Chapter 4

The head of his department told Micah the university might cut back in courses where fewer students showed interest. It was about money. “Sorry professor,” a student said to him, “It’s about return on investment. Adaptability. Have to look at what’s going to help…get me a job. Money allows freedom….assuming there’s world still here tomorrow.”

Cynicism, adaptability and fluidity. Three weeks remained in the academic term. Micah knew the end of his job was near. He met with his students to review their work. “You’re not an empty vessel waiting to be filled. Please compare notes with each other. And you have each other’s email. Share. Cooperation not competition means you get the top grade.”

Micah wanted to tell his boss to fuck off. “People draw power from other’s insecurities,” Micah thought to himself. He had no need for it. He was merely trying to have power over himself. Another part of his brain thought of the woman he saw in the bookstore’s coffee shop. The woman was enchanting. “Who was she?” He photographed her with his eyes and uploaded image to his brain so as to recall her at any time of day or night. “Did she see me?” He teased his mind with the thought. Every other thought seemed to be of her. Perhaps that was what a spell was all about. He knew from history and psychology people can “spell” their own minds.

Micah met with Doctor Sheila to talk about his future, the dream, abstract tattoo and the woman in the bookstore.

“And what else?” She asked.

“I was told this morning by my department head not to take it personal. I still have finals, grades and the transition.”

“Of course it’s personal,” The doctor said, in a matter of fact tone.

Micah appreciated the sentiment. A moment of quiet.

In the midst of their reverie there was a commotion in the hallway. They glanced over at the open door. A woman chatted with a portly, balding, vociferous and self-important man wearing a suit that appeared too tight for his frame. Micah recognized the woman from the bookstore. She was the woman he took a photograph of in his mind.

“That’s Reine Sharifa,” Dr. Sheila observed in a reverential tone and explained the man she was with as one of the many vice-presidents at the university.

Sheila and Micah heard my words to the vice-president, “If you wish to get together to discuss business matters tomorrow let’s do it. I have a number of details we’ve got to work out. I’ll let you know where.”

“Okay. Sounds good.” The vice-president said. “I’m good to go.”

I nodded and glanced over into Sheila’s office. She was sitting with Micah. I’d planned to call her later to talk about him and find out more information. I caught him looking at my feet and legs.

Micah smiled. His eyes moved up my body until he reached mine. I couldn’t take my eyes off him. I’d heard he had a serious foot fetish. I was getting wet at the thought of him worshiping me. The entire silent exchange lasted several seconds.

“Huh.” I sighed. Micah was even more intriguing the closer I came physically near him. It was chemical. I wanted to touch him. Embrace him. I wanted to fuck him right there in Dr. Sheila’s office. Instead, I walked down the hall to a restroom, minimizing my contact with the vice-president. Tomorrow would be the last exchange with him. It’s a long story not worth telling. I was supposed to meet him tomorrow in a neutral place to discuss a business arrangement and was thinking of a museum or gallery. He kept his cell phone turned off, otherwise I would have texted him today. I’m glad I didn’t, as I would’ve missed seeing Micah again up close.

Sheila and Micah continued with their animated conversation. I was a special friend of hers. I appreciated the fact she was intending to formally introduce me to Micah. I assumed he was intrigued by my style. She had already relayed to me that Micah had fascinating interests. I wondered if one of the interests was somehow tied to his studies in Medieval life. His fetishes appeared rather apparent, according to the doctor. He was also the kind of man that noticed physical details - the design of earrings, hairstyles, esoteric tattoos, toeless high heels and pedicured feet.

An office door slammed. I heard the noise as I exited the restroom. I noticed the vice-president had departed. I decided to make a hurried return to Dr. Sheila’s office. I peeked inside. “Sorry to interrupt. May I call you later?” I asked her. I then looked over to Micah and smiled. He returned the smile

“Yes, please do. We’ve much to discuss.”

“Sounds good.” I said.

“Oh wait. Reine Sharifa, this is Micah Zunge.”

Micah stood up as I walked over to him. He was a head shorter than me. “My pleasure, Micah.” I was enamored with the man I saw up close. Second and third impressions either affirm or complicate first impressions. And an erotic impression is never static, neither is memory. It’s a fluid process especially when it’s fate.

“Mine also, Reine.” He said.

We shook hands. “We’ll meet again,” I said, as we held each other’s hands a second or two longer than normal.

“I hope so.” His eyes widened as we looked at each other. They suggested he wanted to know me better.

“Never let hope be without intent. We’ll meet.” I offered him a cordial smile and then disappeared out the door and down the hallway to another meeting. “Micah,” His name dripped off my lips as I walked away.

About two hours later I called Dr. Sheila. “Hi. This is Reine. Do you have time?”

“Ah, Micah left a while ago. As you noticed he’s short and you’re statuesque. At least a six-inch difference when you are in your bare feet and he’s in shoes. A perfect match for you.” She laughed, knowing it was a frivolous detail to Reine.

“Ha! You’re funny and perceptive.” I said. “Do me a favor. Play your professional role of clinical psychologist for me. What was his childhood like?”

“His childhood? Well, let’s see. He was an only child. His mother was comparatively attentive I suppose, given how little he saw of her. Both his parents worked. On the other hand, his mother apparently disappeared a week or two at a time. She was in contact with him by phone during the week. She worked as an executive for Ford Motor Company in Detroit as long as he could remember. Though she rarely talked about her job. And, his dad taught at a community college. Money, job security and survival were his parents’ motivation. His father was Jewish and worked in Jerusalem where he met his wife, a Roman Catholic, when she was visiting the old city. They were both secular and believed in serendipity. Neither of his parents were into athletics or sports.”

The doctor took a breather than started again. “He told me once that he remembered his dad saying, ‘sports were created to keep men and women out of sexual mischief while seducing them with it. Sports depended on sexual illusions.’ Otherwise, his dad couldn’t understand why anyone would spend his or her hard-earned cash as an example, hitting and chasing a miniature white ball around a green pasture to see if you can drive the ball in a mole whole. Entertainment has a price. And his father told him he preferred a good movie or book to read or listening to his wife’s stories about social affairs in the automotive industry.”

“Hm. He had to become independent fast.” I said.

“Yeah. And I told Micah my life was no exception and whatever happened he needed to be good to his heart as not too many people would be, except for the closest of an old friend or two. Sounds cynical. It reflects the era in which we live.”

“Hmm. I understand. Is there anything else…I should be aware of?”

“Well Reine, as a matter of fact there may be an intriguing issue.”

“What?”

“His days at Columbia are growing shorter. His classes are no longer being offered and the administration as you may know is cutting back in certain subject areas as not enough students are showing an interest. Money. What’s the return? I know he needed to email a final report to his department head, as part of his job-ending requirement. His students were busy finishing essays and journals and he told them he was available to them by computer, cell phone, and he could always meet them at a coffeehouse, bookstore or in his office. All his students pass. He doesn’t want to leave anyone behind. And he did say something odd to me the other day.”

“What was that?”

“He mentioned, ‘a sense of isolation crept over him,’ when he thought of his future. He had a complicated dream the other night where he was supposed to meet a couple of colleagues at an Italian restaurant in the Times Square theater district. He made a reservation and got there early. He waited so his colleagues wouldn’t have to wait. After being seated a well-dressed statuesque woman was seated alone at the next table to where he was sitting. After his colleagues arrived he excused himself, went to the restroom and upon return, he found he was in a different restaurant and his colleagues were gone, except the statuesque woman remained seated alone at a nearby table. He approached a waiter about his dilemma who stated there was no adjoining or nearby Italian restaurant. He then noticed the statuesque woman who was watching him, got up from her table, and walked to exit. He tried to follow her, but she seem to vanish like the woman in his dream. He then woke up in a sweat.”

“Intriguing.” I said, knowing more than I wished to divulge.

“Well he definitely has developed an existential philosophy. I suspect if you hadn’t entered the picture, he might consider joining a remote, exotic journalistic outpost where he could write cryptic dispatches back to some bureaucratic headquarters. His legacy would be filed away in some digital file folder.”

“Amusing. Given the political, social and economic climate we live in I understand his feeling alienated and the transient nature of things we think are real.”

“I very much agree with you Reine. And with that…good luck tomorrow.”