Fiction: The Lesson

By James Stark
arttimesjournal March 20, 2022

When Jared first appeared for his music lesson, the young college student didn’t notice the two names on the door of his teacher’s office; he missed that Ms. Bates shared space with another instructor, Mr. Wilson. On a shelf in the office a framed photo of a smiling woman and child gazed out over the room.

Soon the picture of the handsome woman sitting in a park with a pretty young girl became a distraction to the music student. At first he couldn’t identify the feelings that came to him. Was it surprise? Or shame? Or even revulsion that he felt when he thought of the two figures in the photo being the family of his music teacher. Each visit for a lesson caused him to blush from his neck all the way up and beyond his ample cheeks.

“Focus, Jared, focus,” his teacher admonished. “Oh, and remember your posture as you hold your instrument.”

How could someone like her be teaching here, he wondered. My parents chose this particular college because of their beliefs. Just as they had home schooled me and sent me to annual church camps.

At the end of several weeks’ sessions, Jared could restrain himself no longer as he blurted out his response to the teacher’s directions, “You know, biblically speaking, I don’t have to listen to you.”

“And why is that?” She asked calmly, sensing something more than religious indignation.

“Because you’re a woman,” he said. “And ah, you know, you’re a…” he stammered, his eyes turning to the framed picture of the woman and child.

As he put away his instrument to leave, she asked him, “Are you going to continue lessons with me?”

“I uh have to think about it. Real hard. I don’t know right now…” he stammered.

As he reached for his backpack the door opened and Mr. Wilson, his teacher’s office-mate swept in carrying his music books and stand. “You’re finished, aren’t you?” Wilson asked his colleague. “Yes, just.” She answered.

“I came for my picture; my wife has a new frame for it. Something a little fancier for me,” he said as he reached for the photo that had been Jared’s focus these many weeks.

“Is that, uh, your family?” Jared asked Mr. Wilson, Ms Bate’s office mate, looking from the male teacher to his music teacher and then to the photo.

“Jared, did you think that woman in the photo was my, uh…?” Asked his teacher.

“Oh, I, I don’t know. I, uh, guess I did.”

“You could have asked,” she said. And saved yourself all that torment.