Fear is what lets us breathe

Seth Remington watched from behind his desk as his students bent their heads over their semester exams, the final one before the start of Christmas break. Twenty more minutes and he’d take them up, all the young men and women would go home. So would he- but he wasn’t nearly as anxious to do so as his students.

Sure, Seth would be relieved to leave Hogan University for two weeks, to not have to stand in front of a large class of mostly bemused and uninterested students as he attempted to teach them calculus. He hated his job, hated having to wake up and stand in front of a room of 100 18-19 year olds, each staring at him expectantly, with nearly identical expressions of boredom, skepticism, and what he could swear to be smirking self-assurance on their faces. He hated the way they all looked at him, all were listening and expected to be listening to one person- him. He had yet to make it through an entire day without stumbling as he spoke, dropping tools used to teach, or completely losing his train of thought and having to begin again. With each blunder he would flush hotly, certain that his students were mocking him when he could not see, sure that they were thinking to themselves what an idiot he was, what a completely inept person assigned to teach them how in the world were they expected to learn from a guy too self-conscious to look them in the eyes?

It would be a fair question, Seth thought to himself disparagingly. There was no chance of him ever becoming one of those professors who’d worked on campus for years, earning the respect and admiration of students and colleagues alike, the confidences of students having problems. At 25 and his second year teaching, he knew already this was not to be his fate. He simply was not and would never be a very good teacher- it was not in his character to be.

His eyes came to rest on a student in the front row to the left of his desk, a young woman of about 19 years old. Small and thin, nearly to the point of boniness, with dark hair and eyes, Natasha Valletta was bent almost flat to her desk, her small head resting in the crook of her arm. He saw through her thin blue long-sleeved shirt how tightly her muscles of her back were contracted from her tension, observed the anxious concentration on her face as she determinedly wrote, clearly thinking hard. He found himself unable to look away from her to another student, to anything else inside the classroom or outside its window- Natasha Valletta captured all of his attention.

Even with only the slight movement of her hand as she wrote, he could see the evidence of her dance training from the delicate way she held the pencil, the straightness of her spine, even when bent over her work. The delicate slimness of her limbs and shoulders, sinewy, slim muscles, with few of the softer curves of most young women. Seth was fascinated with the frame of her body, its nearly flawless construction of perfectly spare flesh and bone- no more or less than what was necessary for her to perform.

He often watched her when her back was to him, embarrassed at his own daring but helpless to look away. Her every movement, however ordinary when performed by other girls, seemed extraordinary to Seth. Natasha moved with such lithe grace and fluidness that it seemed to Seth’s eyes that every action was a small part of one drawn-out dance, a dance telling the story of her life. Seth knew his thoughts of her, his student, were strange, and he was half-disgusted with himself for having them, but all the same they came to him whenever he had eyes on her.

She was lucky, Seth thought to himself, that at her age, she knew what she wanted to do with her life and was well on her way to accomplishing it. Although Natasha rarely spoke of it- rarely spoke at all, actually, at least from what he had observed- everyone who knew her, and even some who didn’t, knew she was a dancer. She was enrolled in the afternoon/evening classes at Martha Graham Conservatory, a school for young dancers that prepared them for careers in dance. The Martha Graham Conservatory was very prestigious and well-known by many not involved in dancing as well as those who were. Those enrolled in the school were nearly guaranteed successes in the dance world later. It couldn’t be easy to be accepted into such a school, Seth knew, despite his lack of knowledge of the dance world. He had always enjoyed dances, appreciated the aesthetic flexibility of the dancers’ bodies, but never had the opportunity to observe it or study it- his father would have put a stop to that when he was a teen, and now it was too engrained in him not to do so.

He could see how all the discipline required of Natasha in her classes transferred itself to other aspects of her life- she was a hardworking, dedicated student, maintaining an A in his class, and always completing all her work, regardless of the busy life she must lead. She also seemed to him a quiet, focused person, very much in control of her actions and emotions. She seemed very different from some of the other girls he taught, girls who often seemed utterly held captive by whatever dramatic emotions came over them. She seemed more mature, more wise, despite her young age.

Yes, she was lucky to be able to choose for herself- she was obviously dedicated to dancing- she must be, to make her life so busy she would take college courses and seriously pursue a career in dancing as well. Not to mention her figure- not only dance, but a meticulously planned diet as well would result in such a body. She must love dancing, he thought, and he felt his heart squeeze nearly painfully with his wistful envy of her fortune.

Seth had always been enthralled with all areas of the arts- dance, music, acting- somehow, although all were performed on stage, in front of people, it didn’t’ seem quite like teaching in front of others or giving speeches. The thought of artistic performances didn’t make him nervous at all- it would not be him they were watching, after all, but the character, the performing that his body gave. To some people that reasoning would sound crazy, but it made perfect sense to Seth. It was not only the performing arts that Seth enjoyed, however, but also the visual arts. He had experimented with drawing when younger and had fancied himself to be fairly good- a judgment he rarely passed on himself on an action performed.

However, despite his appreciation of art, Seth had never gotten a chance as a child to develop any talents he may have had . His father, a man whose sterness and definitive views had always suppressed Seth’s meeker nature, had thought of art as something unmanly, not befitting any son of his. The one time he had caught Seth sketching, he had been upset, telling him darkly that only men who were effeminate were interested in such things. His father was determined to raise his only son to live up to the Remington standards of masculinity, and he had done everything he could to make it happen- hunting trips, despite the fact that Seth hated killing, signing him up for sports he had no interest or talent in, never showing him anything more affectionate than a rough thump on the back or a handshake.

It had been because of his father that Seth had ended up a teacher, a career he had no desire to do and had no talent toward. It was expected for Seth to become a math professor, he had known all his life- the three previous generations of Remington men had done so. His father had taken great pride in the intelligence and education, balanced with masculinity and traditional strength, in the Remington men- as though the thought that by being teachers, a typically female profession, they beat gender roles while still completely maintaining their maleness. Apparently one could not be in the arts and do this, at least according to Seth’s father. Seth had learned long ago not to question his assertions.

It was because of this unstated expectation that Seth pursued a career as a calculus professor, despite his dislike of teaching and general unenthusiasm for math. He was naturally pretty gifted in math- the one Remington trait that HAD passed on to him- but he did not particularly enjoy it, certainly did not love it enough to want to teach it. However, Seth had developed by high school enough fear of his father to be wary of bucking family tradition. For this reason only was he now currently sitting in a teacher’s desk at Hogan University, watching his students take their winter exam.

It was also for this reason that Seth couldn’t completely be glad of the Christmas break that would begin in such a short time. During it he knew he would be paying an inevitable visit to his parents’ house- it was expected. He dreaded trips to his parents- it turned him completely back into the tongue-tied boy he had always been around his father. Not that that changed much when he wasn’t around his father- but being near him only worsened his feelings of inadequacy. He had always known that however hard he tried, he would always be a disappointment to his father as a son- his only son. He would never live up to his expectations for him. But still, he attempted to- and with each failure, his self-dislike only increased.

He found his eyes drifting back to Natasha’s thin form, tracing the angles of her face, her neck and shoulders and arms, with his eyes. So fragile, and yet so strong and durable. She was a skillful creation, Seth found himself thinking. Her body was like a well-crafted work of art…

Stop it, PROFESSOR, he rebuked himself sharply. She is your STUDENT, you can’t think about your STUDENT that way.

But she wasn’t too young, he thought, arguing with himself. It’s not like this was a high school class. She was at least 18, maybe 19- only six years younger than him.

Oh come on, who are you kidding? You think a girl like Natasha would ever want a guy like you? You can’t even teach her without making a fool of yourself. You can’t even look her in the eye, or anyone else either for that matter!

Soon the bell ending the day rang out, and the students got to their feet- some reluctant, not having yet finished, others glad for the escape. One boy one the papers piled onto Seth’s desk, some thrust at him hastily, others set down slowly, as if hoping he’d tell them they could finish. Seth didn’t look at any of them. The best he could force from himself was a stuttery, “ Merry Christmas, everyone. See you on J-January 5.”

When all the students, Natasha included, had streamed out, Seth simply slumped in his desk, sighing, relieved to have all of that over with for a few days. If only he didn’t have his parents to look forward to…

But then again, neither would he be happy staying home alone. Seth had no wife or girlfriend, no children- not because he would not want them, for he sometimes longed almost painfully for someone special in his life- but because he was too awkward and shy to seek such a person out. Spending the holidays alone would only depress him, give him further proof of what a loser he was.

He stayed in the classroom for around 30 minutes, straightening up, doing all the small preparatory things needed in leave of his long absence. At last he picked up his bag of teaching supplies, put his stack of papers inside, and flicked off the light, exiting his room.

He ambled down the hallway of the university, noticing distractedly the Christmas decorations on the walls and above the doorways. Garland and wreaths, ribbon and stockings, even a small Christmas tree in the entrance room, elaborately decorated with colored balls and lights. To be politically correct, there were also candlesticks for Kwanzaa and a menorah for Hanukah, as well as appropriate decorations for each. However, Christmas decorations clearly dominated the university.

Nodding with slightly reddened cheeks to a colleague who greeted him, Seth quickened his pace, not wanting to have to stop and talk with anyone. And you wonder why you’re alone, he thought to himself self-deprecatingly, but he did not slow his pace. Opening the door to Hogan University and stepping outside, he blinked in surprise at the sudden cold that quickly entered his unzipped coat. With fumbling fingers he zipped it as far as it would go- it was winter, after all, only four days before Christmas. How did he expect it to be outside?

Walking down the gravel pathway in the front of the university, he took in the multi-colored lights strung alone the trim of the building, along the tree trunks and gates in the front. All the scene lacked for a Christmas feel was snow- and it was certainly cold enough for that to remain a possibility.

Seth was about to turn toward the teachers’ parking lot when he noticed a small figure sitting on a bench alone in the university’s front lawn, underneath a tree whose trunk was decked in blue lights. Even from a slight distance he recognized the straight posture and dark , pulled-back hair as that of Natasha Valletta.

What was she doing sitting outside in the cold, he wondered. Why hadn’t she left already- he knew she did not live on campus. Did she own a car?

She must be waiting for a ride, he decided. Surely whoever was getting her would show up soon.

But he found himself hesitating, pausing rather than going on to his car. She looked so small and alone out there, and it was very cold… maybe he should go see if she was all right.

What do you mean, “see if she’s all right?!” Of course she’s all right! She’s just waiting for a ride. She’s an adult, she’ll be fine. And you’re her teacher, remember that- what are you trying to talk yourself into?

But that’s just it, I AM her teacher, Seth argued with himself. I shouldn’t leave her alone out here in the cold when just anyone could happen up to her and- I mean, she’s a young woman, and she’s very small- I wouldn’t want anything to happen to her-

Who are you kidding? Why are you trying to justify yourself- you know you want to talk to her! As if you could do such a thing without going as red as the lights on that tree over there, or stammering like a moron. She doesn’t want you to “see if she’s all right”- girls like Natasha Valletta, especially girls who are you students, who have witnessed your stupidity, aren’t interested in you. Trust me on that. And no one’s going to wander up to a college campus to kidnap her on a day like this. Even if they did, what would you be able to do to stop them? Beat them up!? Don’t make me laugh!

Just go to your car. Walk away, leave her alone.

But somehow Seth’s mind was not sending the correct messages to his feet… somehow he found himself drawing closer to Natasha on the bench, rather than to his car. His mind was racing in panic, shrieking at him to stop, what was he doing, but his feet kept moving, and then suddenly he was standing right behind her.

Too late, genius- if you walk away now she’ll see or hear you.

Right now it appeared that she hadn’t- she was sitting very straight, shoulders squared, her hands clinched firmly in her lap. Though it was cold, she was not shivering, was in fact very still, staring straight ahead. Seth could not see her face, so could not try to interpret her expression. He cleared his throat awkwardly.

Still Natasha did not move, did not seem to see or hear him. He shifted his weight awkwardly, his ears already burning.

“ Uh- Natasha?”

It was a brief touch, and a gentle one, but it was the fact that he had done it at all that stunned Seth. He did not touch women, especially young, beautiful women who were his students. He glanced at his hand, half-afraid, wondering if some stranger had taken control of his body, his mouth. And yet he found his eyes going to Natasha, waiting her response.

At first he thought he would receive none, for her body remained drawn into itself, her head lowered. But after several moments she sighed, shoulders sagging.

“ It’s just so hard. I mean, it’s constant, every day and every Sunday, at least 3 hours a day. I get maybe two weeks total where I’m not dancing, every year. And still, I’m not where I should be, I’m not good enough. I work as hard as I can every day, hours, and I’m still not good enough. My pirouettes aren’t fast enough, my leaps aren’t high enough, my legs aren’t straight enough, I’m not naturally flexible enough- it goes on and on. In dancing, you and every move you make has to be perfect, and I’m not. I’m just not, and I don’t think I ever will be.”

She fell silent for a few moments, seeming lost in a despairing reverie, but then she spoke again, her chin pointing into her lap.

“ I’m beginning to resent it when they- my instructors- point out what’s wrong with the way I’m dancing. They do it so loudly and harshly, in front of the other girls… they focus on whichever person shows the very most talent, and they basically tell the others we will never measure up to her, that we do not have what it takes to be a dancer. It can hurt to come in every day and push yourself just to hear someone sneer at you and tell you it’s all for nothing.” She breathed in slowly, her bony shoulders rising and falling in a way that made Seth catch his breath at their movement. Her face lowered further as she added in a near whisper, “ Even when I know they’re right I still don’t like it. I know they’re just doing their job, trying to make us strong and beautiful and flawless- but I don’t know. I hate when they make remarks about my body and what’s wrong with it, where I need to firm up or slim. It’s- it’s hard to stand in a room of all these thin, thin girls in your leotard and have a man announce to them all what’s wrong with your body.” What Seth could see of her face was pink, and she wouldn’t look at him.

Seth was utterly astonished. Was it possible that a man, a living, breathing human male, would dare to even think of Natasha’s body as less than stunning, let alone criticize it aloud- in front of her, in front of others?! Could anyone possibly see her as not thin enough, when her fragile bones could already be seen through pale flesh? Could someone possibly not see the beauty in her structure, her every movement?!

“He criticizes you?” he said, his voice almost loud in his disbelief. “ He says there’s something wrong with your body? He says you need to lose weight?”

Natasha nodded slightly, face flushed- he could see her small ears reddening at the tips. Her body was stiff, her dancer’s posture gone- and from the clinching of her jaw, she appeared to be fighting tears.

“ You don’t believe him, do you?’ Seth asked in disbelief.

Natasha shrugged, her shoulders hunching up and holding, then collapsing down wearily.

“ You can’t weigh more than 100, 105 pounds in dancing. There aren’t many tall dancers, and those who are taller feel the same pressure to weigh as little as the smaller girls. There are girls who weigh 60-70 pounds. Eighty-five pounds is probably the average weight, maybe as much as 90. I weigh 92 pounds- so…” she shrugged again, not meeting his eyes.

Seth shook his head in dismayed speechlessness. How could anyone look at a body like Natasha’s, already devoid of any tissue less than necessary to keep the body healthy and functioning, and think it necessary for more to be taken away? Why, she as a woman already lacked the extra flesh around her hips, stomach, and thighs that even slender women naturally tended to have. Even her breasts so were small and modest that in her clothing they could easily be unnoticed.

Seth flushed at his wandering thoughts, the way his eyes were scanning the length of her body. Stop thinking about the breasts of your STUDENT, he rebuked himself sharply. What has gotten INTO you today?

“ You shouldn’t,” he told her, and realized he was looking at her, really looking at her, trying to see her eyes- and very intently too. “ Your body is perfect. It’s not too thin yet, but neither is it in need of losing any weight. It’s beautiful- the way it moves, all its parts working together, beyond what a lot of people are capable of achieving with their bodies. It’s like art. I would love to watch you dance, to see the art of your body transfer to onstage.”

Suddenly realizing what he was saying, he stopped short, nearly biting his tongue, literally. Had he really spoken aloud?! Had he just told Natasha Valletta, his beautiful 19-year-old student, his strangest, most private thoughts about her body?! Had he really just told her, as the sat alone on a bench in front of the university, that her body was beautiful, perfect- that it was ART?!

What the hell was getting into him!? She would think he was a pervert, more completely strange than she had before his blundering attempts to- what? What had he even been trying to do by going to talk to he? Seth still did not know.

He was afraid to look over at her, afraid to see her reaction to his words. Would she be horrified, embarrassed, angry? She hadn’t looked at him the whole time they were speaking- she must be humiliated now.

Finally he got up the nerve to sneak a quick glance toward her. As he’d feared, her face was colored a pale reddish hue, and she was trembling slightly. But to his surprise, her face was lifted slightly now- and there was a faint, pleased smile on her lips. She wasn’t angry… she was pleased… she hadn’t been offended. Seth could hardly believe how insanely lucky he had been throughout this experience.

“ Thank you,” she said quietly, shooting him a fast, nervous glance. “ That’s really nice of you to say.”

“ I’m not just saying it- I mean it,” Seth pressed, encouraged by her response. “ You should be proud of your body and what it does for you.”

Natasha startled Seth by looking into his eyes and holding them, leaving him with an urge to look away. He fought it, managed to look into her dark, troubled eyes. How had he not seen the unhappiness in her eyes before? But then, how often had he really looked into them for more than a split second?

“ Look, I’m sorry I’ve been ranting at you like this. I shouldn’t be doing this. It’s childish and immature to expect you to listen to my silly, self-indulgent thoughts. It’s really not that bad, I’m exaggerating. I’m being ridiculous, and I want to apologize.”

The careful, guarded chill had returned to her voice, and she straightened her body to her dancer’s posture, scanning the driveway in vain for her parents’ car. Seth felt a slight shock at her sudden backtracking of tone. He had gone and pushed too far, scared her off- how ironic that he, Seth the Silent, as middle school peers had once called him, had made someone feel threatened by his boldness. Usually it was the other way around. It felt strange- and yet somehow it had been easier to talk to her, less scary, than he would have thought.

“ I don’t think you’re exaggerating,” he told her seriously. “ And I don’t think you’re being silly or selfish. I think you’re unhappy because you’re being pressured into a career you don’t really enjoy or want to do anymore. It makes sense. I can understand that.”

He paused, hesitating, debating if he should go on. What the hell, he’d already run at his mouth at her more than he would ever have dreamed of- he might as well say aloud what was becoming more and more obvious in his mind.

“ I really do understand, Natasha, because I was in the same situation you are. I made the wrong decision by allowing myself to be pressured into my career, and because of that I am still unhappy. You should not allow that same decision to be made for you, Natasha.”

Some of the wariness in her eyes remained even as she looked at him with curiosity and slight softening.

“ What do you mean? You didn’t’ want to teach?” she asked, then hastily added, “ You don’t’ have to tell me about it if you don’t want to. I was curious is all. I didn’t mean to be rude.”

“ No, it’s all right,” Seth told her, and to his surprise, he was telling the truth. “ I don’t mind telling you, especially if you might be helped by hearing it.” He cleared his throat a little nervously- once he had committed to telling, it was kind of hard to begin. “ I never talked about it before- I never felt I could. You’ve probably n-noticed I’m not a very outgoing person usually.’

Natasha nodded faintly, her eyes turned to him even as the rest of her turned away.

“ I- I’m the only child in my family. The only son.” He paused, flicked a look towards her. “ Are you the only daughter, or the only child?”

“ Both,” Natasha said softly. “ My mother always dreamed of having a daughter who would dance. She always wanted to and they never could afford it as a child. So when she had me-” she shrugged.

Seth nodded. “ I-I think that thing in common explains everything almost. About where we are today.” He took a long, slow breath, attempting to settle his nerves. “ It’s a family tradition. Sort of, for the oldest males to become professors in high-level math courses. My dad did, my dad’s father, his father- goes back four generations. As the oldest and only son, my father expected me to be the same. He expected a lot of me, needed me to be a typical masculine type of man, and I’m not.” He cleared his throat, shifted in his seat, itching to look at Natasha but not daring. Both of them had forgotten the cold long ago, the Christmas lights and decorations surrounding them, the fact that Christmas was coming, Natasha’s ride was late- they only saw each other, and only noticed the other’s words.

“ I-I’m pretty shy. I have a hard time with other people. And I don’t like sports, hunting, all that stuff most men do. My father was disappointed. He tried to make me learn to be what he thought I should, but it just didn’t’ come naturally to me. I couldn’t…”

He paused, sighing quietly as he hesitated, wondering if he should go on, if she was bored, if she thought he was ridiculous to do that. He snuck a glance her way- but to his surprise, she was turned fully toward him, her eyes on his face, intent on what he was telling her. She didn’t look away even when he caught her, just kept gazing at him seriously.

“ What I really liked was art. Any kind of art- performance or visual of all kinds. That’s partly why I admire your dancing. But mainly visual. I always loved to look at paintings and sculptures and statues, wanted to try my hand at creating them- but I knew my father disapproved. He would never allow me to become an artist and support it. There would be no peace between us. I’m not a person who likes confrontation, so I just systematically avoided it by going along with what he wanted. And now here I am.” He shrugged again, not without some wry humor. “ Teaching, a job which I don’t particularly like and am not very good at- that I am, in fact, afraid to do. Why? Because I let it happen. I even worked to obtain it.”

Natasha was silent for a long moment afterward, and for a while Seth regretted speaking. He had never said any of this aloud before- why had he? Did he sound stupid, whiny, immature? Like a sissy? He certainly felt that way…

“ Wow,” Natasha said finally, her voice soft. “ You DO understand.” Seth glanced over at her quickly, relieved to see the lack of criticism in her gaze- if anything, she looked softer, contemplative.

“ We’re quite the pair,” she murmured softly, shaking her head ruefully. “ so much for the spoiled-only-child syndrome. Where did all that go?”

“ We are not who we are,” Seth said slowly, speaking as the thought struck him.

Natasha looked at him in puzzlement. “ What do you mean?”

“ Did you ever read Othello in high school?”

Natasha shook her head.

“ Well, Iago, the villain, is manipulative and a liar, but he portrays himself as honest to get his way in things- but also to keep the peace. He says at the beginning of the play, “ I am not who I am”- and he isn’t. He behaves as another person, suppresses his true self, to fit into other people’s idea of him and what they think he is.” He hesitated. “ Kind of like us.”

Natasha was silent for a moment, lowering her eyes, clearly lost in a private inner place. But eventually she lifted her head, nodding slowly. “ You’re right… you’re right.”

Encouraged, Seth continued to share his thoughts as they crossed his mind.

“ Both of us worry about pleasing everyone, making all of them happy- but in the process, neither of us is happy.”

Natasha looked at him, her eyes sad, but bright. “ Yeah…”

“Natasha- when I came up to you earlier- you didn’t want me to talk to you, did you?” Seth asked suddenly, hesitantly. “ You didn’t want me to sit with you.”

Natasha hesitated as well, then shook her head, looking away from him.

“ Why did you let me then? Why did you say it was okay?”

“ Well, you were my teacher. You’re older than me, and- and a man- and I don’t know, I didn’t want to look rude,” she muttered, seeming embarrassed.

“ But Natasha- to be blunt, something I rarely do-” Seth paused, trying to find the right words, then deciding to just let loose- what the hell, he hadn’t offended her all night yet. “ First off, I’m not that much older than you. What are you, 19?” She nodded. “ I’m only 25. Not exactly your elder yet. And as for me being a man, and a professor- how does that give me a right to have my will over yours? It doesn’t. You should have told me you preferred to be left alone, made me leave. You didn’t have to be rude, just clear.”

Natasha nodded slowly. “ Yes- but I’m glad I didn’t. Then- then we wouldn’t have talked.” She blushed, but made herself look him in the eye. Seth felt himself flush too, but kept talking.

“ I want you to try and be honest with me from now on- with everyone, but especially me. If you aren’t happy with something or don’t agree, if you don’t like something or don’t want to tell me something, then tell me. I won’t get mad- I’ll respect your feelings.” Inwardly he was shaking his head in disbelief at his own forwardness, the fact that he had stuttered only a few times in the past half hour. Why had it taken meeting this girl for him to change? Or had it been that he could not change unless he found someone he needed to help change?

Natasha nodded slowly, her expression grave. “ Okay. Okay, I’ll try.”

“ Promise?” Seth persisted. She nodded more firmly. “ Good.”

The silence between them came back again, but it was not uncomfortable, rather, thoughtful, companionable.

“ What should we do?” Natasha asked finally. She glanced over at Seth, meeting his eyes. “ I mean, we’re not happy, we don’t like what we’re doing- what should we do?”

Seth thought for a while, sighing to himself. That was the trouble- he didn’t know any more than Natasha did.

You do know, a little voice in his head told him. You know- you just won’t do what you have to. You’re afraid…

But no other thoughts came to him, as hard as he tried to find another, easier solution. At last he was forced to admit there was none.

Turning his eyes back to Natasha’s, he exhaled heavily.

“ This is the only thing I can think of, Natasha, and the only thing that is fair to us. We have to stop- stop letting others decide our courses of action, stop letting others decide for us who we will be. We have to let them see who we are instead of being something we aren’t. We have to decide what it is that does make us happy and pursue it.” He looked at her searchingly. “ What does make you happy, Natasha? What did you always want to do but never seemed to be able to?”

Natasha thought for a while, her face seeming small and young to him in that moment.

“ Not to be a brownnoser, but I always liked math,” she said somewhat shyly. “ I was always good at it. Math and science.”

Seth smiled. “ You always had good grades in my class.” He shook his head. “ We should swap places.”

Natasha smiled as well. But soon her smile faded, and she looked at him solemnly.

“ You said we should go after what we want to do… but- are you saying we should quit? That I should stop dancing, that you should stop teaching?”

Hearing his thoughts spoken aloud, Seth wanted to flinch at their harshness, but he made himself keep still, look her in the eyes.

“ Yes. I guess- yes I do.”

He could almost watch the implications of what she had heard impacting her, saw her go still and panicked at the thought. Her eyes flickered over to his, and he could see her shock- her fear.

“ Quit? But they won’t understand- they’ll be so angry-”

“ You can’t worry about that, and neither can I. We have to do what is best for us- we can’t pretend for all of our lives. We’ll make them understand,” Seth told her, gaining belief and strength himself as he reassured her. He would never, ever have thought an hour earlier that he could even speak to Natasha, alone- and now he was thinking of quitting his job- planning on it…

Natasha’s mouth was open; she stared at him with unabashed horror. Her body was turned completely to his, rigid.

“ But Professor Remington- we can’t! I can’t! They’ll talk about me, they’ll be so disappointed! My parents, they’ve spent so much money, they’ll be so angry… and you, you’ll lose your job, what will you do?”

“ I’ll worry about that later,” Seth said, even as his stomach cramped in knots. Could he really do this- really throw away all the years he’d spent getting his degree, invoke the anger and shock of his colleagues, his parents, start over completely, just because he did not like his job? Was it really worth it?

But then he remembered his fear when standing in the classroom, the way he dreaded going to the university, the growing indifference he felt toward calculus… he thought of years of enduring that, and he knew what he had to do.

“ It will be hard, Natasha, but I know now I have to do it. You showed me that, showed me that I should be happy. Thank you,” he stammered, and felt his face go hot. Natasha was staring at him, clearly dismayed. He tried to pull himself together, to push aside his own rising doubts and focus on his mission, and his duty to convince Natasha of hers.

“ You have to do it too. If you ever want to be happy, if you ever want to respect yourself as a person, you will have to do this. You know that, don’t you?” His eyes probed hers.

Natasha held herself still, the emotion in her eyes heavy. Finally she sighed, her shoulders sagging.

“ I know,” she whispered, and she sounded close to tears. She blinked. “ But I’m afraid.”

“ I know,” Seth told her quietly. Then, without thinking, “ But fear is what lets us breathe, Natasha.”

She looked at him sharply, her eyes narrowing.

“ Where did you get that from?”

“ I-I’m not sure, exactly,” Seth admitted- he had wondered himself as soon as he had said it. “ But I know it’s true… if we live in safety, our fear so encompasses us we cannot really live at all. But if we feel our fear, acknowledge it, but move despite it- then that is really living. Only by the fear, the overcoming of it, can we really live.”

“ Why do we have to have the fear at all?” Natasha muttered.

“ Because it tells us we’re alive. There is no life without fear, for fear tells us we have a future. Fear of the future assures us we’re alive- but to have the future, we must learn to overcome the fear,” Seth said slowly, still thinking.

Natasha stared at him, many emotions naked in her usually guarded eyes. Finally she nodded, breathing out shakily.

“ You’re right…”

“ Will you do this, Natasha? Will you take action to pursue your own happiness?” Seth pushed, looking hard at her.

Natasha hesitated, then nodded, closing her eyes. She hugged herself.

“ Yes, I’ll try…” she whispered.

“ Do you promise me?”

This answer was a little longer in coming, but eventually she replied, “ Yes, I promise.”

Seth dug into his briefcase, drawing out a post-it note and a pen. He scribbled hastily and handed it to her.

“ I want you to call me and tell how it goes, and I’ll tell you as well. If you don’t call me in less than four days, I’ll call you- count on it.”

Natasha nodded, taking the note from him but not meeting his eyes. “ I’ll call you.”

Her eyes drifted to the left, and both realized suddenly that a small red car was slowly coming up the driveway. Natasha jumped up.

“ That’s my parents.” She began to pick up her things, then turned to face Seth.

“ Goodbye, Professor Remington. And… thank you.”

“ Seth,” Seth told her, as seriously as she had been speaking. “ My name is Seth- and soon, it will be appropriate for you to call me that.”

Natasha nodded slowly, beginning to smile.

“ Goodbye, Seth.”

And she began to walk away, her backpack only slightly affecting the gait of her movements. Seth watched her go, admiring somewhat nostalgically her swaying form, the way her neck stood out pale and white above her coat.

As she climbed into the car, he sighed slowly, the realization of what he had convinced himself to do hitting him fully. Could he really do this- did he really want to do this? Could possible content really come out of scandal and disappointing others?

You’ll never know if you don’t try… he told himself. And you do know that it won’t come the way you’ve been doing things…

He summoned up an image of Natasha in his mind… her small, slender shape, the fragileness that hung about her, her dark, foreboding eyes… if she could do it, a 19-year-old, 92-pound woman, he could. He could become at last a real man- not his father’s idea of one, but his own.

With his thoughts focused on Natasha, summoning strength from her, he turned, beginning his long walk back inside the university.