Torch Song

I knew when I interviewed him there would be trouble.

When he came to the office before his second interview to drop out of the running, I talked him out of it and hired him.

Though we were the same age, he had just graduated from a small Quaker college in the Midwest.

He began at a traditional university in New England, but he quit school after a year and worked for five.

Now here we were.

He was my intern.

I was his married boss.

By the end of his first week on the job, I was a wreck.

The sight of him, the smell of him, the sound of his voice… I was undone.

I struggled with myself.

I fought against his tide.

I tried to hide what I felt.

We were young, working at a nonprofit organization and broke.

We ate lunch together every day.

He had less money than I did, so I frequently paid for our lunch.

We talked about Yeats and Annie Dillard, about loss and grief, about everything.

One day he was sullen, quiet.

He had just received a rejection letter for a full-time position that he had badly wanted.

He was struggling to figure out what his career path was supposed to be.

Out of nowhere he looked up at me in anger and, with venom in his voice, said,

“You think I’m a slacker with no ambition.”

I sat there slack-jawed, blinking at him in disbelief.

I took a few deep breaths.

“How dare you presume to know what I think,” I finally said.

He looked at his food.

“That is not what I think. I think you are among the best and the brightest. I think you are a rising star, one to watch. I believe in you,” I said.

He looked up at me again.

“Those other words came out of your mouth. If that's what you think of yourself, don’t try to blame it on me.”

Now I looked away.

I felt like all the air had been sucked out of my body.

I wanted to scream, then to cry.

I wanted to take him by the collar and shake him.

“How could you think…?"

"I could never… "

"Have you not noticed the way I look at you, the way I stare at the shape of your hand, the curve of your lips?"

"Can you not feel the force that draws me towards you against my will, my better judgment... can’t you see I’ve lost control of myself, my heart?”

I didn’t say any of that to him.

I finished my lunch, with my heart pounding in the cage of my chest.

It would be awhile before I learned that he felt exactly the same way about me.