Part Five:
The next day, Craig felt horrible about the way he'd treated Miss Roberts. So horrible that he looked her address up in the phone book. In the information that Mr. Radditch sent before the course had begun, it said that Miss Roberts first name was Carrie. Craig saw that a Roberts, Carrie lived in downtown Toronto.
Craig took the bus to the stop nearest 7th Ave, the street that Miss Roberts lived on. He found 1475: an apartment building that looked a little run-down. Well, how much could she make on a teacher's salary? he thought as he went into the front lobby.
A bored-looking, overweight woman was playing a game on her computer when Craig came over. She looked up expectantly, as if she didn't get to help people very much. "What can I do for you, darlin'?" she asked in a southern-American accent.
"Um, I need the number for Carrie Roberts apartment."
"Alright..." The woman typed something into her computer. "Apartment 408 on the 4th floor." The woman looked at Craig again. "Is Miss Roberts expecting you?"
"Um, no, it's sort of a surprise..." When Craig saw the woman's expression change from friendly to doubtful, he had a feeling that he may not be getting up to Apartment 408.
"It's okay, Ms. Brewster, he's not a stalker or anything." Craig turned to see Miss Roberts approaching the desk. The woman behind it, Ms. Brewster, looked a bit flustered.
"Well, you know, we have to be safe," she said, clearly embarressed. She quickly got back to her computer game.
Miss Roberts smiled at Craig. "Hey, you wanna come up?"
Craig shrugged. "Um, I just wanted to apologize. You know, for yesterday..."
Miss Roberts smiled again. "It's alright." She peeked around him to look through the glass doors leading outside. "Did your stepfather drive you here?"
"Um, no, I took the bus..."
"Well, you came all that way," Miss Roberts said. "Why don't you come up, for a drink, maybe? I've got Coke..."
Craig didn't want to make Miss Roberts any more upset at him, so he agreed. She led him into the elevator ("Hope this crappy old thing doesn't break down on us," she'd joked) up to the fourth floor. Her apartment, 408, wasn't far down the long hall. She opened it and went inside.
"Weren't you going to go somewhere?"
"Huh?" Miss Roberts was startled by his question as she led him into her small living room.
"Well, you came down while the lady was questioning me," Craig said. "So, were you about to go somewhere?"
"Um...no, I wasn't," Miss Roberts said, sitting down and gesturing for Craig to do the same. He sat on the worn-out couch. "I actually saw you come in. I was cleaning my window, you see, and I wanted to come down to make sure you weren't having any trouble with Ms. Brewster."
"How do you know I was coming to see you?" Craig teased.
Miss Roberts laughed. "Yeah, I'm sure that one of your good friends lives in a dump like this."
"It's not that bad."
"Yeah, right!"
Craig looked around. Though the building itself wasn't that impressive, Miss Roberts had decorated her small space the best she could. The walls of the living room were painted a light purple, and her second-hand furniture was covered with dark red cloth. The walls had famous framed pictures: one of James Dean and Marilyn Monroe in a diner, one with a sailor kissing his girlfriend in Times Square, NYC with a caption that read VALENTINE'S DAY, a colored photo of the San Fransisco skyline.
"I grew up there," Miss Roberts said, noticing that Craig was looking at that picture.
Craig turned to her. "Really?"
She nodded. "Yep. I'm not a Canadian citizen. Not yet, anyway. My sister and I moved here with our mother after, um, our father died."
"Oh." Craig suddenly felt very stupid. "I'm sorry."
Miss Roberts waved a careless hand. "It was a long time ago. I think you would've been about five then. But it happens, you know. Death is a part of life." Craig had a feeling that Miss Roberts wanted to say something eles. She's probably afraid that I'll go off on her, he realized.
"Listen, Miss Roberts-"
"You know, I'm not really into the whole "Miss Roberts" thing," she admitted. "I mean, I've never really taught before, you know? I think that I want my students to call me by my first name."
"Carrie?"
"Yeah. What do you think?" She looked at him expectantly.
Craig shrugged. "I don't know any teacher that's done that before. It's cool, I guess." He cleared his throat. "But, um...I'm really sorry."
"You already said that," she pointed out gentely. She stood up. "So, how about that drink? A Coke? Maybe with some rum, perhaps?" She looked serious, even though she was smiling. Craig couldn't help being surprised.
"Um, I'm fifteen."
Carrie rolled her eyes. "No duh. But come on, don't tell me you've never drank before."
"I have," Craig said carefully. Nothing too strong, just some beer with Sean and his older brother.
"Great! Two rum and Cokes it is, then!" Carrie went off to the kitchen to prepare the drinks. Craig, feeling akward sitting in his photography teacher's living room by himself, followed her. She was humming as she poured the clear rum and Coca-Cola into two tall glasses.
"Miss Roberts?"
She turned around. "Carrie, Craig. I want you to call me Carrie." Her green eyes were suddenly flashing as she handed him one of the glasses. "Well? What is it?"
"I, um, this is weird."
"What is?" She took a chug of her drink, and encouraged him to do the same. Craig did, trying to stop himself from making a face, before going on.
"It's just...I've never had a teacher offer me alcohol before. Are you sure this is okay?"
"As long as nobody finds out, it's perfectly fine." Carrrie grinned and led him back into the living room. He took his seat back on the couch, but she didn't sit back down. Instead, she stood next to the San Fransisco picture. "I actually took this picture."
"Seriously?" Craig took another drink (it was so bitter!) and gulped. "It's really good."
"It was just luck," she said humbly, taking a seat next to him. "I never really thought I was talented at photography. It's just a little hobby." She turned to him. "You, on the other hand, have a lot of talent."
"Oh, thanks." Craig was beginning to feel strange. But it was a good strange.
Miss Roberts...Carrie...put her hand on his leg. "I have to tell you, Craig, that you're one of the most talented amatuer photographers that I've ever come across. Your photos just have so much...emotion. Just raw emotion." She suddenly squeezed his leg, causing Craig to jump to his feet, sloshing a bit of the rum and Coke on his shirt.
"Um, I have to go."
"Craig." Miss Roberts calmly took his hand. "Don't be afraid."
"I have to get home, my little sister-"
"Craig." She pulled him back down onto the couch. "I want you."
Craig heard a whimpering from the back of the apartment. "Um, you need to let your dog out, I think..."
"He's okay in my bedroom." Miss Roberts reached for his face.
"Miss Roberts-"
"Carrie, Craig. Don't call me "Miss Roberts"."
"I have-"
His protest was blocked as she pressed her lips against his. Craig immediatly gave in, almost dropping his drink as he put his arms around her. He closed his eyes and savored the kiss...such a good, passionate kiss...
But the situation hit him, and he pulled away. "We can't."
"We can." She kissed him again, and this time he didn't pull away...
All that happened that time was an intense makeout session on the couch. Carrie gave him one last gentely kiss on the lips before letting Craig go. "Will you be back tomorrow?"
Craig considered it for a second. He had just cheated on his girlfriend with his PHOTOGRAPHY TEACHER. His older teacher. It was wrong...
But then he glanced at the enlarged photograph of San Fransisco. Carrie was talented, whether she wanted to admit it or not. She was mature, she didn't have a bunch of giggly friends running around. And she was sexy. He couldn't deny that.
Craig just nodded his head before rushing out of the apartment.
The next day, Craig felt horrible about the way he'd treated Miss Roberts. So horrible that he looked her address up in the phone book. In the information that Mr. Radditch sent before the course had begun, it said that Miss Roberts first name was Carrie. Craig saw that a Roberts, Carrie lived in downtown Toronto.
Craig took the bus to the stop nearest 7th Ave, the street that Miss Roberts lived on. He found 1475: an apartment building that looked a little run-down. Well, how much could she make on a teacher's salary? he thought as he went into the front lobby.
A bored-looking, overweight woman was playing a game on her computer when Craig came over. She looked up expectantly, as if she didn't get to help people very much. "What can I do for you, darlin'?" she asked in a southern-American accent.
"Um, I need the number for Carrie Roberts apartment."
"Alright..." The woman typed something into her computer. "Apartment 408 on the 4th floor." The woman looked at Craig again. "Is Miss Roberts expecting you?"
"Um, no, it's sort of a surprise..." When Craig saw the woman's expression change from friendly to doubtful, he had a feeling that he may not be getting up to Apartment 408.
"It's okay, Ms. Brewster, he's not a stalker or anything." Craig turned to see Miss Roberts approaching the desk. The woman behind it, Ms. Brewster, looked a bit flustered.
"Well, you know, we have to be safe," she said, clearly embarressed. She quickly got back to her computer game.
Miss Roberts smiled at Craig. "Hey, you wanna come up?"
Craig shrugged. "Um, I just wanted to apologize. You know, for yesterday..."
Miss Roberts smiled again. "It's alright." She peeked around him to look through the glass doors leading outside. "Did your stepfather drive you here?"
"Um, no, I took the bus..."
"Well, you came all that way," Miss Roberts said. "Why don't you come up, for a drink, maybe? I've got Coke..."
Craig didn't want to make Miss Roberts any more upset at him, so he agreed. She led him into the elevator ("Hope this crappy old thing doesn't break down on us," she'd joked) up to the fourth floor. Her apartment, 408, wasn't far down the long hall. She opened it and went inside.
"Weren't you going to go somewhere?"
"Huh?" Miss Roberts was startled by his question as she led him into her small living room.
"Well, you came down while the lady was questioning me," Craig said. "So, were you about to go somewhere?"
"Um...no, I wasn't," Miss Roberts said, sitting down and gesturing for Craig to do the same. He sat on the worn-out couch. "I actually saw you come in. I was cleaning my window, you see, and I wanted to come down to make sure you weren't having any trouble with Ms. Brewster."
"How do you know I was coming to see you?" Craig teased.
Miss Roberts laughed. "Yeah, I'm sure that one of your good friends lives in a dump like this."
"It's not that bad."
"Yeah, right!"
Craig looked around. Though the building itself wasn't that impressive, Miss Roberts had decorated her small space the best she could. The walls of the living room were painted a light purple, and her second-hand furniture was covered with dark red cloth. The walls had famous framed pictures: one of James Dean and Marilyn Monroe in a diner, one with a sailor kissing his girlfriend in Times Square, NYC with a caption that read VALENTINE'S DAY, a colored photo of the San Fransisco skyline.
"I grew up there," Miss Roberts said, noticing that Craig was looking at that picture.
Craig turned to her. "Really?"
She nodded. "Yep. I'm not a Canadian citizen. Not yet, anyway. My sister and I moved here with our mother after, um, our father died."
"Oh." Craig suddenly felt very stupid. "I'm sorry."
Miss Roberts waved a careless hand. "It was a long time ago. I think you would've been about five then. But it happens, you know. Death is a part of life." Craig had a feeling that Miss Roberts wanted to say something eles. She's probably afraid that I'll go off on her, he realized.
"Listen, Miss Roberts-"
"You know, I'm not really into the whole "Miss Roberts" thing," she admitted. "I mean, I've never really taught before, you know? I think that I want my students to call me by my first name."
"Carrie?"
"Yeah. What do you think?" She looked at him expectantly.
Craig shrugged. "I don't know any teacher that's done that before. It's cool, I guess." He cleared his throat. "But, um...I'm really sorry."
"You already said that," she pointed out gentely. She stood up. "So, how about that drink? A Coke? Maybe with some rum, perhaps?" She looked serious, even though she was smiling. Craig couldn't help being surprised.
"Um, I'm fifteen."
Carrie rolled her eyes. "No duh. But come on, don't tell me you've never drank before."
"I have," Craig said carefully. Nothing too strong, just some beer with Sean and his older brother.
"Great! Two rum and Cokes it is, then!" Carrie went off to the kitchen to prepare the drinks. Craig, feeling akward sitting in his photography teacher's living room by himself, followed her. She was humming as she poured the clear rum and Coca-Cola into two tall glasses.
"Miss Roberts?"
She turned around. "Carrie, Craig. I want you to call me Carrie." Her green eyes were suddenly flashing as she handed him one of the glasses. "Well? What is it?"
"I, um, this is weird."
"What is?" She took a chug of her drink, and encouraged him to do the same. Craig did, trying to stop himself from making a face, before going on.
"It's just...I've never had a teacher offer me alcohol before. Are you sure this is okay?"
"As long as nobody finds out, it's perfectly fine." Carrrie grinned and led him back into the living room. He took his seat back on the couch, but she didn't sit back down. Instead, she stood next to the San Fransisco picture. "I actually took this picture."
"Seriously?" Craig took another drink (it was so bitter!) and gulped. "It's really good."
"It was just luck," she said humbly, taking a seat next to him. "I never really thought I was talented at photography. It's just a little hobby." She turned to him. "You, on the other hand, have a lot of talent."
"Oh, thanks." Craig was beginning to feel strange. But it was a good strange.
Miss Roberts...Carrie...put her hand on his leg. "I have to tell you, Craig, that you're one of the most talented amatuer photographers that I've ever come across. Your photos just have so much...emotion. Just raw emotion." She suddenly squeezed his leg, causing Craig to jump to his feet, sloshing a bit of the rum and Coke on his shirt.
"Um, I have to go."
"Craig." Miss Roberts calmly took his hand. "Don't be afraid."
"I have to get home, my little sister-"
"Craig." She pulled him back down onto the couch. "I want you."
Craig heard a whimpering from the back of the apartment. "Um, you need to let your dog out, I think..."
"He's okay in my bedroom." Miss Roberts reached for his face.
"Miss Roberts-"
"Carrie, Craig. Don't call me "Miss Roberts"."
"I have-"
His protest was blocked as she pressed her lips against his. Craig immediatly gave in, almost dropping his drink as he put his arms around her. He closed his eyes and savored the kiss...such a good, passionate kiss...
But the situation hit him, and he pulled away. "We can't."
"We can." She kissed him again, and this time he didn't pull away...
All that happened that time was an intense makeout session on the couch. Carrie gave him one last gentely kiss on the lips before letting Craig go. "Will you be back tomorrow?"
Craig considered it for a second. He had just cheated on his girlfriend with his PHOTOGRAPHY TEACHER. His older teacher. It was wrong...
But then he glanced at the enlarged photograph of San Fransisco. Carrie was talented, whether she wanted to admit it or not. She was mature, she didn't have a bunch of giggly friends running around. And she was sexy. He couldn't deny that.
Craig just nodded his head before rushing out of the apartment.