, how she walked out the door in that nice red dress and pearls and her hair done in a way that showed off her long neck - and then it turned out she never wanted to go on a date with him at all and that she was actually going out with Galloway, of all people. The whole situation stung a bit, it all just felt unfair. But Jimmy had to admit that the way it ended made sense. She never actually said she would go out with him, after all. He felt like it wasn't that ridiculous of an assumption, though. He still remembered how she leaned in so close and she grabbed his face and... that must have meant something, right? Did she really not understand what it looked like?
It seemed a bit bizarre to him, that a person like her, who, in the drab school environment, stood out as a sort of untouchable figure, as if she was a hung painting, immortal, distinct from the ones looking up at her, would go on a date with the painfully regular Galloway, who fit into the school atmosphere all too well.
But despite that, Jimmy still somewhat understood, that despite not finding the thought of them together too pleasant or even logical, he really was the best choice for her. He was one of the few people around Ms.Philips' age at the school, for starters. Even with his alcoholism, the rest of the male staff looked decrepit next to him. What also probably helped was the fact that he was just genuinely nice. Was he really so nice that she just had to go on a date with him, though? Was he really that charming? Sure, he was one of the few teachers that tried not to yell at anyone too much, but did that really make him worthy of her?
"I would be much more fun to date" Jimmy thought as he stomped up the hallway stairs. "He just doesn't have the guts. I would be nice to her and then I would blow her mind with a grand gesture and all that. I would be good at that for sure".
Finally, he was standing in front of the door to the Art room, making sure he looked good. He tried to look at his reflection in the metal door handle, but it was too distorted to be useful. He picked off some lint from his sweater and looked at his sneakers. They were relatively new, but he felt like they were getting worn out pretty quickly. Was it the tiles? Were his shoes getting damaged by the hard hallway tiles? Would Ms.Philips even care what his shoes looked like? For a second, Jimmy wondered - would she ever put as much thought as he did into appearing nice for him? Probably not.
He opened the door and walked into the Art room. The air was a bit warm, heavy with a smell of paint and wood. Natural light spread from the windows, softly falling onto the wooden furniture, giving it a warm undertone. The room was just enveloped in warmth, both in temperature and appearance. Jimmy instantly spotted Ms.Philips, examining a painting. She was leaning in so close, that her nose was almost touching the canvas and the yellow paint of it was reflecting on her cheek. He walked a bit closer, though he did not want to startle her. There seemed to be a lot of pressure behind her eyes and her gaze was intense, yet she still looked lost in thought. He lightly tapped the side of his foot on the leg of the easel (did she notice his sneakers?) and she turned to him. She seemed pleasantly surprised to see him standing there, which gave him a bit of confidence.
"Hi Miss, sorry to disturb you. I just wanted to ask," he realized she still looked quite nervous. Her blinking was just a bit faster than usual as she was trying to quickly muster up a pleasant expression. For a moment, Jimmy felt a bit guilty for even talking to her, but there was no way he could back out now. "well, I don't want to be too nosy, but how did your date with Galloway go?" Right after finishing his sentence, he got a feeling it was probably too personal of a topic to ask a teacher about. She stared at him for a second, and he felt like he messed up in some way. A silent response was probably not a good sign.
"Oh, it was simply a disaster!" she shouted suddenly. Jimmy could hear her jacket shifting around as she started gesturing rapidly. She gestured a lot when she was explaining something. "It started out so well. We drove in his car and had a lovely conversation. Then we arrived at the restaurant." Her gaze hardened a bit. "It was a bit less upscale than I expected, especially for a date, but I thought I could deal with that. If only that was the only problem!" She threw out her hands dramatically and one of her nails grazed Jimmy's cheek.
"We sat down and he immediately ordered a drink. And then he ordered another. And then another! He said it helped him with his nerves and that I was so beautiful that it made him all high strung. Which was charming and all, but by the middle of the date," she leaned in close to Jimmy for emphasis, "he was completely out of it!"
"Seriously?"
"Yes! I even had to drive him home in his own car! And that drunk fool just couldn't explain where his house was, so we just circled around town for half an hour. It was a nightmare!"
As Ms.Philips finished speaking, she was breathing heavily from the stress of even talking about that date. She had a sort of exaggerated expression of outrage, as if she was performing in a theater play. Jimmy was just glad she wasn't being quietly nervous anymore. This was much better. He felt a bit sorry for her of course, but in the back of his mind, he still thought she looked great when she was passionate like that, even if she was passionately explaining her terrible evening. Her cheeks were a bit red and her eyes seemed really "alive", in a way. She often looked like that when she was talking about something she thought was very interesting. During those moments, Jimmy always felt a bit guilty for not fully understanding what she was talking about. He really wished he was the type of guy that could converse with her about her favorite kinds of art (which, as far as he understood, were mostly along the lines of Impressionism and Modernism), but unfortunately, the simple truth was that he just did not get it.
In a strange way, he was satisfied that Galloway was not that great of a date. It felt like a sentence was crossed off the list of worries in the back of his mind. This was definitely not a conscious thought and if someone asked him, he could not have put it into words, but he was glad that the man she "chose" over him (even though, looking back, he was not considered to begin with) ended up being a bad pick. It made him feel a bit better about himself, despite the fact that this conclusion really didn't make much sense. Jimmy was sure, that if it was up to him, he would have been a much better date. He would compliment her dress, he would not get drunk, and he would be charming all the way through. He knew he was good with girls, he kissed almost every girl at Bullworth after all. If Ms.Philips just gave him a chance, he would be one of the best guys she has ever dated. No doubt about that.
"You know Jimmy, I'm glad you are the type of person I can talk to about this" she said fondly.
He was a bit taken aback by the compliment, but managed to quickly respond "Of course, Miss. Anytime."
Now looking absolutely calm, with a sort of dreaminess in her voice and warmth reflecting in her hair, once again unreal and beautifuly unreachable, she said:
"I really do wish more men were like you."
He felt like he was gonna faint.
"...Really?" he asked. His voice came out a bit more strained that he wanted it to. "In what ways?"
"Well, you see," she gave him a soft smile, "as I was driving Mr.Galloway home, I started thinking about how nice it was from you that you did all those errands for me. I'm sorry I didn't thank you enough before. I was in a bit of a hurry. Anyway, I thought about how mature helping me like that was of you. And I realized, that not many boys in this school, or men for that matter, would help me like that." Jimmy noticed she was rubbing the fabric of her sweater between her fingers. "And then I started thinking about you and your artwork. I know you do not consider yourself artistically inclined, but I really, genuinely believe you have an artistic spirit. I never tell you this in class because it would make the other students insecure, but..." she leaned in closer to him. Her smile showed a lot of teeth. "You are the most talented artist out of your peers, Jimmy. Believe me. I spend all day looking at mediocre beginner work, but your art is different. In a sea of background noise, it is one of the few highlights of my day. It has..." She looked off into the distance for a bit, trying to find the right word. "...Soul." She put very special emphasis on that last word.
Jimmy could feel her hot breath on his face.
"But that soul, that artistic spirit," she continued, "those are things that make you different from the others. And that means you often do not fit in. Society just does not understand artists like you and me. They are too caught up in their daily minutiae to actually notice and appreciate true talent. They just do not understand. And because they do not understand, they shun you, Jimmy. You see how they treat you, right? I saw it with my own eyes. I know that feeling all too well. They shun you, because they are afraid of you and of your endless potential. So you either lock yourself up in your room, or you try your best to communicate with them. But no matter how hard you try, they just cannot understand you. You are a different type of thinker. And because of that, all those small-minded people will never understand you, Jimmy." She looked at him warmly, yet with subtle pity.
Now they were staring into each others eyes, intensely, as the surrounding world slowly disappeared around them. In that moment, it felt like they were the only two people in the universe. There was a feeling, a connection, that would be hard to describe, even if either of them wanted to. What did it feel like? It felt like winning. Not yet crossing the finish line, but being so far ahead, that victory is guaranteed. After a while, Jimmy broke the silence.
"But you do understand me, right?"
She seemed delighted, that he asked. "But of course I understand you, Jimmy." She was now talking in an almost whispery voice. "And you understand me. That is why you are one of my favorite students. We are one and the same. Two artists in this vast world, that somehow found each other, despite all the odds. Let me tell you a secret, Jimmy." She cupped his face with her hands. They were warm. "The first time I saw you, you instantly stood out to me. All the other students were just children to me, but you just had this air of intelligence and maturity about you, that I never saw in anyone your age before. And as you started attending my classes, I got to see your beautiful, beautiful soul up close. And slowly but surely, I started falling for you."
Falling for you...
The words echoed in Jimmy's head, enveloping his brain like fine mist. Falling for you, for you, yourself. Slowly but surely, only you.
"And it seems like you are falling for me too, right, Jimmy?" she cut off his thoughts.
Time stopped. He wasn't breathing anymore. Was this a dream? Was this a joke? It was all going so well, so perfectly. All those things she said to him just made so much sense. It was like they were connected by destiny. Like she could read his thoughts and knew exactly what he wanted to hear from her for the longest time. And now, the moment was right here. The moment of truth.
"Y-Yeah," he said, voice shaking. "I think I love you, actually."
"And I love you too" she whispered. She pulled his face closer to hers as kissed him on the lips. It felt different than kissing girls his age, though he didn't exactly understand how. He could feel her long nails touching the sides if his scalp. Parts of her hair were resting on the crook of his neck. He could taste her strawberry chapstick. In that moment, she was all he could see and all that ever mattered. It all felt unreal, yet incredibly intense at the same time.
As he went back to his dorm through the Bullworth campus, he looked around at his classmates. They all seemed like unaware children to him now. He delighted in a feeling of secret enlightenment. Did they know? Did any of them have the slightest idea of what it was like to kiss a woman, an actual woman, instead of a regular, non-understanding girl? Did any of them see the world around them like he and she did? Could they ever understand? How could he possibly ever fit in with them again, knowing what he knew now? There was no way he would tell any of them what happened. It was a waste. They simply wouldn't understand. The only people in the world who could possibly understand, fully understand and comprehend and appreciate their special bond were him and her. Adam and Eve. Yin and Yang. Matter and antimatter.
He fell asleep quickly that night, recalling the sensations of that encounter over and over and over again.