The Key to Everything

Eliza stood on the sidewalk outside the red brick apartment building, her arms crossed loosely, a practiced ease about her as she leaned against the facade. The afternoon sun cast a golden hue over the city, a thick and mellow light that caused a feeling of tranquility. It had been an unseasonably warm spring, a precursor for the season to come. A sense of expectation sat in her belly, but not because of the weather. Her eyes were trained on the entrance to the building, watching with a quiet intensity. There stood the focus of her attention, the reason she was waiting outside the building, the source of her feelings: Joey Granger.

They had ridden in her car mostly in silence. She had observed Joey enough times over the past year to know that he was shy, not overly forthcoming in expressing himself. This was a big change, driving with his teacher, redefining their relationship. Eliza thought it prudent to give him time to adjust. Not too much time, though. She'd also seen him, when given the opportunity, put off tasks, decisions, work as long as he could. He had an 'out of sight, out of mind' approach to his anxiety, not indolence, but avoidance. She'd seen the look of panic on his face too many times when she had reminded him of projects soon due that would take a substantial amount of time and effort, only to discover that he had not even begun the tasks.

And so she took him home. His home, she reminded herself. She still lived there, but if she was going to make this exercise work, it would have to be real. Joey needed to understand that his life had impact, meaning. She had considered all of the tasks that her job entailed: helping him succeed, building up and nurturing his confidence, and helping him become a man. Each had its own importance and nuance, yet shared a common thread. Joey needed to believe in himself, see that he mattered, that he was needed. In the real world there were too many variables to control, too many things that could go wrong. People could be cruel, Joey could suffer rejections, setbacks, all of which would be terrible at this point in his development, and in Eliza's job.

No, the only way to ensure success in her tasks was to take matters into her own hands. Eliza had to give of herself, become the experiment, and control the variables. Joey's impact would be Eliza. The more control she gave him over her own life, the more he would begin to understand who he was as a man. She would never have imagined doing something like that with a boyfriend, a husband, but this was her job. Joey required a lot of work in order to grow, and if she left that growth to chance she was sure he would fail, just as she'd seen him fail far too many times in her class.

The sound of metal on metal locked her eyes on Joey's movements. He had placed the key into the keyhole. The imagery was not lost on her. She had minored in English literature, and despite becoming a history teacher, she could still analyze and conduct close readings. She wondered how long it would take for that metaphor, that foreshadowing, to come to fruition. It was inevitable, she had realized since Joey had explained her job to her. Unavoidable. A melancholic feeling settled on Eliza as she again accepted her fate. She would execute her job well, as she had been taught, as her parents had modeled for her. But not every part of every job brought joy.

Still, as Joey opened the door and held it for her to enter the building, there was a brief moment of elation. She had already accomplished so much in so little time. Maybe she had been wrong about Joey all those months. Maybe he hadn't been a bad student. It was much more likely that Eliza herself was, with her mind so far off the goals that she should have been aiming for, a failure of a teacher. But, Joey’s progress that evening proved it was never too late for a course adjustment.

Through the lobby, up the elevator, and down the hallway. Very quickly they found themselves in front of Eliza's apartment door.

Joey's apartment door, she corrected herself.

Again the key, again the hole, again the door opened wide.

"Welcome home," she said with a smile, this time holding the door for him to enter.

"Thanks," her student mumbled as he walked into his new apartment.

Once he was inside, Eliza closed and locked the door behind her. Then she leaned against the door.

"Are you going to invite me inside?" she asked, a playfully.

"Uh, yeah," Joey answered, turning back to her, "Please come in."

She did. With slow, deliberate steps, Eliza sashayed up to Joey and took him by the arm.

"This was my apartment. As you can see," she pointed around at items that would have had meaning to her, pictures of her family, cards and gifts from students, "all of this used to belong to me. Now it’s yours to do with as you will."

"I... I mean, I don't really need..."

"Right now this isn't about what you need," Eliza cut him off, pouting, "but about what I need. You own every possession that used to be mine. I don't have a place to sleep, food to eat, or clothes to wear. What I need is permission. You, sweetie, have all the power. And unless you let me stay, I'm going to be out on the street tonight."

"No, I don't mean..." Joey shook his head as if clearing his thoughts, "You can stay here. I don't want you to be homeless."

"You would let me stay in your apartment?!" Eliza practically squealed, kissing Joey on the cheek, then speeding along excitedly, "I promise I won't make a mess! I'll be the perfect guest! I'll sleep on the couch and clean up after myself every morning.

"Don't be ridiculous," Joey said rolling his eyes, "Sleep on your bed."

"I don't have a bed here," Eliza put on her most confused voice. Joey really needed to understand his responsibility to her, that he had to take care of her, "Are you asking me to go buy a bed and put it in here?"

"No, fine. My bed. Go sleep on my bed."

"Joey Granger!" she put on a fake tone of shock, bringing her hand up to her chest for show, "You haven't even asked me on a date yet! And now you want me in your bed?!"

"You know what I mean," Joey said.

His face was flushed with embarrassment, but as Eliza stared at him, she saw something else in there as well. A hungry look in his eye that she had never seen before, as if he had taken, just for a moment, her joke seriously. As if it was what he truly wanted.

"Here," she took him by the hands, interlacing her fingers with his, and pulled him toward the bedroom, "Let me show you something."

The bedroom, like the rest of the apartment, was neat and tidy. It was still decorated with memories of Eliza's, childhood academic achievement ribbons she had won in school on one wall, an oil painting she had done in college on another. But everything had its place, and everything was ordered. For a moment she wondered if Joey would keep it that way or if he preferred a messier lifestyle. She had always valued how clean she kept her home, but if the exercise was going to work, Joey would have to have control. It would be a bitter pill to swallow, but you don't get better if you don't take your medicine.

"This was my bedroom," she said, leading him to the bed and sitting him down. She remained standing in front of him. "I'm going to need your help. Tomorrow, I'm going to wake up and will have to go to school, but I don't own any work clothes. Tonight, I'm going to want to go to sleep, but I don't own anything to wear to bed. And right now," she began to unbutton her pale blue blouse, "I want to put on something more casual, more relaxing, but..."

"You don't own anything like that?" Joey answered, his face beet red, eyes wide, staring.

"Exactly," Eliza said, dropping the blouse to the floor, standing in front of her student in her lacy bra, "Now, do you think you could help me slip into something more comfortable?"